Holding God’s Hand

In preparation for my upcoming mission trip, I want to devote my Tuesday blogs to devotional thoughts. I’m praying for God’s continued presence in my life as He prepares my heart for the abundant blessings I know this trip will mean and for the life-changing time I will spend in the Philippines.

When we leave therapy each week, my kids love to go down the stairwell instead of the elevator because it echoes. Thank goodness it’s only from the second floor to the first because they would drive the ladies at the front desk crazy with their funny yells and screams. This last week my son wanted to do the stairs by himself. He grabbed hold of the railing and was doing pretty well until the last two steps before the landing. He looked down the gap between the railings at his sisters already waiting at the bottom and he lost his footing. He wasn’t really falling but he sure felt like it. He wobbled, grabbed onto the railing tighter, and instantly took my hand.

I smiled and immediately thought, “There’s safety in holding my hand.” He trusts me implicitly and he knows I would never let him fall. When he feels fear, simply holding my hand is enough to help him overcome and finish the rest of the stairs. What an honor and a joy it is to hold that much of his little respect in my one hand.

Isaiah 41:13 says, “For I the LORD thy God will hold thy right hand, saying unto thee, Fear not; I will help thee.” There is infinite, perfect safety in the Father’s hand. Yet so many times I want to “do it myself.” I think I am strong enough, smart enough, self-reliant enough to finish my day-to-day tasks all by my lonesome. I usually do pretty well for a while, until I hit a bump in the plan and wobble a bit. Then I reach out instinctively for my Father’s hand. And, just like I was already stretching out mine to help my son whether he wanted it or not, guess what? God’s hand is waiting for me. Constantly stretched out, just waiting for me to realize how much better off I am when I allow Him to help.

You would think by now I would have figured this out. You would think I’d learn not to let go in the first place. But I am so very, very thankful that God keeps giving me zillions of second chances and that He never pulls His hand away. Aren’t you? What has God helped you with lately?

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