One of the most horrifying memories of my early working years was travelling in the Mumbai local trains, hanging on to a metal bar with the desperation of a man who had suddenly discovered how much he liked living. If you have never done it, let me explain. You try to push your way in with the confidence of a seasoned commuter. You spot the bar. Victory. You grab it. And then you realise the problem. You have the bar, but the bar has you.
Your arm begins to protest. Your fingers slowly negotiate terms with gravity. The crowd presses from inside, indifferent to your inner crisis. You are tired. You are weak. You are thinking thoughts you should not think. Perhaps letting go is not such a bad idea. The road below the Khar subway looks strangely calm, almost inviting.
And just as that dangerous thought forms itself clearly in your mind, a strong arm appears.
It comes from nowhere. A stranger. No introduction. No philosophy. Just an arm that grips you, steady and firm, and holds you till the next station. You do not even know his name. You only know that you are alive because he chose to hold on when you could not.
I have often thought that this is exactly how God describes Himself through the Bible. Again and again He says, I will hold you. Not advise you. Not shout instructions from a distance. Hold you.
Isaiah records God saying, ‘Fear not, for I am with you. Be not dismayed, for I am your God. I will strengthen you, yes, I will help you, I will uphold you with My righteous right hand.’ That is not poetry meant for framing. That is commuter language. When your grip fails, His does not.
The Psalmist echoes the same thought when he writes, ‘When I said, My foot is slipping, Your mercy, O Lord, held me up.’ Not after the fall. Not once you have learnt your lesson. But at the exact moment when the fingers loosen.
Even Peter learnt this the hard way. One moment he was walking confidently on water. The next, sinking under the weight of fear and doubt. He did not deliver a long prayer. He simply cried out, ‘Lord save me.’ And immediately, the Bible says, ‘Jesus stretched out His hand and caught him.’ No lecture. Just a grip.
Most of us live our lives holding on for dear life. Holding on to control. Holding on to plans. Holding on to pride. And all the while our arms are aching, our confidence fading, and our fear growing. We think faith means holding tighter. Perhaps faith actually means letting go.
Stop holding on for dear life. Let God take over from today.
The crowds will still push.
The noise will not disappear.
Life will remain crowded and uncomfortable.
But what a peaceful journey it becomes when you feel God’s grip on you…!