Take My Hand

One autumn day, as I was walking with my family through the woods, my middle daughter reached out for my hand to take it in hers. She glanced toward me as I grasped her hand in mine, and in that moment our eyes locked. It was a look of trust, as she was relying on my strength to stabilise her walking along that path.

Wishing this moment could last a lifetime, I was concerned I might be squeezing her hand too tightly. I really miss the times of holding the hands of my children. Those moments were sweet to me as a father while they lasted.

But soon the need to hold a father’s hand passes. The threat of the moment is gone. Maybe the path widens enough so that children feel secure enough to let go and walk on their own for a while. Or maybe they see something that draws their attention away.

I loved those times of spontaneous hand holding which weren’t orchestrated by me as a command to “come here and hold my hand” on a hurried walk through a crowded street crossing.

God, in His grace, leans down and takes hold of the hand offered up to Him in times of need. It’s a comfort to hold the hand of the Father during a difficult time. It’s like a child being led through a scary street at night, or a crowded sidewalk where so many strangers are crowding into a small space. We feel comfort as we hold on to the strong capable hand of our Father. It’s as if strength flows through His hand right into our spirit.

How often do we struggle to work through some difficulty on our own? God is reaching out His hand toward us today. Will we take His hand in ours and let His strength flow into our spirit? When we’re afraid, He is there extending His hand towards us, telling us, “I am here. You don’t have to be afraid.”