There’s something sacred about hands.

The weathered hands of a carpenter. The gentle hands of a nurse. The strong hands of a father lifting his child to the sky. Hands tell stories. They build, they bless, they hold on when the world comes undone.

“Thy hands have made me and fashioned me…” (Psalm 119:73)

Can you hear the tenderness? The psalmist isn’t just acknowledging creation—he’s remembering craftsmanship. God didn’t mass-produce humanity; He crafted you. With intention. With affection. With a blueprint written in divine love.

But then life happens. We get dented. Dreams break. Prayers linger unanswered. And we wonder—has the Potter put us on a shelf? Forgotten? Unnoticed?

The psalmist knew that feeling. He didn’t deny the hurt. “Thou in faithfulness hast afflicted me,” he confesses (v.75). Affliction and faithfulness in the same breath? Only someone who has walked with God can say that. Someone who has sat in the ashes and still lifted their eyes to the hills.

You see, affliction isn’t evidence of God’s absence. Sometimes, it’s the chisel in the Sculptor’s hand. Not to destroy, but to define. To refine. To ready.

But pain isn’t the end of the story.

“Let thy merciful kindness be for my comfort…” (v.76)

Merciful kindness. It rolls off the tongue like a lullaby. God’s mercy is more than a concept—it’s a covering. A comforter wrapped around weary shoulders. A balm on the bruised soul.

The psalmist doesn’t retaliate against the proud who’ve wronged him. He doesn’t demand revenge. Instead, he leans in. “I will meditate in thy precepts.” He lets God fight his battles while he rests in God’s promises.

What strength there is in stillness. What courage in a quiet trust.

And then, this simple prayer to end the stanza: “Let my heart be sound in thy statutes; that I be not ashamed.” (v.80)

He’s not asking for ease. He’s asking for integrity. Wholeness. A heart that won’t splinter when the storm howls.

Is that your prayer today?

When the critics talk and the answers stall and the night lingers longer than expected—remember this: You are fashioned by His hands and sustained by His mercy. You are not forgotten. You are not alone. And you are never without hope.

So hold on.
Hold on to the Word that holds you.
And let the Potter finish His masterpiece.