Back again to blogging, yea! It's been several weeks and my dry days seem to be passing. I have been searching for meaningfulness to my work. I have had more questions and wonder often about any possible good I may do, and yet peace and contentment still allude me. However, I have come to realize that rest, "time outs," and solitary activities are measures that mend my weary heart . . .
It is only the beginning of a short, but focused ministry. The pressing crowds are drawn to Him magnetically, they mainly follow for their own concerns and healing. He speaks with compassion yet with authority in a way that they have never heard before. But it's mostly His acts that they seek, His amazing miracles. No one seems to notice that he often doesn't have a chance to eat without an intrusion. He catches up on sleep in the stern of a boat tossed about by afternoon gusts and gales of wind. He constantly is explaining himself, to his followers, to the religious leaders of the day, and even to his own family. Confined to human skin, He's exhausted, physically, emotionally, and spiritually. He seeks refuge in a lonely place to rest awhile and pray . . . He needs more hands . . .
They were novices at best, those 12 chosen disciples of Jesus, and yet that was all He had to work with. He needed to get the word out to a people who had not heard anything from God or His prophets for hundreds of years. The silence had to be broken that the Kingdom of God has come now. Limited to his own body, He needed to send these others out, and let their 12 pair of hands be the extension of God's healing grace and power. So He sent them out, two by two, instructing them and giving them authority over the unclean spirits, the evil of the day. He sent them out to do His good with their own hands. . .
Maybe my hands are His tool. Maybe there is His healing as I seek to offer comfort, care, and above all not cause harm. I think I forget that my one pair of hands holds healing, hope, and love to any person I reach out to. And right now, that may be all God has to work with, but empowered by Him, my hands will be enough . . .
It is only the beginning of a short, but focused ministry. The pressing crowds are drawn to Him magnetically, they mainly follow for their own concerns and healing. He speaks with compassion yet with authority in a way that they have never heard before. But it's mostly His acts that they seek, His amazing miracles. No one seems to notice that he often doesn't have a chance to eat without an intrusion. He catches up on sleep in the stern of a boat tossed about by afternoon gusts and gales of wind. He constantly is explaining himself, to his followers, to the religious leaders of the day, and even to his own family. Confined to human skin, He's exhausted, physically, emotionally, and spiritually. He seeks refuge in a lonely place to rest awhile and pray . . . He needs more hands . . .
They were novices at best, those 12 chosen disciples of Jesus, and yet that was all He had to work with. He needed to get the word out to a people who had not heard anything from God or His prophets for hundreds of years. The silence had to be broken that the Kingdom of God has come now. Limited to his own body, He needed to send these others out, and let their 12 pair of hands be the extension of God's healing grace and power. So He sent them out, two by two, instructing them and giving them authority over the unclean spirits, the evil of the day. He sent them out to do His good with their own hands. . .
Maybe my hands are His tool. Maybe there is His healing as I seek to offer comfort, care, and above all not cause harm. I think I forget that my one pair of hands holds healing, hope, and love to any person I reach out to. And right now, that may be all God has to work with, but empowered by Him, my hands will be enough . . .
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