Those Nail Scarred hands

 on Wednesday, March 23, 2011 at 12:21am

Yeah I know I said I was shutting down for the night, but God calls and I listen.  Well okay I usually listen, try to listen.  Anyway tonight while taking a shower I was thinking on nail scarred hands, of nothing touching us without first being sifted through those hands.  Do you ever think about those scars. I know most of us know about the scars that they are right below the wrists, went all the way through. That the nails used were thick and heavy duty for the job.

Well I was thinking of the shape of the nail.  Not that I know much about it except by woodworking.  I do know that most nails at least the tips of them are like spikes.  sharp point going to a thicker head.  Well think of that nail as sin.  The widest, largest part is on the outside while the smaller part went through the hand and hit the wood.  But with a nail.  The outside part must always be bigger than the part that goes in, because if not the whole thing would come apart.  Sins like that.  A big mass hits God and he sifts it through his hands and delivers to us only that that will grow us up into who we should become.

The other thing it shows is no matter how many scars we have God will have more. He takes the brunt of it and we get the pinpoint.  I know sometimes the pinpoint feels like the moon fell on us. But if the moon fell on us than Jupiter fell on God. Nothing we have dealt with, nothing we have walked through, not one tiny piece can hit us with out the filtering of God.  We never ever walk through any of this alone.  God is always with us.

I feel such pain for those who are hurting and have think of God as separate from Jesus.  They can't get passed that God let this happened, yet they love Jesus because of His willingness to be scarred for us.  They don't think God as scarred, but God is love and love is all about the scarring, the taking up of a cross to carry it for someone.  God made us knowing exactly what we would turn into, knowing that Satan and He would be fighting for our souls. Okay actually I never really think of God as fighting.  I usually picture them more as a couple trying to get their pet to come to them.  Each standing on a different side of the room trying to see who the pet will go to.  And I don't mean that to be belittling to anyone.  It's just we all want the God "parent" but we want it the easiest way possible.  or maybe it's the most self reliant way.

There are only two paths in life. The path of Fear and the path of total and complete surrender.  One way leads to eternal salvation the other to infinite torment.  Describe as the beauty of jewels or fire and brimstone.  But I think that Heaven is simply always being with God and Hell as a complete absence from Him.  Most people might not see the sheer pain or joy of those two things.  But I can. Though life with my dad wasn't perfect like it will be with our Heavenly father, I do have way more fond memories of him than bad ones.  And every time I reach to grab the phone to call him about something and I realize I can't, it's like something stabbing me viciously in the heart.  I would think that would be a sampling of if "I had not God."  I am so thankful that I will spend eternity with Him.  The joy that makes my heart sing even now when I think of my dad's laughter.  Well you just can't beat it.  I only have to think of it to smile.

Do  you ever picture that moment when you enter Heaven?  Think about the first thing you would like to do?  The questions you would like to ask? stuff like that.  I do.  My mind creates pictures of those moments.  Like being a small child and sitting under the dinner table while the apostles talk and trying to be very quiet so I don't miss anything.  Holding a small white fluffy kitten in my arms as I sit cross legged, petting her and listening to her purr as the apostles sneak food under the table to the cat and I take it and feed her.  Yet no one knows I'm there or maybe it just doesn't bother them that I am.  And I sit there listening to every word, petting my kitten and humming softly to her hymns I know.

Or hiding behind a door or in a closet listening, (I have no idea why I hide in my dreams,  probably has to do with all the hiding I did to keep from getting in trouble when i was a small child) to others in the room.  Though as and adult I like to think they would just let me listen as i sit by them or stand beside them.  But then these were some of childhood dreams.

My most recent dream picture is: I walk through the gate of heaven and everyone is standing around talking, like a big party and they see me and part the way because my eyes are only for Jesus and the minute I see Him, I run like the wind straight to Him as He turns and smiles catching me mid air and swinging me around, hugging me tightly to Him, tears running down our faces and all He says,  all He needs to say is. "Home at last"

Then there is the one where I am sitting at His feet the memory quilt of my life on His lap and we trace our fingers over it, going over every event, every memory.  Each incident that made me, me.  And He would explain anything that I needed Him to.  Speaking in whispers, Laughing at the funny, crying at the sad.
And has He talks about things my fingers reach out and trace the scars on His nail scarred hands.