But Moses' Hands Got Tired...

"But Moses' hands got tired. So they got a stone and set it under him. He sat on it and Aaron and Hur held up his hands, one on each side. So his hands remained steady until the sun went down."
Exodus 17:12, The Message

If you don't know this particular story in the Bible, let me give you a brief overview:

The Israelites went out to fight the Amalekites and, as long as Moses held up his hands, the Israelites were winning the battle. As soon as he lowered his hands, the Amalekites began to win. (see Exodus 17:9-11)

That's where we picked up the story. Aaron and Hur, who were with Moses, realized this and did everything in their power to assist Moses. They knew Moses could not do it alone. So they did it with him.

--

Let's rewind in my life about fourteen years to a time in my life maybe only a handful of you have ever heard about. I was raised in a Christian home, a loving family, and was surrounded by people of faith on a constant basis. Being as young as I was, I loved God mainly because the people around me did. To most people we were the perfect family: loving parents, two kids, and an unbelievable extended family that all lived next door.

On the outside, it was bright.
On the inside, we were stuck in an extremely dark, confusing time.

My mom had just been taken to the state hospital, where she was undergoing treatment for "chronic mental depression due to uncontrollable chemical imbalances."

At the time, I knew mom was sick and couldn't live with us.

The truth? She, completely outside of her control, sank into a depression that drove her into a state of confusion, sadness, and suicidal tendencies. She literally had lost her mind.

And it all happened out of nowhere. Mom had a great business, had just completed a playground project for my school, and was there every afternoon to pick us up from school.

Until one day, she didn't.

All I remember is Mom crying. A lot.
Dad slept in the doorway of their bedroom. Too often Mom would try to get up at night and "end the pain." So there he slept...
I just remember him being tired. Always tired.
Women from the church started staying at our house.
And then Mom closed her bakery.

Fast forward three months.
Mom's gone.
In the state hospital.
We had to walk those white walled halls and go through multiple locked doors just to see her.

I remember wondering who she was. She looked like my mom, but it wasn't her. My mom was never sad. My mom didn't cry. My mom laughed, a lot. I get my personality from her... she was always the light in a room. But she just sat there, wanting to hold my hand, and always spoke of how she was going to miss me when she was gone. I was nine, I didn't understand what she meant.

For months I ate homemade meals from church families, stayed with friends after school, and visited Mom in the place with white walls.

I can only imagine how tired Dad was.

Our house was covered with Bible verses, two in particular. He always told my brother and I to cling to them. Little did I know how desperately he was clinging to them himself.

Those who hope in the Lord will renew their strength...
(Isaiah 40:31)

And we know all things work together for good for those that love God...
(Romans 8:28)

Dad was tired.
Knowing what I know now, tired doesn't even begin to cover it.
Dad was weary, weak, and in need of strength.

We went to church every Sunday with Dad, and, although I couldn't tell you a single thing that was preached from the pulpit during these times, one Sunday is permanently etched into my memory.

I was watching my Dad as he worshiped, and he raised his hands. Halfway through the song, Ronnie, our Evangelism pastor, came up behind him and helped hold his hands up. I remember wondering what Ronnie was doing, then later my dad told me the story of Moses, Aaron, and Hur. It was like God was saying, "You can't do this alone. Let me help. I know that you're weak. But you don't have to be."

The image is still alive in my mind.
And it came flooding back at church yesterday when Pete revisited this story.

Community is the way God confronts and redeems our desire to give up.

I have no idea how many times Dad wanted to give up. Personally? I never heard him say it once. But maybe he was ready to give up. Maybe his will, energy, and strength were all but gone.

But on that day, God confronted my dad and wouldn't let him.

Community was in the form of Ronnie, helping him hold his hands up.

--

Most of this I learned to understand later, due to several relapses my mom had throughout my childhood. Medically, I understood why Mom wasn't around each time a relapse occurred. Spiritually, all I knew was that we weren't alone.

All because of one moment.

My dad, too tired to hold up his hands.
And Ronnie, helping him hold them up.

--


*In case you were wondering, Mom is back to laughing, smiling, & is healthy now, and has been for 7 years.*