Isaiah 49:15-16 Can a mother forget her nursing child? Can she feel no love for the child she has borne? But even if that were possible, I would not forget you! See, I have written your name on the palms of my hands.
After I read these words, I decided to try an experiment. I wrote one of God’s names on the palms of my hands, to see how often through the course of one day I would see and be reminded of Immanuel, “God with us”:
I didn’t think about the fact that the writing on my hands would catch other people’s attention as well! And I lost track of how many times I noticed, and remembered, and thanked God that he is not only sovereign over the universe but with me as well, caring about me, one of billions on this tiny planet in our small galaxy.
Saturday night Dave and I thrilled to the words and music of Handel’s “Messiah,” sung by the Mendelssohn Choir of Pittsburgh and played by the Pittsburgh Symphony Orchestra. “For unto us a Child is born . . . .” Immanuel.
The experience was made more fun for us by an elderly gentleman sitting beside us, who had never heard the “Messiah” before. Dave and I had bought three tickets, hoping our daughter Valerie could go with us. But Val had to work, and her husband Cesar was sick. We reached Heinz Hall not knowing what we should do with our third ticket. We noticed an elderly man standing alone in a corner by the entrance. Dave asked him whether he wanted to attend the performance, and that’s how he came to be sitting by us, thrilling with us to the beauty and power of the words, rhythms, melodies, the pure gorgeousness of trumpets surprising us from off-stage . . .
All of it celebrating the Incarnation, Immanuel, God with us. The God who so loved the world that he gave his own Son. The God who has my name—and yours—engraved on the palm of his hand. The God who never forgets us.