In God's Hands

Randall Wallace, author of the recent movie "Braveheart", also has written a book called "The Touch".

Because of a trauma that has affected his life, a brilliant surgeon decides he can no longer do brain surgery on people. But with his skills and knowledge, he can guide other doctors who are doing operations. He also is persuaded to assist a medical technology company trying to develop a computerized program to help surgeons operating in the brain. The doctor and the woman who heads the company fall in love. But she is afflicted with a medical fault that heretofore has been considered inoperable. The surgeon masters his emotions enough to promise to try to save her life with a dangerous operation. But at the last moment after she's on the operating table, he loses his nerve and walks out.

A wise priest counsels him saying – "You offer your hand to God. Whether He uses it – whether your hand becomes His hand – is up to Him."

The surgeon returns to the operating room and successfully operates, thus saving the life of the woman he loves.

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"You offer your hand to God. Whether He uses it – whether your hand becomes His hand – is up to Him."

Oh, really?

If I could honestly, earnestly grasp and believe (feel, know, think, assume) that statement, would I be able to stop saying -- "If I try I'll probably fail"? Or, "What's the use? It isn't going to work anyway."

We know that we have plenty of limitations. And we have to be careful that we aren’t tempting God by assuming too much that he will grandly use us. But what if I could trust that it was all up to God, not me? Would that erase my sometimes-thoughts -- "I'm not good enough, clever enough, useful enough, clean enough"?

I have no idea how we flawed human beings can become certain that whether God uses our hands, is up to Him. It doesn't seem to do any good for me to give myself pep talks about how God sees me. I keep wondering if I am flubbing what he had planned for me. (Which is, of course, the enemy of our souls trying to shame me into thinking I need to be in control. Dare I even say I’m subtly, unconsciously trying to play God?)

I know I ought to believe God our Savior is always at work. That he’s in control. That “all things work together for good to those who believe…” But no matter how many times I tell him I trust him, I always seem to fall back again into my fears. Nevertheless, I will just keep on coming to him. I admit my brokenness, my inability to measure up to what I consider to be God's standards. And I will keep on offering him my life, my hands, my intentions, and my dreams.

Whether he uses me – is up to him. Not up to me? Whew! What a relief.


“For we are his workmanship, created in Christ Jesus unto good works, which God hath before ordained that we should walk in them.” (Eph 2:10)


This post is shared with
Laura Boggess' "The Wellspring" Playdates with God

Re-Purposed Art

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“Re-purposed art”.

A mild freeze zapped the nasturtium vines. (Though some of the leaves still looked green the next morning, they are no longer being nourished by the roots, and so, their death will be inevitable.)

Why would I take pictures of a tangle of ugly, dead nasturtium stems?

Patterns. That’s why!










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The original photo shows that part of the garden is a mess. But oh, how much material a single photo gives me for graphics-play! “Re-purposed art”, some call it, making something new out of something old.

God sees the mess in me. The dead tangles, disconnected from the vine of Christ. But how thankful I am that he also sees the beauty-parts in my life -- worth saving, worth changing and re-coloring. “Re-purposed art” – making something new out of something old. I’m trusting that God the Creator is at play making his wonder-patterns in me.


This post is shared with L. L. Barkat's "Seedlings in Stone"
On, in and Around Mondays

and Laura Boggess' "The Wellspring"
Playdates with God

What the Wind Brought----

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What the Wind Brought—

I have no trees in my front yard –
But I had bright autumn leaves
All shining in the ragged grass.
A galloping winter storm
Blew them far across the street.
The rains came down for days,
And kept those jewels new/fresh.
When those liquid drops stopped,
I ran out to see what the wind brought---

Orange and red and rusty-fall;
Yes, even some still tinted green.
I gathered fistfuls, gleefully,
Bringing them in the house with me,
Arranging them “just so”, to see---

The leaves in the neighbor’s drive
Turned brown-squishy from driving cars.
The leaves I’d salvaged, I pressed to dry;
They’ve lost their shine; colors will fade someday.
But the ones captured with camera eye
Will ever stay bright autumn colors,
And every time I look at pics
I’ll have delightful memories
Of the God-breathed mood that came over me
After gathering in what the wind brought----

copyright 2011 by Marilee Miller
Feel free to link to this post. But please, no copying of images or text without permission







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This post is also shared with L. L. Barkat, "Seedlings in Stone"
On, In, and Around Mondays

and Laura Boggess' "The Wellspring"
Playdates with God