From my father’s hands came love, honor and praise. A tender pat on my back, a toussle to my hair, a loving hug made me want to please him all the more. To me this meant security and safety. When he reached his large hand towards me, I didn’t fear or run from him; instead, I ran towards him with open abandon. I knew he would never harm me. I could trust him. His hands spoke protection and care. His hands provided for me everything that a young child could need. You see, he loved me, unconditionally.
My dad’s hands spoke volumes. “Knocked the bark off,” my dad casually said whenever he skinned his hands. I’ve been told that when I was born, my father held my head in the palm of his hand – my feet barely touching the crease in his elbow. Large and square, rough and strong, his hands smelled of oil and gasoline from the gas station he owned. Once a lumberjack and a lover of the outdoors, his hands sometimes gave off the woodsy scent of freshly whittled pine or the pungent odor of worms and fish as he prepared a fresh catch for Saturday supper. These were my father’s hands. His calloused, scarred hands gave witness to his labor of love and hard work done to provide for his family. My father appreciated honesty and integrity for a job well done. His hands showed it.
So it is with Father God’s hands. Creation shouts of the glorious handiwork of our Father God’s hands – His wonderful provision for you and me. It is everywhere if you just look. When you put your hand figuratively in His, He gives the strength you need, power to lean on, guidance you can depend on, and protection you can count on. You can absolutely know your Heavenly Father will watch carefully over you, for your name is written on the palm of His hand.
Father God is extending His hand towards you, beckoning you to come. Run to Him! Let Him welcome you. Let Him love you unconditionally. See what wondrous treasures lay in His hand for you. He will never harm you. His presence is ever near; His hands will provide everything you will ever need or hope for. He willingly stretched His hands open wide on the cross for you and me and bore the pain and the weight of our sins so we could someday spend eternity with Him. You see? My Father loves me…and He loves you. I can trust Him. How about you?
Happy Father’s Day to my great dad, Esten Woodland (Dec. 1897-Oct. 1972)