Take My Hand

This was originally published on September 17, 2012. For such a time as this, it needs to be published again.

I was in elementary school in the mid 1960’s.
A different time; a different era.
A time of separation.

I went to a private school in those days.
Everyone was very much the same.
Except for one sweet girl in my class named, Renee.

I thought she was absolutely wonderful.
Her smile was large and bright and ever present.
She wore barrettes of different colors in her curly hair.

She was my friend.
She was the same as me, except for the color of her skin.
I thought she was beautiful.

Everyone talked about color in those days.
I never understood.
Who wants to have a crayon box with all the same colors in it?
Variety was the best thing.

Crayola crayons were introduced in 1903 by the Binney & Smith Company.
By 1905, there were 30 colors in a crayon box.
In 1958, there were 64 colors.
That was the size box I had in my desk.

Due to the civil rights movement, the color Flesh was changed to Peach in 1962.
That change brought things closer to home for me.

Children want to color their pictures.
Children have no desire to be politically correct, nor do they even know what that means.
A child’s drawing of a face could be purple, or polka dotted with green hair.
It would still be a beautiful masterpiece to them.

Renee was my friend.
I didn’t see difference; I only saw same-ness.
Two eyes, two ears, one nose, one mouth, two arms, and two legs.
She ate the same things for lunch, she played tag, and she liked to read.

Recess was usually in the schoolyard, which had an enormous tree in the center.
The tree had a railing around it, to protect it from children who were tempted to climb.
How I wish I knew the age of that tree.
Its trunk was massive, or maybe that is just my little girl remembrance.

One day, a group of us were playing some sort of game where we all had to join hands.
We were ready to get started.
Everyone grabbed the hand of the person next to them.
No one grabbed Renee’s hand.

I looked around, not understanding.
No words were spoken.
No words needed to be said.
The actions said it all.

I will never forget the hurt look on her face.
Her ever present smile was gone.

I quickly left my place and went over to her.
I grabbed her hand with my right hand.
I stuck my left hand out for someone to grab hold.
Someone did.

The two became three, the three became five.
Soon we had our circle.
We were ready to play.

I looked at Renee and saw the bright smile across her face.

Same heart.
Same Creator.
A rainbow of colors holding hands in a circle we would carry through our entire lives.

I wish things were different today.
I wish we would all remember the circle.
This story comes to mind often.
It is an old story.

To some who were confident of their own righteousness and looked down on everybody else, Jesus told this parable: Two men went up to the temple to pray, one a Pharisee and the other a tax collector. The Pharisee stood up and prayed about himself: God I thank You that I am not like other men- robbers, evildoers, adulterers- or even like this tax collector. I fast twice a week and give a tenth of all I get. But the tax collector stood at a distance. He would not even look up to heaven, but beat on his breast and said, “God, have mercy on me, a sinner.” I tell you that this man, rather than the other, went home justified before God. For everyone who exalts himself will be humbled, and he who humbles himself will be exalted. (Luke 18:9-14)

The old “better than” story.
Better because I’m the right color.
Better because I have the right job.
Better because I live in the right neighborhood.
Better because I can go to the right schools.

Not better in God’s eyes.
That kind of “better than” is all about me.
That kind of “better than” looks down on you.

All we bring to the table is our sin.
We’re not so great when we put our “better” against God’s perfection and holiness.
We deserve punishment but receive mercy.

Mercy is better than death, which is the wages of our sin.
Mercy is better than separation, which is the result of our sin.
Mercy is better than brokenness, which is the consequence of our sin.

God’s “better than” is His great Mercy.

God, the Creator of me,  and Renee, and everyone else in the circle.
God, the Creator of color, the Master Artist.
God, the Creator of the tree.
The railing that kept everyone out was created by us.

We break and separate.
We rename and correct.
All that does is keep us broken, separate, and unsure of who we are.
That is wrong.

Only God can change a heart so that it will reach out to another.
Only God can grant mercy to a sinner.
Such gratitude.
The forgiven sinner wants to bring everyone into the Circle.

Do you know Him?
The God that is full of mercy.
The God who removes railings and barriers.
Take my hand and let me show you.

 

2 responses to “Take My Hand”

1. I love this blog! So timely and true. If only the prejudices we have hadn’t been passed on to us, and we must not pass them on to our families either. Let us learn to love as God loves–love for all, no matter how different. You have “taken my hand” in so many ways, Gina–God bless you!

   Reply

   • What a lovely thing to say, Sue! You and I, and the other women from Bible study, will walk hand in hand together. May we add others to His Circle.
     Blessings,
     Gina

     Reply