Open Hands

I was contemplating Christ on the cross, today: in my mind’s eye I was watching Jesus die.  I was doing my best to absorb the experience, to see it as part of the unfolding narrative.  I distanced myself, as best as I could, from theologies as best as I could.

I turned my hands up, as I sometimes do.  There is something in this small act that feels like an act of openness.  It is a request, of God, to rain something down to me.

As I turned my palms outward, I saw Jesus’ hands, also turned out.  I had this sudden and striking realization…  Sometimes, when we open up are hands, we don’t get grace and love rained down on us.  Sometimes, they drive a nail through it.  And it seems like just maybe this is how it is meant to be: we are called to have the courage of accepting whatever it is that is happening.

 

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