He's Got The Whole World

Hands 

A reflection on the May 24, 2022 shooting at Robb Elementary School in Uvalde, Texas that killed nineteen children and two teachers

Besides Jesus Loves Me and Deep and Wide, it was one of the first songs I learned in Sunday School.

He's Got the Whole World.

The first time I heard its title, I remember how my eyes widened, then narrowed, at the thought. Really? God must have pretty large hands. 

As we sang, Deaconess Afrie would instruct us, Make a big circle with both arms, then cup your hands in front of you as though you were holding the world. 

She continued. Now for wind, wave your hands back and forth like they are blowing. For rain, put both hands high in the air and wiggle your fingers as you bring them down to indicate rain.

I was chuckling, How fun! He's got the wind and the rain in his hands and I do, too.

Then more characters came in.  

He's got the gamblin' man in his hands. He's got the lion man in his hands. He's got the crapshoot man in his hands.

This was large, but I was comforted. They were all safe in his hands.

He's got the little bits of baby in his hands.

Aww, even spoiled Youngest Brother?

He's got you and me brother in his hands. He's got you and me sister in his hands.  

It was the kind of thought I replayed in my mind in the weeks that came and filed with hundreds like it, magnifying its significance. I had clung on to its comfort even as I grew up and was raised in church.

Learning stories and parables by heart.

And reciting the story of  Noah and the flood and Jonah and the whale and Jesus feeding the 5,000.

And earning the title of First in Bible drill, someone who knew where to find Malachi. 

But even as I had all the Christian boxes checked off, I came to realize how things and ideas get very small after a while if you stick around long enough.

I miss the days when the whole world could be covered with love by a God who was so big. 

When He's got all of us here in his hands.

When my God was a giant.