31/08/2015

Good morning.

It’s strange, what we inherit from our parents – height, eye colour, a passion for classic cars or milky tea. Some say, hard as we try, in the end we all turn into our mothers. I find myself tuning into the same radio programmes, worrying about the weather, complaining about the price of petrol. I’ve even got her hands.

When I was a little girl I was fascinated by mum’s hands – the creases on her knuckles and palms, the softness of the pale freckly skin and – best of all – the grey-blue mounds of the raised veins on the backs of her hands.

And now perfect replicas are sitting on the ends of my arms. Whatever happens, I’ll always carry that piece of her with me – and, though they’re not supermodel hands, that’s really special to me.
Christians often talk about God as ‘our Father.’ They believe that every single human being holds within them a little of the DNA of God. And that life is about trying to grow into this inheritance – to be a bit more like Jesus, day by day.

For me, it’s all about the hands. Jesus said “my mother and brothers are those who hear the word of God and do it.”

I think this is what brings to life the God-blood running through our veins. Getting stuck-in to make this world a better place, seeing what needs doing and getting your hands dirty.

And maybe, if we take time to notice that trace of the divine in others, the shared inheritance that connects us all, maybe we won’t be so quick to judge or dismiss. Perhaps we’ll be surprised by our shared family resemblance.

Lord of hands and faces, hearts and desires, give us confidence our in our divine inheritance- and the courage to get our hands dirty. Amen.