The Hands That Didn’t Let Go: A Parable of Trust in the Storm

The Hands That Didn’t Let Go: A Parable of Trust in the Storm

By Kateb Nuri-Alim Shunnar

There is a melody in the marrow of my bones.

A sacred rhythm that rises even when I’m low.

There are days I can feel it humming under my scars

a whisper that sings, "Trouble don’t last always."

You see, I’ve been through some things.

Storms that made my feet slip.

Nights when the moon turned her back on me,

and all I could do was cry into my pillow and pray the pain away.

But even then, even there,

I heard the faint echo of a promise…

"Hold on. I’m with you. Don’t let go."

There’s a message rising inside of me not just for me but for you, too.

You gotta sing it. Even through the tears.

Even through the disappointments.

Even through the lies you told yourself about being unworthy.

Sing it with your whole chest:

"I’m so glad… I am… trouble don’t last always!"

Yes, clap your hands  not because it’s perfect  but because you survived.

Trouble may knock, but it can’t move in.

Pain may visit, but it can’t own the deed to your soul.

I know He may not come when you want Him

I’ve been there, sitting in silence, waiting for something to shift.

But baby, He’s always on time.

Always.

In times of trouble, He showed up not always with thunder, sometimes just as peace.

A peace that passed my understanding,

a peace that held my shaking hands.

He’s a friend of mine.

Not just in scripture but in real-life trenches.

When storm clouds rose  and Lord, they did

He was there.

Not always loud, but always near.

When I couldn’t bear it, He carried it.

When I was broken, He cradled me.

I’m a living testimony.

Weeping may endure for a night…

and I’ve cried those "why me" tears,

but oh, joy comes in the morning.

Not always at sunrise, but when your soul decides to hope again.

When you feel your breath steady…

That’s your morning.

Let it overflow

Spirit of the Most High, overflow in this place…

 not just this room, but this heart.

This battered, bruised, still-beating heart.

Have Your way in me.

Clean house, remove the junk.

If it’s not pleasing to You, take it out of me.

I give You everything.

I surrender  not just my habits, but my ways.

My self-sufficiency, my stubbornness, my need to be right,

my ego that whispered, "You don’t need help,"

I lay it all down today.

Correct my vision  let me see what truly matters.

Correct my speech  let my words build and bless.

Stabilize this trembling heart of mine.

I cast every wrongdoing, every missed mark, every hidden thing

into the sea of Your redemption.

I don’t want to carry them anymore.

I want freedom.

Surely, I turn myself to You

Upright, sincere, raw and real.

To the One who originated the heavens and the Earth.

The One who set the stars in place

and yet still sees me.

I turn from the dark side of the moon

that hidden place inside me where pain and pride grew.

I turn. And I return.

We want more of You.

We want to feel You like fresh wind on sun-warmed skin.

We want to hear You in the rustling of leaves,

the waves crashing, the baby crying,

the breath of someone who made it through.

We want Your Spirit.

Not in the performance, not in the pretending

but in the real.

We’re doing what we know works:

Prayer. Good deeds. Obedience. Kindness.

Not perfection no, that’s not our rhythm.

Our rhythm is surrender.

Our rhythm is grace.

Our rhythm is trying again.

You may not see it in me

You may see flaws, the remnants of struggle,

but don’t be fooled.

I’m changing.

Because He’s working on me.

And that… that makes all the difference.

I can’t stop dancing.

He’s been too good.

Even when I was too distracted to notice.

I can’t stop praising.

He’s been too faithful.

Even when I was too unfaithful to deserve it.

Hallelujah!

My soul has rhythm.

Not choreographed or rehearsed,

but born of scars and redemption.

Born of nights I thought I wouldn’t make it

but I did.

I will thank the Creator for all He has done.

For not leaving me when I left Him.

For loving me unconditionally, in spite of…

In spite of the mess.

In spite of the ego.

In spite of the silence.

He is:

The Constant Forgiver  every time I break, He welcomes me home.

The Ever-Providing  when the world said "no," He made a way.

The Utterly Just  even when I wanted mercy for me and justice for them.

The All-Hearing  every groan, every sigh, every whispered prayer.

The Most Gentle  when I needed correction without condemnation.

The All-Aware  when I tried to hide.

The Answerer  when I cried, and the answer came through people, peace, or passage.

The All-Wise  when I didn’t understand the why, but He understood the how.

The Most Loving  even when I wasn’t loving myself.

The Observing Witness  never blind, always present.

The Absolute Truth  unshaken by lies or illusions.

The Restorer  patching up places I thought were permanently ruined.

The Giver of Life  not just breath, but meaning.

The Ever-Pardoning  wiping my slate clean again and again.

The All-Knowing  reading my heart better than I do.

The Entirely Merciful  the reason I’m still here.

The Patient  never rushing me, just holding space for me to come back.

Yes, hallelujah!

So today   this moment 

I throw up my hands like sails on a ship catching the wind,

and I let His Spirit move me forward.

Not just out of the storm 

but through it, with rhythm, with praise,

with my hands up, my soul dancing,

and my mouth full of hallelujah.

Because I know…

The hands that hold me will never let me go.

Sophós Kateb Nuri-Alim Shunnar ❤️