If I am meeting you for the first time, I will offer you a handshake. If we are friends, you’ll likely get a hug.
But the touch of the face is an intimacy reserved for the very few.
I am thinking of this as she wraps my cheeks in a warm towel and then, with her fingertips like raindrops, manipulates skin and muscle and nerve endings. She touches my temples and then my forehead. A repeated motion that puts me at ease.
My face is in good hands.
God offers us His face.
My heart says of you, “Seek his face!” Your face, LORD, I will seek. (Psalm 27:8)
Come closer, He says. Not a handshake Not a hug. You get my face.
You get the grace in my eyes and the smile on my lips. You are invited to seek me. To see me. To touch me.
He trusts His face in our hands.
Can I not then, too, trust mine to Him.
You, Lord Jehovah, are my helper and my honor, and the lifter of my head. (Psalm 3:3)
I have always loved this attribute of God. The one who cups my chin and meets my gaze. The one who wipes my tears and strokes my hair.
The one who meets with me face to face.
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