Grace Model

Every day there is at least one thing that becomes a preoccupation that distracts me from right thinking and right doing. These pervasive thoughts may not always prevent me from serving my family and, most of the time, I don't waste energy or lose sleep over them either. Sometimes, I must wincingly admit, these attention grabbers chatter away in my head and are oh so difficult to pry myself away from so I end up doing something about it just to get on to the next thing. So, after long moments (hours?) staring at shabby nails and rough knuckles, I gave myself a manicure.

My hands, I like to believe, are instruments of service that God has given me to use for His honor. There is nothing exceptional about them, just to look at, but God has blessed my use of them in serving my family. My grip is strong and they are skilled for household duties and managing children. Just ask my kids! Even childhood foolishness (an axe incident, getting cut with broken glass) hasn't hindered my fingers' musical and artistic abilities. Still, they look and feel older than their 40 years of wear and tear should have caused. Wrinkles and creases, scars and callouses mar whatever beauty they may possess. And no amount of scrubbing, exfoliating, moisturizing, clipping, filing, buffing, or polishing can remove the layers of discipline, cleaning, holding, cradling, grasping, pushing, and clenching that have been laid on these hands. Models of physical beauty they will never be if they ever could have been. But, with God's mercy and strength, they can be models of love and kindness, humility and joy, and grace.

Dear Savior, I thank You for Your beautiful hands that healed and comforted the broken in body and spirit. Your hands touched the lives of so many who needed Your grace and forgiveness. By Your hands You performed astonishing miracles that would be told and retold for generations and centuries to come. Your strong and gentle fingers once wrote in the sand, a gesture that silenced the accusers of a sinful woman who could have just as easily been me. Your Word tells me that Your hands were bound and rendered physically powerless as You were led through the streets carrying Your cross that Your hands would soon be nailed fast to. Lord, my hands will never bear the marks of such a sacrifice as You have made but I sincerely pray that they display Your grace and love to those You have called me to serve. Let my hands be a model of Your tender care for the needs of those around me, that they would be used for Your honor alone, I pray.

Glory