Work of His Hands

While we're in the Creation story, let's stay there for a few extra minutes. Do you understand what a tender gift your creation is?

God has both the power and authority to speak things into existence. We have seen Him do this, for example, through His Son, who must only speak a healing word to make healing present in the people. We have seen Him bring water out of a rock by the mere touch of a stick. We have seen Him part seas with an invisible hand. God never had to lay a finger on this earth to make it just as it is.

Yet you are the work of His hands.

You could exist as the mere divine thought of God. You could be nothing more than a whisper into the empty spaces. But you're not. When God decided to make you, He put His hands in the dirt and began forming, making each one of your minute characteristics with His own hands. Working delicately on your intimate places. Carving the features of both your soul and your spirit. Judging for Himself the size of your dimples.

He got His hands dirty and like any good artist, He got lost in the work. He began with living water, to hold one piece of you to another, for you to start to take form. But as time went on and the sun rose, sweat started to tickle His hands. It started dripping down His face. Little cracks of blood started to show on His knuckles, drops of red from the little nicks any artist gets from His tools now or then. All of a sudden, you're more than mud and water; you're blood and sweat. God's blood and sweat.

And when He finally sees you just as He always imagined, a gentle tear falls down His cheek. A happy tear, for you are just what He wanted. A sad tear because He knows you will not stay this way. And that tear, too, mixes into your mold. Now, you are mud and water, blood and sweat, and both God's joy and sadness. You are almost complete.

He takes one step back to make sure you're just right, then leans forward with the breath of life itself and breathes into your lungs. His hand is there as your heart starts beating, and time is ticking. He has only the time until your heart stops to win you back from the world He's about to set you into. He has only so many beats to convince you of His love. He wonders...if it will be enough.

Then He stands. As He sets you free to live and to laugh and to love, to question and to wonder and to grow, He dusts off His hands and little remnants of you fall to the ground. All of a sudden, there are little pieces of you already in this world, little echoes of this beautiful creation story that connect you back to your Creator without your even being aware.

It's why you love sunsets. Or could watch the clouds for hours. It's why the butterfly calls out to you or the bird sings your song. It's why you walk outside in a thunderstorm and dance in the rain. It's why you pick a yellow tulip or a red geranium or an orange lily. Because there are little pieces of you-dust in this universe, and you're drawn to them. Inexplicably. 

Yet by perfect design.

It's always cool to see the power in the Word and the thought of God. The way He can turn the world on just a whisper. But you...you are more than a grand idea. You are the very handiwork of God.

You must be pretty special.