contrary to what we’ve been told
the world needs to be polluted
infiltrated without filter
shadows long to be overrun
and darkness overcome
light of love’s pureness
a calling to arms
of arms outstretched
with mercy overflowing
a turning from judgment
of grace poured out on calvary
we are called to shed light
not cast more shadows
onto an already blackened earth
freely we have received
yet tightfisted we live
intent on holding what is not ours alone
loosen the hands
release the rivers of forgiveness
and bathe this world with holy
a holy that loves with
sweet melodies of grace and
overtures of righteousness not our own
let spirit rise
to pollute the shadows and
overtake the stifling blackness
from heavenly arms outstretched
through earthly hands wide open
caressing this world with love light
(photo credit to Fran Smith)
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
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
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
That mar the halls of eternity
That proclaim humility
From the One and Only who is worthy of all worship.
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
With open hands.