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Writer's pictureBishop Mesrop Parsamyan

Held by His Hand



We all face ups and downs, trials, and challenges in life. There are moments when we look back and long for the carefree days of our childhood, those times when everything seemed so simple when our parents were there to protect us, to take care of us. No matter what was going on, just knowing they were there brought comfort. They’d hold your hand when you crossed the street, make sure you didn’t wander off in a crowd, and keep you from stumbling. They were your source of strength, of safety.


Our Heavenly Father is the same way. No matter how turbulent or uncertain life may seem, God’s fatherly promise echoes in our hearts. He says in Isaiah 41:13, “For I, the Lord your God, hold your right hand; it is I who say to you, ‘Do not fear, I will help you.’” God is not some distant figure, far off in the heavens, watching us from a distance. He is right there with you, walking beside you, holding your hand like a loving parent holds the hand of a child.


Picture a parent gripping their child’s hand tightly, keeping them safe as they cross a busy street. Or in a crowded place, holding on so that the child doesn’t get lost. That’s what God does for us. He holds us close, making sure we don’t stray too far, making sure we don’t get overwhelmed by the chaos around us. And even when we stumble, even when we feel like we’re losing our footing, we don’t need to fear: “We shall not fall headlong, for the Lord holds us by the hand.” (Psalm 37:24).


So, when life tries to push you down, when the storms roll in, trust in our Heavenly Father, knowing that no matter what we face, He’s holding us close. He’s got your hand, and He’s not letting go. You may stumble, you may slip, but you will not fall because the Lord is your helper, your protector, and your guide. Keep walking, keep trusting, and know that His grip on you is stronger than any challenge you will ever face.

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arminay
Sep 15

It is interesting when you refer to the carefree days of childhood. That is how most of us think of those days, but it was not so for my mother and grandmother, during the years of the genocide in Armenia. She was separated from her mother for a time and was put in an orphanage with her sister. When my grandmother escaped from the Turks and found them, they had no food. My mother's sister died while my grandmother was out looking for food. Yet my mother never wished for anything other than being with her mother. When they did have some food, my grandmother would share hers with other children. When my mother asked her why she was giving…

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