Hands

Hands

Baja (1 of 2)

      It’s a typical Tuesday in Huntsville, where I get to drink water from the faucet, flush toilet paper, have cheese dip with my mexican cuisine, and drink DIET coke (not this impostor “coke lite.”)  Despite small comforts, I find myself thinking about Baja. I think about little laughs, little smiles, little shoes, and little hands. Little hands that throw a ball, little hands that hold onto monkey bars, little hands that hold younger siblings, little hands that so desperately need to be washed, and little hands that are brown in the bigger white hands of strangers from America. Today I think of little hands. 

It’s true, I only spent a few days with this children. It’s also true that we speak different languages, and could only understand about ten percent of what the other was saying. But connections aren’t constrained by time or lack of words. There are connections that transcend all barriers, where mutual love bridges the gap all too easily. I cannot pin point a pivotal moment this happened. It wasn’t found in a miraculous event, or an extensive conversation; but between the exchange of smiles, the big bear hugs, the countless pictures, the turning of a jump rope, the pushing of a swing; it was here, somewhere between it all, that connections were made. 

I think of Anita, who doesn’t stop smiling, the precious sisters, Cece and Donna who love posing for pictures, crazy Arturo with his “meep meep” sounds, and adorable Yohanna who I could hold for hours. I think about how clear these faces are in my mind. I think about how I will think of them so often and with such love. I think of how much more God thinks of those sweet faces. I know how much I love them, but God’s love trumps my love a million times over. I know how much I will think of them, but I know God has always been thinking of them, and never ceases! As I’m reminded in Isaiah 49:16, “See, I have engraved you on the palms of my hands.” How precious are His children to Him who are engraved on His hands! 

What I love about mission trips is the opportunity to co-labor with God (as I talked about in my Africa posts.) It is no secret that God resides in San Quintin and loves His people there, dearly. We weren't there to bring God to the people. God is already with the people. We were simply His hands personified. We had the opportunity to be a physical extension of His overt love. What an invitation we have, not only on mission trips, but every day! I tell you this not as a sermon, but simply sharing what He reminded me of, yet again. 

There is one image that seemed to sum up the week for me. One morning we were handing out snacks to the kids as well as small cups of water. After all the kids got snacks and water we took cups of water to the patients waiting to be seen at the clinic. Seeing the condition of some of the patients, it wasn’t hard to see how grateful some of them were for a few sips of water. What an opportunity, to deliver water to thirsty people! Obviously this is far more than just a physical act. Being Jesus’ hands in quenching spiritual thirst may be one of the greatest opportunities we have. As Jesus told the woman at the well in John 4, “Everyone who drinks this water will be thirsty again, but whoever drinks the water I give them will never thirst. Indeed, the water I give them will become in them a spring of water welling up to eternal life.”

Yes, delivering water that will forever satisfy the thirst of someone and become “a spring of water welling up to eternal life,” is amazing! But what I have been thinking about is the giving of the water. Not that the giver should be glorified, it is not the giver’s water in the first place. The giver should be absolutely humbled. That the God of the universe, the saver of souls, the healer of the broken, the restorer of the world, would GRACIOUSLY ALLOW the giver’s hands to be involved. What an honor! How undeserving am I. These imperfect hands I call my own; these all too often idle hands; the hands that both honor Him and deny Him in all too short of time frames; these are the hands He allows to deliver water. Not because my hands are perfect, it has absolutely nothing to do with my hands, but because His hands are perfect. And it is from His hands that eternal water flows.

I love how David Crowder explains this in the song, “Surely We Can Change”. He sings, “And I don't know what to do with a love like that. And I don’t know how to be a love like that. When all the love in the world Is right here among us and hatred too, so we must choose what our hands will do. Where there is pain, let there be grace. Where there is suffering, bring serenity. For those afraid, help them be brave. Where there is misery, Bring expectancy. And surely we can change something.”

So today I think of hands. Little hands with lots of love to give, loving hands with names forever engraved in the palms, patient hands that graciously partners with unclean hands, and able hands; hands that can do so much, if we so choose. “When all the love in the world Is right here among us and hatred too and so we must choose what our hands will do..”