Each Sunday morning, my eyes scan the courtyard for Mr. Dave.

I find him holding the hand of his bride, Betsy, more than 50 years by his side. These days, Dave holds her hand for more than affection. She is his safety, his connection to the reality that Alzheimer’s disease is slowly stealing away.

I move toward them, my mission well-established. Every Sunday morning, I give Mr. Dave a good back scratch. The moment he feels my hand on his back, he smiles and melts into my touch, his far-away stare pulled back to the present for just a moment. I exchange knowing glances with Ms. Betsy, flirt a bit with Mr. Dave, and head on into the sanctuary to hand God my heart of worship.

A minute or two at most, that tender interaction touches a place in my heart nothing else can reach. It’s a way for me to love on my own daddy a thousand miles away in a nursing home bed. It allows me to help Ms. Betsy take care of her sweetheart, just a little. It gives me the opportunity to be the hands of Christ.

Jesus was a hands-on Savior. His touch made the leper clean, the blind see, and fear and fever flee.

Have you ever wondered what it would feel like to literally feel the touch of those hands?

So sweet it is to be His hands. To stroke the hair of a widowed friend who hasn’t been touched in so long. To rub lotion on my husband’s calloused hands. To dry the teardrop from my sister’s smooth cheek. To nestle up next to a hurting friend for a good listen. To wrap a student in my arms as she weeps over a lost pet.

Every day, if we quiet our cluttered minds and still our hurried steps, He will show us exactly who needs His tender touch. And He’ll see to it that we get our turn when only the touch of His hand will do. Look at your hands. Who was the last person He touched through you? Who will be next?

“Jesus had compassion on them and touched their eyes. Immediately they received their sight and followed him.” Matthew 20:34

Here are my hands, Lord Jesus, they are Yours.

LeeBird, PrayerGifts 

Leave a Comment