My Savior’s Hands

 

June 12, 2015

 

I searched the fertile Valley floor

Across the mountain range, and more

I searched the swamp and the desert sands

For one touch from my Savior’s hands

I traveled light, and seldom paused

So driven by a single cause

My purpose clear, my vision clean

I strained to realize the dream

To know my maker more than most

And draw so near, and press in close

I pushed through all the countermands

To touch the scars on both his hands

The quest consumed me, as I might

Take time in watches of the night

To dream of hands that broke the bread

And healed the sick, and raised the dead

Then break of day – again I’m going

Seeking Him, but not quite knowing

How a pilgrim might proceed

To where His Spirit meets the need

Of broken hearts in foreign lands

Who found revival in His hands

One time I had come close, I thought

A market place and I had bought

A bit of food to save for later…

Then I saw emaciated

Children begging for some bread

And I thought Jesus, in their stead

Would fill their bellies and their hearts

And I’d be there and play a part;

But Jesus didn’t show that day

And sadly, I went on my way

But not before I fed each one

And made sure something good was done

And strangely, I had just enough

I never did run out of stuff

to give. But t’would have been so grand

If they’d been fed by Jesus’ hands

Just then my world stopped revolving

The Holy Spirit problem-solving

And yes, my eyes could finally see

The truth placed right in front of me

I can’t believe I couldn’t see it

Jesus said, “Don’t search it – Be it!”

And I looked down and realized,

I’m looking at the hand of Christ!

The hands I’d searched for, far and wide

Were right here, one on either side

It’s such a strange theocracy

But Christ does live inside of me

And His, the only vote that counts

And so each day the pressure mounts

To walk in this extravagance

These are his fingers and his hands

They may not have the nail holes

But they have scars that hurt my soul

When I reached out in Jesus’ name

And bore the brunt of someone’s pain

And then I’d bleed a little while

And after that a tiny smile

Would creep across my countenance

A joy to suffer such offense

Indeed, He suffered so much more

And now I stand here at the door

My quest to find my Savior’s hands

Ended up where it began

The hands that open my front door

Must do just what His did before

Reaching, working, sometimes healing

Always loving, Christ revealing

His hands – how I used to chase them

Now I just don’t want to waste them

Maybe I should calm a storm

Or maybe I’ll just keep them warm

O they can heal with a touch

But maybe that’s a bit too much…?

No!  That’s what they have to be

His hands aren’t less attached to me

In fact His hands can now do more

They’re not just mine.  They’re also yours!

If this gets out, ‘bout what we’ve got

The church goes from lukewarm to hot

What will God do with all these hands?

Could this have always been his plan?

Now this is really quite stupendous

Who knows where our God might send us

Every nation will befriend us…

(okay, some try to offend us

But every time we’re hurt He’ll mend us

And we can trust God to defend us

So Holy Spirit recommend us

To each soul that needs salvation

For we will suffer every nation

To bring hope – the revelation

Of His loving subjugation

Winning our sanctification

Making us all one Holy Nation

And now my journey starts anew

O, what Jesus’ hands will do.

                  
Pastor Charlie Clark
Aurora Hills Church
Aurora, Colorado

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