BY DAWN REED

I had wanted to raise my hands in church for years. God has been so good to me; He certainly deserved it. When I read the verses about raising my hands, or sang songs that mentioned it, I felt convicted. I raised my hands at home and in the car, yet at church, my hands remained at my sides.

I am being gut-wrenchingly honest when I tell you I was afraid I would do it wrong. Was I supposed to hold them straight up? Or to the side? Should I keep them up for a while or just for a bit? Would people stare? Would they wonder why I had not done it before?

David wrote in Psalm 141:2: “May my prayer be set before You like incense, may the lifting up of my hands be like the evening sacrifice.” I wanted to do that.

When I see others raise their hands at church, I love it and often get choked up. It is the sweetest thing. P.S. I do not judge those who are not lifting their hands. You do you. I am over here in my weirdness trying to figure out what I’m supposed to do.

I progressed to putting my hand over my heart. Truth be told, some worship songs speak so deeply to me that it feels like my heart might leap from my chest. (Goodness of God and Holy Forever are two of my faves.)

I am a Southern Baptist to the bone marrow. Growing up, people in church only raised their hands if they had a question or knew the answer to a question that had been asked. We were nothing if not reserved. So, I kept my hands in my lap. For decades.

Until I could not.

The first time I finally had the courage to raise my hands in worship was at a Women of Joy conference. Out of town. In the dark. It felt weird, but I secretly rejoiced for being obedient. The next week at church, I went back to my usual reserved self.

Finally, finally, being 60+ years old, my hands would no longer stay at my sides. Now, I just do it. I do not know if it looks weird or if anyone notices. Not my problem. Am I saying, “I know the answer”? Well, I do know the Answer – personally. And He loves me…so very much.

Last week, my youngest sister sent me a video of her granddaughter, Lucy, who is 17 months old.

Lucy found praise music on her mom’s phone. She was humming (with her pacifier in) and had both of her sweet little arms held up. She was smiling ear to ear and swaying to the music. It was the most natural thing. I could not help crying.

How wonderful that little Lucy is uninhibited in her praise of the Lord. She is learning to worship at an amazingly young age. You go, Mom and Dad.

I do not have all the answers about praising the Lord. As you’ve read, I am a mess. But I adore my precious Heavenly Father. I do not want to hold back any longer.

“I will praise You as long as I live and in Your Name I will lift up my hands,” (Psalm 63:4).

Yes, I believe I will.