The Hand of God

Journal for Christa—

Did I see Your hand today

In the simple, natural ways,

Amidst a world of clamor and despair?

In the darkness of their woe,

Masses wonder toward the Foe,

Blinded by distractions and their fear.

Let me see the hand of God

In this murky, muddy, flood

To penetrate the noise and bleakness here.

Did I see it in your face?

Did I respond with words of grace?

Was it in the single rose

Cloaked in thorns, as this life goes?

Did I see Your hand today

In the simple, natural ways

Amidst a world of clamor and despair—

In his sermon a few weeks ago, Pastor Mark stated, “We miss God in the details, so we miss Him in the big things.” That struck me, prompting the poem. I wonder, as I rush through a day how often I miss the touch of God?

I think I did see it a few times this week: when 2-year-old Flora softly said, “Granny, Papa give me this?” and when 9-month-old Elliott (at the table unattended) smeared Callie’s birthday cake frosting totally over herself in ultimate culinary delight. I think I even sensed it vicariously through Kim as she wandered the misty, rainy streets of Heidelberg.

The hand of God—

It is everywhere.—not just in joy and solitude—It abides in every storm, every mundane task, every retching pain.
              But, I do not see it there.

Oh, how weak are mine eyes!

Let us open our eyes and see the hand of God—so close—so real—that we feel His very Breath upon our weary souls.