Come Here and Hold My Hand

The father stood outside the massive electronic store holding his baby in his arms. I probably wouldn’t have noticed as I hurried in to get a new computer printer, but the words he spoke to his little boy who stood a little ways away caught my attention. “Come here and hold my hand,” he told his little boy as he held his baby. He had his hands full, and he wanted to keep his older child from running into the street.

“Why?” I heard the little boy retort as I got ready to enter the store.

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“Because I asked you to,” the father told his child.

How many times has our Father in heaven called out to His children to come to Him and to take His hand to keep us from running into the street? How many times have His children retorted defiantly, “Why?” And how many times has God lovingly, and patiently, but sternly replied, “Because I asked you to.”

God has His hands full holding His Creation in His hands, doesn’t He? And it seems He is ceaselessly beckoning His children to come hold His hand to keep us from getting into the trouble we humans get into. And in our sin, we rebelliously respond, “Why?”

Before I started my search for a computer printer, I hurried to a store clerk and asked for a pen and paper so I could write down the interaction I had just heard and witnessed between the father and son. I knew I would write about it. Why? Because I was so convicted of how often we do what that little boy did. If he had only realized, and appreciated, and respected, the love of his father. If he had only quickly obeyed and thanked his father for his love and protection rather than question him. If he had only recognized his father’s love!

In all honesty, I have responded to God the exact same way countless times. Sadly, and wrongly, I have resisted Him, questioned Him, disobeyed Him, rebelled against Him, turned away from Him, run from Him, debated with Him, argued with Him, gotten angry with Him, cursed and yelled and screamed and whined and moaned and complained and with utter self pity shook my fists at Him and threatened to give up. Oh, if I had only realized the infinite love of my Father. If I had only shown Him honor and respect and reverence instead of a wicked heart full of self. But alas, I have repented – over and again. And He has forgiven me, over and again.

And the more I come to know my Father, the more I learn of Him and spend time with Him, I realize that I should not ask why. I should do nothing other than tell Him thank you. And instead of waving His hand away, that outstretched hand that beckons me into His loving embrace, I should do this. I should reach out my own hand, and my own heart, and take the mercy He offers me. The forgiveness. The endless love. The awesome grace. The amazing peace. The hope.

Thank you Father. For your hand. For your heart. For your love and protection. For your patience when I go back to my old ways. For your chastening and conviction. For your mercy. For being the best Father in the universe. Most of all, Father, thank you for being you.

Yes, Lord, I will come to you. And I shall take your hand. And rest in your forever embrace. 

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