Holding His Love in my Hands

I have said to the LORD, “You are my God; listen, O LORD, to my supplication.”  Psalm 140:6

The quiet prayers.  The not-quite-even-articulated-into-precise-words prayers.  The prayers that haunt our life edgewise, that shoot out when we are not quite paying attention. Restless nightmares twist and turn into cries for mercy.  O LORD, hear these prayers.  

These are the prayers of a desperate soul.  To the God of the Universe.  Yes I believe.  Lord help my unbelief.  

I get the big universe picture.  I am reading Francis Collin’s The Language of God.  About the God who “is unlimited by time and space.  And the God who takes personal interest in human beings.”  An “interest in human beings” is not quite as immediate as what I long for.  Even yesterday’s “faithfulness from one generation to another” is not the same as “And straightway the father of the child cried out, and said with tears, Lord, I believe; help thou mine unbelief.”  And it’s not Thomas.  Thomas who said to them, "Unless I see the nail marks in his hands and put my finger where the nails were, and put my hand into his side, I will not believe it."

And so today, LORD God, I supplicate.  I supplicate for my children.  For my parents.  For the cares that I am casting.  I want to put my fingers where the nails were.  I want to feel Your love and power in my hands today.

Then He said to Thomas, "Put your finger here; see my hands. Reach out your hand and put it into my side. Stop doubting and believe." Thomas said to him, "My Lord and my God!"