One thing I’ve noticed in all my years of mothering sons is that Lego men are always ready for action. They have these molded plastic hands that are always open and empty until a child snaps something into them. That thing may be a sword, light saber, hammer, steering wheel, rope, but whatever it is, it is put there by the Lego man’s owner. Until then, he just stands alert waiting for instruction. I appreciate that, for I can only imagine the havoc a rogue, self-important Lego man could cause in a household.
Early on in my walks, I had my hands full. I was juggling concerns and issues, always running them through my head, churning over what actions to take. I told the Lord all the things I was thinking about and on the very first day of my walks, He spoke in my spirit. Your hands are empty until I put something in them.
So I began opening my hands. I made them empty over and over again. My fingers wanted to squeeze into tight fists, to carry my burdens around the park like suitcases. My hands didn’t ever want to let those burdens go, so I forcefully opened them wide and then relaxed them to swing loosely at my sides. With the sun behind me, I made my shadow hands resemble those of a Lego figure on the path before me. My hands are empty until He puts something in them.
For me, open hands cue a quiet, faithful spirit. They wait for God’s prompting and then move, with His blessing, assurance and grace. There is no desperate grappling or grand show of the martyr, saint or victim. He fills, I respond, I wait with my hands open once more.
Instead, you ought to say, “If it is the Lord’s will, we will live and do this or that. As it is, you boast in your arrogant schemes. All such boasting is evil.” James 4: 15-16
Meeting God at the Park 