Open Hands

In a world of clenched fists
And tightly held possessions,
Open hands are hard to come by.
Who can live with hands wide open?
Hands that expose,
Revealing raw emotion
And truth that is telling.
So uncommon in a world that trains toward
Survival of the fittest and
Self-preservation
At any cost.

How can one live with open hands?
Why risk the misunderstanding?
No, it is safer to live with hands clenched tightly shut,
Concealed where no one can cause hurt.
Where none can crush so fragile a love
Offered without restraint.

Yet from whence will healing come
If not from open hands?
Who will soothe the cries of the masses?
Cradle the young,
Nurture misguided generations,
Steady patriarchs and matriarchs as they totter toward the edge of eternity,
If not the one who rises with hands wide open
To join with the One who extends love freely,
Who presses grace against the seeping wounds of mankind.

He who created and hung the galaxies in place
Opens hands wide,
Stands accused before His own creation,
Embraces the cross so we can be embraced
With everlasting life.
These Open Hands breed
Scars
That mar the halls of eternity
Forever.
Scars
That proclaim humility
From the One and Only who is worthy of all worship.
Scars
That defy death itself
And fling the doors of heaven wide.

Who will stand alongside this Savior
And allow the blood of Calvary’s hill to
Pry open clenched fists and infuse them
With a grace that melts the most hardened of hearts?
Who can live with hands wide open
To shower the nations with undeserved love
At such costly price?
Only the one who joins open hands with Open Hands,
Who risks the pain
And the scars.
Who dares to share the truth
So that truth can be told
And believed
And received
With open hands.

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