His Hands - Oct. 18, 2009
HIS HANDS
Look at your hands, and think of the things they have done: Have they rocked a baby to sleep or tossed a toddler gleefully into the air? Have they had tickle fights or played catch with a child? Have they stroked a purring cat, or patted a grateful dog’s belly? Have they massaged someone’s aching muscles? Have they kneaded dough, rolled out cookies, or carved a turkey? Have they changed the oil, built shelves, or repaired a leaky faucet? Have they played a musical instrument, or written a poem or a letter of condolence?
Through the sensitivity of our hands, the world literally touches us, and we draw the world right into our immediate experience. Through the dexterity of our hands, we actually touch, shape, and recreate the world. Our hands express and give form to our thoughts, our visions, our artistry, and our love.
Think about Jesus’ hands. With them he sawed, chiseled and planed wood into benches and tables and yokes in Joseph’s workshop. With his hand he grasped the hand of a twelve-year-old girl who lay lifeless, and restored her to health. With his hand he touched the diseased skin of a pitiful leper, and healed him. With his hands he mixed his spittle with dirt from the ground, applied it to the eyes of a blind man, and gave him sight. With his hands he caught Peter when his faith faltered and he began sinking in the water on which Jesus was walking. With his hands he lifted little children, holding them up as examples of how to enter God’s kingdom. With his hands he broke and blessed five loaves of bread to feed 5,000 hungry people. With his hands he overturned the tables of moneychangers to cleanse God’s house of greed and corruption. With his hands he took a basin and towel and humbly washed the feet of his disciples, the task of a servant. With his hands he broke Passover bread, held a cup of wine, and gave them to his disciples to remember his body broken and blood shed for them. Then those hands, that did nothing but heal, support, reassure, cleanse, bless, and save, with the very power of God flowing through them, were nailed to a cross.
Shortly before Jesus’ death, just after he had predicted his passion for the third time, James and John asked for places of honor at his right and left hand when he would enter into his glory. The other ten disciples were outraged. Jesus must surely have been disappointed, perhaps even frustrated, that after all he had said and done, they still did not understand. Patiently, he tried once more to teach them. “Whoever wishes to become great among you must be your servant, and whoever wishes to be first among you must be slave of all. For the Son of Man came not to be served, but to serve.”
Greatness is not to be measured in how many people you control, how many assets you possess, how much status you have obtained. Greatness is measured by how much you reduce yourself to service. To be at Christ’s right or left hand in glory, you must first serve him here on earth by serving others as he did.
A Scottish clergyman named John Baillie related the true story of a girl living in conditions of extreme poverty. For years she cared for her brothers and sisters after their mother had died, and their father had squandered the family’s slender resources on drink. Dr. Baillie was by the young woman’s bedside when, worn out from hard work, she lay dying. She heard his words of gentle comfort, and said, yes, that she knew Jesus and that after she died, he would take her to the beautiful place he had taken her mother. “But,” she asked plaintively, “Will Jesus know me?” Dr. Baillie looked at her hands, bruised and worn in long service to her family, and said quietly, “My dear, just show him your hands.”
What kind of hands will we show Jesus? Not the clenched fist of selfish determination
or the grasping hands of greed. Rather, the open hands of kindness and caring, the warm hands of gracious welcome and true friendship, the tender hands of love and generosity. The hands calloused from work in great causes and service to others.
In former days the mansions of the rich and famous had a certain door with a sign that said “Servants’ Entrance.” We have such a sign above the doors leading into this church
to remind us that Christ calls us to his kind of greatness. And there is also a sign on the inside so that when we exit the church and enter the world we do so as servants in the service of others in the name and for the sake of Jesus Christ.
I read that when World War II ended, the members of a cathedral in Frankfurt, Germany began rebuilding their bombed sanctuary. Among the objects to be restored was a statue of Christ that had been badly broken. They pieced together the head, torso, legs, and arms, but the hands had been completely destroyed. After they considered engaging a sculptor to carve new hands out of similar stone, they decided to leave the statue as it was. Below this statue of Christ they added a plaque. On it were six words: “I have no hands but yours.”
Now, look once again at your hands. Your hands, like Jesus’ hands, were made in the image of God. They have the power to create, to heal, to hold, to bless, to give, and to love. They also have the power to grab, to steal, to push away, to strike, to hurt, and to kill.
Today, will your hands contribute to the redemption of the world or to the suffering of our Lord? Into his scarred hands Christ asks you to place yours