open arms

I lean not on my own understanding,

My life is in the hands of the Maker of heaven.

Tonight, as these words were reverberated in the souls of college students as we sang to our Lord,  the image of the toddlers in the For His Glory orphanage came to my mind.

The four hours I spent with these beautiful little beings and the way that they would approach me over and over again.

With arms wide open, ready to be held.

A gesture that needs no language, no cultural understanding. I know exactly what they want.

To be wrapped up in strong arms for a long, long time. To know that they are safe and that they are loved. They were made to be held.

So am I.

Made to be held by the hands of the maker of heaven.

I give it all to you, Lord

Trusting that you’ll make something beautiful out of me.

And as I stood in that dimly lit sanctuary tonight, and remembered the little ones who had a faith and an awareness of their needs, their vulnerability, I took after the wise little orphans, made just for their Fathers hands, and lifted my arms as well, as a way to say…

Will you pick me Lord? Will you hold me Father? My life is in your hands. Making me more like your Haitian children, that I may seek You alone, and rest in your arms. That I may glorify you by enjoying the love you lavish upon me, and seeking more of the love you are so eager to give me. To know that you are making something beautiful out of me, and out of every person who opens their arms to you.