My Father's Hand

There is something so exquisitely irresistible about watching a father and his child. Those tender moments are priceless. Seeing those young eyes staring up, full of adoration and wonder and meeting the gaze of their hero-protecter.... it just makes my heart melt.

What a picture that should be to us.

We can rest securely in the hand of our Father, knowing that "neither life, nor death, nor angels, nor principalities, nor things present, nor things to come," can separate us from Him.

In a real moment in history, on a real hill, and a real cross,
His Son bore the wrath stored up against our sin. He singularly endured the turning away of his own father's face, with whom he had had perfect communion up until that point, so that we would never have to.

In this is love.

Live in light of His sacrifice. We owe Him our devotion.

And really, how could you not be devoted to someone so majestic, who was willing to condescend to our level.

Ponder, and be prepared to get blown away.