Hands and Feet

I can't sleep. And I don't have anything Operation Christmas Child shoebox related to write about at the moment.

So let me share a little pet peeve of mine. Oh, believe me, I can be the queen of peeves and they're the only pets I have so sometimes I hang onto them pretty tight.

This one's just a little one but it has to do with what I call Christianese. Sometimes it seems we followers of Christ have our own language. It must seem like a secret code to those who aren't part of the group.

Phrases like "I feel led to share..." or "I'm praying a hedge of protection..." sound just a wee bit strange to the uninitiated. I mean, there's nothing wrong with those phrases. They just sound odd when you try to communicate the meaning.

Anyway, one that bothers me a little is when we're planning to do something good (in Christianese we call it ministry) or have done something good we say we are "the hands and feet of Jesus."

Really? My feeble attempt to help my brother (there's another phrase) makes my hands and/or feet synonymous with those nail-pierced ones of Jesus? I don't think so. Jesus doesn't need my help, of course, but because He loves me and is merciful He invites me to come alongside Him in the good He does in the world.  But I still don't think my availability makes my hands and feet worthy of comparison to His.

So it's one of those phrases that kind of makes me cringe a bit. Nothing like the hurt in my heart when I hear a fellow believer misuse God's name. But that's another story.

And...I'm thinking right now the best use of my hands would be to get them off the computer keys and maybe over my mouth.