Sometimes I clench them tightly,
bent on holding,
intent on keeping
things to myself that were never mine to possess.
Sometimes I clasp them together
deftly squeezing out any chance of
peace and calm infiltrating their locked doors.
Sometimes I play childhood games with them,
pretending they cradle people
with fleshly pews for sitting and
fingered steeple hovering over imaginary church.
When really, my hands are the Church,
an extension of Your body,
broken to cradle the sins of the earth
and spill out new life where death once reigned.
So why do my hands not shadow Your own?
Why are they slow to heal and comfort?
Why do they hesitate to reach out with love?
Why do they not scatter glory?
Why do these hands You created
so often remain clutched together,
trembling in fear of being seen?
Pry them free, Master,
and make them fit for more than
clutching and grasping
to fill themselves.
Release this heart to open hands,
and open these hands to release this heart.
This post was written in conjunction with Five Minute Friday’s word prompt of “hands.” You can join us here: http://www.lisajobaker.com/five-minute-friday