Years ago, when I was going through a very hard time, I woke up one night with a clenched fist. It wasn’t an “I-wanna-punch-somebody” clenched fist. It was a plea to God. A grip. A “please-don’t-let-go-of-my-hand” kind of thing.

He didn’t.

Since then, I’ve thought of words in the Bible that carry that connotation of gripping God’s hand. He tells us to cling. To hold fast, remain, abide, endure. These don’t seem very heroic or showy in the “see-what-a-great-Christian-I-am” kind of way. Clinging, holding on, remaining, abiding, and enduring are private.

And miraculously, enough. I start remembering fragments of God’s words. Possibilities. Reminders that people can mean something for evil, but God can use it for good. Scriptures like “Do not conform to the pattern of this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind.”

Transformation is kind of a big deal. Nothing I seem to be able to conjure up with heroics.

So when it seems the world is going to hell in a handbasket…or when I’m being criticized…or when I’m weary, my default is that hand squeeze.

And I’m reminded that God’s got this.