What Bella taught me.

Lifting hands in praise to God while singing is something I've not always been comfortable doing. As a matter of fact, years ago while attending a Sandi Patti concert, I was one of those who cringed when I saw other people lifting theirs. It was something that made me feel very uncomfortable and I was almost embarrassed to be sitting next to someone or near someone who did. I tried to act like it didn't bother me, but on the inside it ashamedly did. I remember thinking it must be a part of "their religion" yet not be a part of mine. I remember wondering if they had always been comfortable raising their hands to God and if everybody in their church raised them as well. I remember almost making fun of them because it was something so out of my comfort zone, I couldn't imagine anyone in my comfort zone doing it.

Today, I raise my hands when I sing. It's hard for me not to. Let me tell you why.

About four years ago, I was watching television and everytime I saw a newscast of President George W. Bush getting on or off a plane, the camera showed soldier after soldier saluting him. They would raise their right arm, lift their right hand over their right eye and salute him instantly. It looked like they did it without thinking, and would be something they would do several times a day if they saw him. It looked to me, like they did it as spontaneously as breathing. Even people who were not in the military saluted him, out of respect for him being Commander-in-Chief. Watching this happen over and over again, made me think about God and my relationship to Him as my Commander-in-Chief. It made me wonder if I could "salute" Him, by lifting my hands to Him, as willingly and as passionately as President Bush's soldiers had saluted him.

Standing in my kitchen, listening to contemporary Christian music one day, I decided to make God my Commander-in-Chief. I decided that if United States of America soldiers could salute their weak, human, fallible president that I could salute the one, true and living God. I don't remember the song that was playing, but I do remember what I did. I remember for the first time, giving God the highest position I had ever given him. I gave Him the position as my Commander-in-chief and I saw Him walk down from on high, to meet me on the ground and I gave Him the nearest thing to a salute that I could ever possibly give. I lifted my eyes and I raised my hands, for the first time, and I gave Him the honor I felt He deserved, like I had never given before... and I started to cry. It was a response I never expected.

I knew that lifting my hands to God would honor Him, but I did not know how much it would humble me. That's why when I hear someone say that when a person raises his hands while singing it's only for show, I think they cannot possibly know what they're saying, because the exact opposite happened to me. I was completely convicted of my sinfulness and the smallness of my greatness. I felt like David when he said, "He trains my hands for battle; my arms can bend a bow of bronze. You give me your shield of victory, and your right hand sustains me; you stoop down to make me great." I felt like Isaiah when he said "Woe to me!" "I am ruined!" For I am a man of unclean lips, and I live among a people of unclean lips, and my eyes have seen the King, the Lord Almighty." I felt like I had seen the King and I wanted to salute Him. I wanted to give God the highest recognition I could give Him...and I felt for the first time I did.

Why have I started "lifting holy hands" in praise to God when I sing? Because my singing has shifted from singing about myself and my sinfulness to singing about God and His glory. In times past, I had no reason to raise my hands to God because I was always singing about myself. When I look back through hymnals that were used years ago, the song titles sound something like this: I Am Bound for the Promised Land; I am coming Lord; I am resolved; I am thine, Oh Lord; I believe in Jesus; I come to the Garden Alone; I have decided to follow Jesus; I have found a friend in Jesus; I Know that my Redeemer Lives... and on and on they go. We basically sang about ourselves to others and we did not sing nearly as much to God as we did about God. We are, now, singing many more songs of praise to God, which means we can lift our hands in praise to Him, giving Him the recognition He deserves. Our 'I's" have been taken off ourselves and we have started looking up to God, who has the all-seeing eye that looks down on us. When we lift up our hands, His hands reach down to lift us up and we are humbled and He is praised.

Contrary to what some people think, lifting holy hands in praise to God in a congregation where hardly anyone does, requires much more humility and conviction, than anyone who does not, could possibly imagine. When the unclean woman who had been bleeding for twelve years reached out to touch Jesus, she knew it was wrong, but she chose to reach out anyway. She did not care who saw her, nor if they thought it was wrong, even though she knew they did. She had great faith in the One who could heal her. "Who touched me?" Jesus asked. When they all denied it, Peter said, "Master, the people are crowding and pressing against you." But Jesus said, "Someone touched me; I know that power has gone out from me." Then the woman, seeing that she could not go unnoticed, came trembling and fell at his feet. In the presence of all the people, she told why she had touched him and how she had been instantly healed. Then he said to her, "Daughter your faith has healed you. Go in peace." In humility, by reaching out to Jesus, I believe, this woman gave Him the recognition He deserved, giving Him the opportunity to heal her, "and seeing she could not go unnoticed, came trembling and fell at his feet." I believe that is what I do today. I am in a crowd of people, realizing I am unclean, needing to come to Jesus. I want Him to touch and heal me so badly, that even when I think I can not go unnoticed, I want to receive His power anyway. God's power is only made perfect in my weakness, and by lifting my hands to Him, I am admitting my weakness while desiring His power...which is the opposite of what some people think.

Sunday while raising her hands, Bella reminded me of what honoring God looks like.

Through the eyes of a child, when we are secure in His arms, we feel safe to reach up. But, when He sees from on high, He comes down to lift up...and that is what Bella taught me.