He wrapped his chubby little fingers around mine as he toddled along, savoring his unbalanced steps and relishing in his new found freedom. But, one bump in the sidewalk and his tiny grasp slipped from mine as he tumbled forward, tears to follow. I scooped up my sweet little boy, brushed him off, and set him on his feet. This time, I took his hand in my own – tucked safely, holding tightly, guarded in my grasp.
Isn’t that what Jesus wants from us – to hold us tight?
He holds out His mighty right hand and offers it to us – for strength, for stability, for support.
Yet we chart out on our self-designed paths, taking for granted our tether to Him. He’s there, we believe that. We trust and even ground ourselves in His word, but one misstep and our grasp slips. We slide from that heavenly hold and face plant straight into sin.
Yet Jesus still holds on – His strength is not fickle like our own. He picks us up, dusts us off, and showers us with grace. He reminds us that His hold is able to withstand our wandering grip. His grasp is eternal and He longs to hold our hand in His own and lead us, step by step.
He holds on. He holds up. He holds all things together – for us.
He loves us that much. He never lets go.
* This post is written for Five Minute Friday – a community of writers who accept a weekly free write challenge. One word, five minutes – this week’s word is: hold. For more information on this fun and freeing challenge, visit katemotaung.com. This post is dedicated to my little man – I would give anything to hold on to that chubby, little finger again. The now 11 year old boy flees my grasp much more than my mommy heart would like. Grow and run your race little man, but know I’ll always be holding on and so will Jesus.