It’s amazing how you can read Scripture multiple times and it rings true in a different way with each read.
In Exodus 17, we read of the Israelites battle against the Amalekites.
9 Moses said to Joshua,“Choose some of our men and go out to fight the Amalekites. Tomorrow I will stand on top of the hill with the staff of God in my hands.” 10 So Joshua fought the Amalekites as Moses had ordered, and Moses, Aaron and Hur went to the top of the hill. 11 As long as Moses held up his hands, the Israelites were winning, but whenever he lowered his hands, the Amalekites were winning. 12 When Moses’ hands grew tired, they took a stone and put it under him and he sat on it. Aaron and Hur held his hands up—one on one side, one on the other—so that his hands remained steady till sunset.
Moses knew his responsibility. And he did it with hands held high.
I’ve read this story several times. But convicted by my lack of prayer, I wonder, why do I not practice this? Several excuses run through my head. Ah, that was then. It’s just a matter of the heart. That’s embarrassing, even in private.
Then I look at my son. His earnestness. No words, just hands lifted high. A trust that he will be lifted up, embraced, comforted.
When I practiced this, I was overcome. Humbled. Now lifted up.