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“He’s Got the Whole World in His Hands.”
My mom taught me that song when I was a toddler, and I taught it to my son. I’ve always enjoyed hearing a children’s choir or Sunday school class sing it, little voices expressing God’s pure, parental love for His creation.
It’s so simple — an easy melody, a catchy cadence and the percussion of a hand clap. It’s plain to see how it became a staple in nearly everyone’s repertoire.
I’ve been thinking about the song a lot lately and have a new appreciation for the sentiment. We are held, we are kept, and we are remembered. His hands are sure and steady. As the world continues to change and the dial on humanity’s moral behavior shifts more toward what is easy and convenient instead of what is right, the knowledge that His hands stay in place comforts me.
Knowing that God has the whole world in His hands allows me to square my shoulders and walk in confidence. His hands are an embrace of everything I am, flaws and all, and protection from the forces at work to make me believe otherwise. When I falter, and even when I completely fall, I still land in His hands. And He has never failed to pick me up.
Living in a world upheld by His hands means I can lay my weapons in His palms and allow Him to fight battles I’m not equipped to win. I can lay my family in the Word of the Healer. I can hand over my obstacles to the One who owns everything. It is the calm assurance that giving what I love most to Him is more empowering than holding it in my grip and bringing about a sure death.
To the world, it looks like giving up. It looks like disposal. But it is not. It’s trusting God to use His hands to make it whatever He wants it to be. It’s knowing that God loves us enough to give us His best. It’s believing God is pleased when we hand it over and finally realize it was never ours anyway. It was always His house, His car, His job, His money, His child, His spouse.
Parents use their hands in many ways to benefit their children. We use them to hug, to hold, to cook, to clean, to make a living, to correct, to point in the right direction. We use them to snatch our kids from danger in the nick of time and to prevent dangerous objects from harming them.
But when he was small, there was no better feeling than my son coming to me to fix something that was broken or pick up and dispose of something that could hurt him. I imagine God feels that way, too.
He’s a good, good Father, and I trust Him. I prove it by handing Him my life.
LaMonique Hamilton is a Wilson resident and former Times reporter and copy editor. She blogs about arts and culture at iamlamonique.com.