Speak Eagle

Two Hands on the Cross

It’s the day after Thanksgiving. We stand around the front entrance to our home, holding hands, praying grace and safety and blessings over my husband.  I step back and snap a picture to remember the moment.  We pile into the van, suitcases stacked in the trunk and race down the highway headed for the airport.

He’s going to Sudan. Again.

I reach over and play with the back of his hair, knowing it will be over two weeks until I will get to touch him again. Two weeks.

I feel that old fear creep up in me. What if he doesn’t come back? What if he gets shot by merciless tribesmen who don’t know how much I need him? Who will be a male role model for our four boys? And then…Oh, Lord, I dread having to date again.

I finger the ligaments in his neck. Oh, wait! Whew. He’s still alive. Like a kid with a mallet at Chuck-E-Cheese, I pop that mole of fear on its head and slam him back down.

With his job as the Pastor of Global Outreach, I have to say goodbye to him regularly as he visits our strategic partnerships around the world. It’s a continual letting go, a continual releasing, a continual test of my faith. And I have to ask myself, “How many hands do I have on the cross?”

Years ago, my pastor, Lloyd Shadrach at Fellowship Bible church taught a message that changed my whole perspective on these van rides to the airport.

As he stood next to a tall, wooden cross, Lloyd’s questions found the root my fear. “Is Jesus enough for you? Do you really trust Him to provide all you need? Do you really trust Him to be enough?”

He then placed one hand on the post of the cross and said, “For a lot of us, we have one hand on the cross and one hand on something else.” I looked down. One of my hands was squeezing the life out of the hand of my husband. His hand was warm and strong, my anchor, my partner in this life.

Lloyd moved his other hand to join the first on the post of the cross. “But true faith asks that we put two hands on the cross. Not trusting in anything or anyone else for our security, for our salvation, for our joy, for our very life.”

Really, Lord?  Two hands on the cross?  That takes a lot of faith. Faith I’m not sure I have. I need Brian. I need his love notes, his faithful pull-in-the-driveway-at-5:30 presence, his son-wrestling abilities. How could I survive without him?

We arrive at the airport. Four little sets of arms hug him, infused with energetic love. I put his backpack on the sidewalk, and then wrap my arms around him. He prays a blessing into my ear. I soak it in.

We hold hands a moment. Share one last kiss and eye-locked I love you’s. I release one hand. He takes a step away. Can I really let him go again? I open my fingers, release my grasp of the man I love.

Two hands on the cross.

1 thought on “Two Hands on the Cross”

  1. Love this reminder and love you friend. Praying for a safe return for Brian and a resting of your heart in the YOUR true support and provider. Miss you so much! Hope to chat soon.

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