Read Isaiah 49:5-15.
When I take a look at my hands
I see the this past year reflected
The lines of weariness
The scars from cuts and bruises
The death, brokenness and grief
The uncertainty, fear, and loneliness
All of these things that made me want to make fists
And raise them to the sky
When I take a look at my hands
My heart begins to break
When I take a look at my hands
I begin to wonder how long
How long will I carry so much
How long will our systems be broken
Will the burden be heavy
Will each day be uncertain
When I take a look at my hands
I’m filled with doubt
When I take a look at my hands
And really let my eyes settle on the connections
The bones, ligaments and muscles
The stories, fingers, and memories
That live within these palms
I begin to see more than what my newsfeed
Makes me digest
When I take a look at my hands
Hope begins to surface
When I take a look at my hands
And see how they have lived
How they have kneaded bread
Dug in the earth
Written letters
Held protest signs
I see how they have made fists and spirit fingers
How they have not stopped reaching for tomorrow
When I take a look at my hands
I see this isn’t the end of the story
When I take a look at my hands
I see I am not forgotten
That I do not walk this way alone
I see a life that was formed, skin that is known
A body that is loved
I still have my questions, my scars, my doubt
Yet they balance with strength, fire, and hope
When I look at my hands
My hands made by my maker
I see a new day dawning.
Pray
Holy One, we pray you remind us of who you created us to be, and how we are called into this world. Wake us up so that we might find you in new and surprising ways.
Rev. Rachel Penmore
Campus Minister
Words for Waiting 