Hands of Faith

Sermon from July 1, 2012

"Hands of Faith"; Based on Mark 5:21-43

            Over the years, my grandparents have been collecting religious figurines from the Lenox Company. These figurines depict various scenes from the Bible and from Jesus’ ministry. Now, I’m not sure if the at the start they had it in mind to give them away, or if that thought came as the collection grew and as life progressed. But they collected at least 20 of these Lenox figures—enough to give one to each of their five daughters and their 15 grandchildren. While my mom and aunts all have their figurines already, my grandparents have decided that the grandchildren will receive theirs as a wedding gift. So to celebrate marriage, my grandparents carefully select which scene best represents or relates to the grandchild. This Saturday, my cousin Michael will be the third grandchild to get his figurine as he marries his fiancé Stacey. I wonder which one he’ll get!

            This past week as we unpacked and began to settle in, I came across my own figurine. I have to tell you the story behind it—because you see—two and a half years ago when Kevin and I were married, I was a little disappointed to see which figurine my grandparents selected for me. Don’t get me wrong—I was grateful for the thought and was deeply appreciative of the sentiment. This just wasn’t one of my favorites. Oh, I had my favorites. As one of the older grandchildren in my family, I grew up watching the collection grow. I remember as a child studying the different scenes that each figure depicted. I remember the game I would play when I learned there was a new one on display and had the chance to see if I could find it. Yes, I loved to look at the figurines! There were images of Jesus blessing the children, of Jesus the shepherd with the sheep. Jesus breaking bread. Jesus feeding the hungry. All these wonderful stories captured in small, pure white statues. And then….there were the praying hands. A plain old disembodied pair of hands folded in prayer. That one never caught my eye. I never stayed to look at them for long. “There’s no story in that” my young mind thought.

            But as you might guess and can see on the altar behind me, two and a half years ago I opened the box to find those same praying hands. When I saw those hands, I couldn’t help but be slightly disappointed, of all the beautiful stories, and here were hands. The same thought came to me, “where’s the story in that?”

            Then this past week I unpacked those praying hands. That’s when it finally occurred to me, the whole Christian narrative is in those hands. For hands folded in prayer is perhaps our oldest and profound expression of faith. But it’s not just prayer, it’s more than that. I suggest that our entire faith journey can be expressed through our hands.

            Today’s Scripture reading reminds us that our hands tell our faith. The Gospel writer, Mark, vividly recounts two miraculous healing stories. I don’t know about you, but I can actually imagine seeing this scene unfold. Jairus comes in desperation, falling in faith at Jesus’ feet. Begging him to come heal and save his little daughter. I imagine Jairus shaking his hands as he pleads, “please, Jesus” or maybe even stretching out his arm in supplication begging, “Come, Teacher, please.” I’d be surprised if Jesus stood idly by, passively watching the scene. Instead, I can see Jesus extending his own hand to Jairus in comfort and support. Pulling him gently to his feet as he follows him to where the girl is. See how hands can tell the story?

            Can you see the faith of the suffering woman, in her desperate yet tentatively outstretched hand? Her hand which with a single touch shattered all types of religious and cultural boundaries. For considered an outsider, one made unclean by her illness, a woman no less!, she dared to stretch out her, to brush the hem of Jesus’ robe, fully trusting that should would find healing and salvation in a touch. And she does!

            Then Jesus himself, goes in to the little girl. He takes her lifeless hand in his own life-giving one and she begins to walk around, alive again. All through the work of hands. Healing hands. Hands outstretched in faith. Hands pleading out of love for another. A testimony to our faith story, all in our hands.

            Friends, our hands are powerful. They witness to our faith, they tell our story. In reflecting on this, I am reminded of a scene in a movie: Talladega Nights: The Ballad of Ricky Bobby. In the scene, Will Ferrell playing racecar driver Ricky Bobby is being interviewed after his first victory at a race. In the middle of the interview, he begins grabbing the microphone saying, “I’m not real sure what to do with my hands.” The interviewer gently lowers his hands instructing him to just keep them by his side. As the interview goes on, you can see Ricky’s hands slowly and awkwardly creep into the camera shot. It’s a pretty ridiculous situation that makes for an amusing scene. Ricky just doesn’t know what to do with his hands.

            It’s great for comedy, but for Christians, not knowing what to do with our hands is a tragedy. In a society in which hands cause violence and abuse, when hands neglect and violate, we as Christians must know what do with our hands. Because, remember, our hands tell our story.

            The picture that is hanging between our main doors at the back of the building is a powerful reminder of the story hands can tell. If you haven’t looked at it recently I encourage you to take a few minutes to see it before you leave today. It is an image of a young girl. She is holding the Risen Christ’s hand in her own. With her other hand she is gently pointing to the wound in Jesus’ hand. She looks up at him wonderingly asking, “what happened to your hand?”

            Friends, we know what happened to his hand. While his hands were pierced for the weight and brokenness of our sin, Christ still opened them to offer grace and forgiveness to us all. That is our faith story told through hands. So I ask you, what story will your hands tell?

            As you reflect on this, I want to close by offering some of my own reflections on the story your hands have told. Because I know that your hands have been busy in telling your story. The hands that nurtured Pastor Curt and Michelle and which held Caleb, Jude and Malachi, have already graciously been opened to bring us into the Faith family. In the week since we’ve moved in, Kevin and I have been blessed and welcomed by the work of your hands. Your hands have showed Christian love and hospitality through the labor of home improvements, through the extended hands and open arms of greeting, through the wonderfully prepared meals. But it’s not just us who have been blessed by your hands. No, you have shared your story with others. Your hands have shared the faith by serving the community at Open M. Your hands have cared for creation as the gardens were tended. Your hands have prepared to pass the faith to our children as Vacation Bible School approaches. Already this morning your hands have told our Christian story as they folded in prayer and were lifted in praise.

            Now, our hands will tell the story as we come to the table together. We will come like the girl in the picture, with open hands ready to receive the body of Christ, broken for us all. May this Communion meal be the bread for your journey. May it prepare you so that never again will you find yourself like Ricky Bobby, unsure of what to do with your hands. May the grace of this table free your hands to be hands of faith in this world. For like my grandparents knew all along, the whole story can be told in our hands.