How Hands Change Hearts

Last week two friends came over. Both boys finally laid down in their beds, breathed deep, and slept. And we were able to finally look our friends in the eyes and tell them that we’re tired and overwhelmed, but also happy.

And they asked to pray for us. Then it was my turn to breathe deeply as I crouched at Trav’s feet and Mariana laid her hands on me, Cody on my husband.

And I can’t remember all the words, but I remember the calm and the peace. I remembered how much I miss this: laying on of hands, friends speaking to God for me, over me, on my behalf and for love of me, for love of Christ.

When we pray with our hands, it’s different, and it changes the molecules in the air, I think. It changes the atmosphere of my tired heart and clouded mind.

It’s how I feel when I’m deep in worship, sitting on the floor with brothers and sisters gathered beside, guitar in my hand. In those moments I actually feel far from everyone, like the Holy Spirit is stretching our circle bigger and bigger in order to be released, so that He fits Himself into our worship as His love grows.

So it is with prayer, so it is with our attempts to release and fit and fathom God– they are only attempts, but somehow they are all that we have.

And the funny thing is, He doesn’t fit anywhere, not in our fingers touching or in our gathered circles.

He encompasses all of it as He changes atmospheres and hearts.

Lindi told me the other night that she feels like our future is like pieces that will fit into others just right; that community will come to us well, that we won’t be square peg-round hole, but that we will mesh into a natural place with good people.

And she said it with her arm around me, and it released life into me as I held back tears.

May I see that God doesn’t fit, but that He surrounds;

May hands be laid on us and hearts be opened;

May our fruit fall as the mulberries,