The Hands That Shape Us

The Hands That Shape Us

By Kateb

Everything we have, everything we are, comes not from our own doing, but from the divine breath of the Creator. Every provision, every step, every breath we take has been offered to us by hands not made of flesh and bone but of boundless light and wisdom. The Creator, Al-Ghaniyy—The Self-Sufficient, The Wealthy, The Independent needs nothing from us, yet gives us everything. He is the One who feeds our bodies, shelters our souls, calms our hearts, and whispers into our spirits when the world screams chaos.

And yet, how often do we live as if we are our own providers, our own healers, our own gods? How often do we take the blessings placed in our hands and scorn them because they are not wrapped in the packaging we desired? Because they do not arrive in the form we imagined? Because the people sent to deliver those blessings don't look the way we expected? We are quick to reject divine gifts simply because they are not dressed in the garments of our desires. We turn away miracles because they wear overalls instead of halos.

We push away the very hands that cradle us, clothe us, protect us, guide us. We reject the gentle touch of divine mercy, favor, and grace because it doesn't match the fantasy we built in our heads. We pray for provision and then scoff when it comes as a stranger, a moment of silence, or a hard lesson. We foolishly believe we can sustain ourselves, save ourselves, elevate ourselves. But let me tell you—I, Kateb, have witnessed what happens when we appoint ourselves as the masters of our fate. The very floors you build with pride will collapse beneath you. The walls you raise without divine guidance will crumble. I have lived this. And I have learned.

Let me share a folktale passed down through generations of our people:

There once was a farmer who lived in a land of drought. His fields were barren, and his heart was dry. Every day he prayed for rain, begging the Creator to send clouds. One day, a weary traveler came to his door and offered him a small pouch of seeds. The farmer turned him away, grumbling, "I asked for rain, not seeds!" Days passed, and so did the chance to plant. Later, another stranger arrived, offering him a shovel. Again, the farmer dismissed him. "I need water, not tools," he groaned. Then came a child, barefoot and smiling, who pointed to a small spring bubbling behind the farmer's field. But the farmer shooed the child away, saying, "That's just a trickle. I need a river!"

Seasons passed. The field remained empty. The Creator had sent the means, but the farmer refused the method. Are we not like this farmer? Turning away from the process, ignoring the provision, scorning the pathway, and then blaming the Divine for our famine?

Sometimes our spiritual family is closer to us than those we share blood with. Because it is spirit that connects more deeply than DNA. It is in moments of desperation and vulnerability that you find those who carry the fragrance of the Creator's heart. They are the ones who will sit in silence with you, who will pray you through the night, who will remind you that where you are is not a mistake you've been placed there by divine intention.

Peace does not always come wrapped in comfort. Sometimes it arrives in the middle of a storm. It is not the absence of trouble but the presence of stillness in the midst of it. That stillness is a gift. That stillness is the Creator whispering, "I am here." So, ask yourself: what is your offering? What are you willing to lay before the Creator today? Is it your pride? Your fear? Your need to control? Your disappointment? Your broken dream? Bring it. Lay it down. Not in shame, but in sacred trust.

Trust in the Creator with all your heart. Don’t lean on your limited understanding. In all your ways, acknowledge Him in the laughter and the loss, in the abundance and the ache and He will guide your steps. He will direct your path through valleys and over mountains, past serpents and through sanctuaries. And when you stumble, He will catch you. When you cry, He will collect your tears like diamonds. When you grow weary, He will be your strength.

There are things happening in this world right now that should push us closer to the hands of Creation. To live without a relationship with the One who shaped us from clay and breathed into us life is to walk blindfolded through a battlefield. We must petition the Creator for restoration of our minds, our hearts, our families, our communities. We've tried everything else. We've trusted systems that failed, people who left, and ideas that collapsed. But have we tried putting our full trust and faith in the hands of Creation?

Deliverance requires obedience. Breakthrough demands participation. You can’t simply wait at the door of destiny and refuse to knock. You have to play your part. You have to move when the Creator tells you to move. And sometimes, that means humbling yourself until you feel small enough to fit through the narrow gate of purpose.

And oh, how grateful I am that the Creator does not treat me the way I have treated Him. I forget to say goodnight, but every morning He wakes me with a kiss of sunlight on my face. I complain, yet He continues to provide. I wander, but He follows with mercy in His steps.

There are days when I want to do right, but wrong is banging on my door. There is a constant tug-of-war between the holy and the human in me. But the Creator, in His compassion, covers me. Protects me. Elevates me. When my enemies came to devour me, they stumbled. When war rose around me, I found peace like a shield. When I cried out, the Creator heard. And when I sought His face, my heart whispered,

"Yes. Here. Now. I seek You."

So I will offer joy as a sacrifice. I will sing. Even when my voice shakes. I will praise. Even when the pain is present. Because I have seen the goodness of the Creator in the land of the living.

And to you, reader whatever it is you are going through, know this: The Creator is passing by your situation. He sees. He knows. He cares. Just like the blind man who sat in silence until his moment of healing, your moment is coming. Let the hands of the Creator wipe your tears. Open your heart. Receive the restoration that is being poured into your life. And those who once knew you, who once defined you by your struggle, by your past, by your pain they won’t recognize you after this.

You will be transformed. Unmistakably changed. I, Kateb the Scribe, bear witness to supernatural restoration. If you know me, then you know my testimony. If you know what I’ve been through, then you know the power of the Creator. And if you don’t, then stay close you’ll see.

The Creator is not done with you. The story isn’t over. A new chapter is being written, and the ink is divine.

Amen.

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