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Open hands

On Sunday at church as I was taking communion I was reminded of the practice my husband would go through pretty much every time he took communion. While waiting for the congregation to take the body together, he would hang on to a corner and let the rest soak up the juice. His point had been that the piece of bread you hold on to, CANNOT be washed over by the juice. That part we hold on isn't washed over by the blood.

The part we hold on to is ours. It represents so many things. It could be sin. It could be desires for things. It could be something we are trying to control. Whatever it is, God can't reach it and Jesus can't fix it because we are holding it in a way that it is OURS and He can't get in.

On Sunday it hit me in a new way as I was waiting for communion. God doesn't most of me, ignoring that one part. God wants all of me. So my hand was open, wide open, with the bread and I just prayed, "God, take it. Take all of me." I don't want to hold anything back anymore.

This doesn't mean I don't need help. Our sermon was about Moses and the battle of the Amalekites. (quick summary...the Amalekites attacked and for an entire day, the Israelites were winning when Moses had his arms raised, with the staff the Lord had given him. He got tired, obviously, so Aaron and Hur helped him hold his arms up and the Israelites won the battle.)

In no way am I Moses, but I am learning, in a new way every day, 1) How much I need to do what God is asking/telling rather than others and 2) how dependent I am on my arm-holder-uppers. I've got a bunch of them. Who lift me up when I can't seem to carry my burdens, or who add their encouragement to my own on the good days. Because even on the good days I get tired.

Fast forward a day. Yesterday I did a final walk through of our house with my kiddo. He knows I write and this is what he wanted documented: He will miss the forest views of the trees, his sandbox (which he says he didn't play with enough), his jungle gym closet, and the laundry chute. Among others I'm sure. :)

As we were both a little teary, my mind was racing down a sad track and it hit me. This is me trying to hold on to that corner of the bread. This is me refusing to let Jesus comfort. This is me refusing to look upon hope for the future. This is me not trusting. Again.

So I opened my hand, with my imaginary piece of bread on and prayed silently, "Take it. Take it all."

And He did. He really did :)  I let go and He took it!

Friends, what do you need to give Him today? He's waiting for you to open it up...

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