THOSE hands. So tiny, so small, so harmless. They were God’s hands. Yes, we could look at God’s hands, touch them, feel them… tender, warm, gentle. They were not a clenched fist, determined to bring justice. They were hands open, willing to grab whomever would hold them. The message was this:
Whoever loves me will keep my word, and my Father will love him, and we will come to him and make our dwelling with him.
THOSE hands. So strong, firm, but gentle. They were God’s hands. Extended in healing, raising the dead, opening the eyes of the blind, caressing the little children, comforting the sick and sorrowful. They were hands open, willing to grab whomever would hold them. The message was this:
I would leave ninety-nine sheep to find one little lost one.
THOSE hands. So bruised, pierced, and bleeding. They were God’s hands. Nailed by the lost sheep He sought, He did not raise them in a fist of punishment, but once again let His hands become… harmless. The message was this:
I did not come into the world to condemn the world, but that the world might be saved through Me.
THOSE hands. Powerful, firm, but gentle. They are God’s hands—open to receive all those who have kept His Word, who have let themselves be found by Him, who have believed in Him so that they might be saved. These are the hands which will at once extend to all of humanity at the end of time… but only a few will find them. The message is this:
Many are called, but few are chosen.
Yes, the greatest sorrow in hell will be the realization that the hands of God were as loving as a baby, gentle as a lamb, and as forgiving as a Father.
Truly, we have nothing to fear in these hands, except, to never be held by them.