In Good Hands

Many years ago when my oldest girl, Bethany, was only about two, we played a very unique game.  She used to press her little forehead against the living room window waiting for daddy to walk up the stars on come in the front door of our home on Garfield Avenue in Scranton PA.  She would squeal when she saw me start the trek from my car to the house, she knew it was time for her favorite game.  Once I came in the door, she would meet me with her little arms straight up in the air.  "Daddy swing me!"

I loved this game as much as she did.  I would grab her little wrists and snatch her up off of the floor and into the air.  We would spin quickly around the room, sometimes she would be very high in the air, sometimes she would be circled very close to furniture and other obstacles.  The closer we came to smashing her into stuff, the more fun she would have.  Of course mom did not like this game as much as we did.  When I was so tired and dizzy that I could spin and swing her no longer, I would let her swing gently tumble onto the floor rolling to a stop.  As soon as Bethany would get her bearings, she would extend her arms into the air again, run toward me and squeal out those words, "Daddy swing me!"

I was pretty sure I had found a game that all children everywhere would love.  At that time, I served as an assistant pastor at Scranton Revival Baptist Church.  We had a fellowship hall in the bottom of the church that led to the parking lot.  Whenever church dismissed, most people would go through that large space on their way to their cars.  One Sunday night I decided to introduce another child in our church to this wonderful game.  Without warning, I snatched little 2 year old Eric by the wrists and launched him into the air.  The ride was exactly the same.  We went quickly into circles, swinging high, swinging low, coming dangerously close to poles and other obstacles.  When my eyes caught his, I saw that he had a much different expression than Bethany did.  He was not smiling.  He was terrified.  As soon as I let him gently tumble on the floor, he ran screaming and hid behind his mother's skirt.  For weeks he ran from me when I cam into the room.  What was different?  I was not going to hurt him any more that I would have hurt Bethany.  The difference is that he did not know who was swinging him the way Bethany did.  Bethany knew she was in good hands, therefore she could just enjoy the ride.


John 10:27–30 (AV)

²⁷ My sheep hear my voice, and I know them, and they follow me: ²⁸ And I give unto them eternal life; and they shall never perish, neither shall any man pluck them out of my hand. ²⁹ My Father, which gave them me, is greater than all; and no man is able to pluck them out of my Father’s hand. ³⁰ I and my Father are one.

God's word tells us that if we are Born Again believers, we are held in a very special grip.  Jesus Christ holds us in His hand.  No one can break that grip!  This hand created the universe.  No one is strong enough to break that grip.  This hand healed the sick.  This hand was laid on the heads of the little children when Our Savior prayed for them.  Now when we look at the hand that holds us, we know it is the hand of Jesus because it bears the scars of Calvary.  The hand that grips us is the hand of Jesus Christ.  The Bible tells us that we are held in the Father's hand.  When we come to Jesus by faith, we are adopted into His family and God becomes our Father.  We can call Him daddy.  We do not holding on to Him, he is holding on to us.

Now Daddy has a plan for us and is holding our hands.  He will swing us high, and swing us low.  He will bring us close to things that may scare us.  There two ways we can react to life's seemingly chaotic ride.  Like little Eric, we can be terrified with fear and uncertainty.  Or we can like Bethany look down by faith and see Daddy's hands are holding us.  We need not be afraid.  We can just relax, giggle and enjoy the ride.  We are in good hands.