Hands

It's still a mystery to me
That the hands of God could be so small,
How tiny fingers reaching in the night
Were the very hands that measured the sky

Chorus
Hallelujah, hallelujah
Heaven's love reaching down to save the world
Hallelujah, hallelujah
Son of God, Servant King,
You're here with us
You're here with us

Verse 2
It's still a mystery to me, oh,
How His infant eyes have seen the dawn of time
How His ears have heard an angel's symphony,
But still Mary had to rock her Savior to sleep

These are some words that struck a chord with me today. I heard the song for the first time today on the radio. I had to hold myself in not to cry too much before heading off to do some grocery shopping. The song was performed by Joy Williams.

I had an image of Reuben's small hands flash through my mind. Then I thought of those hands being pierced with big ugly nails, my baby's own hands, beautiful hands. I wanted to cry. Jesus was once a baby. I believe it and yet the image was made more clear to me today. Mary rocked her baby to sleep. Then I think, well, Mary was special. But no, she was blessed. Now these verses come to mind....Matthew 25:37-40 "Then those 'sheep' are going to say, 'Master, what are you talking about? When did we ever see you hungry and feed you, thirsty and give you a drink? And when did we ever see you sick or in prison and come to you?' Then the King will say, 'I'm telling the solemn truth: Whenever you did one of these things to someone overlooked or ignored, that was me—you did it to me.' I love the story of Jesus coming to earth, but sometimes we have a tendency to forget this story is very real today as well, that He is living. He became flesh. Human. A baby. "That was me- you did that to me." It's not good will to people because it's Christmas and it's a good thing to do. It's loving Jesus, humans, flesh. Hands and feet. Ugly scars. Outcast. Those beautiful babies that grow and experience pain. They are Jesus. I hold my own children, but they aren't really mine. They are easy to love at times. Harder other times. There are more babies born in mangers. They are Jesus. More outcasts ignored. We are Mary and Joseph loving the baby in the manger.