Whose hands? By Charles Spurgeon. Psalm chapter 31, verse 15. My times are in your hands. What a sweet and trusting declaration from the lips of David. In the midst of trouble, betrayal, and weakness, David casts himself wholly upon his Savior God. These are not merely words of resignation. but of restful trust in the absolute sovereignty of God. The believer knows that his every moment, his every event, his every affliction, and his every joy are lovingly decreed and directed by his wise and gracious Father. Nothing is random. Nothing is meaningless. Nothing is outside of His control. My times, not just the favorable ones, but the painful ones too. Times of darkness and delay. Times of persecution and sorrow. Times of temptation and confusion. They are all in His loving hands. Whose hands? The hands that fashioned the heavens and laid the foundation of the earth. The hands that uphold the universe by the word of His power. The hands that were pierced for our transgressions. The hands that gently lead His flock, carry His lambs, and uphold His weak ones. Into those hands David entrusts not only his soul, but his very moments and seasons. This is the anchor for every storm-tossed saint, that his life is not governed by chance, nor is it at the mercy of evil men or fickle circumstances. His times are in the hands of Him who cannot err, who always acts for the good of His people and the glory of His name. The believer may not know what tomorrow holds, but he knows who holds tomorrow. He may not understand the present sorrow, but he is assured that not a moment of it is wasted, for all is measured out by unerring wisdom and infinite love. Here is rich comfort. Nothing can touch the believer but what first passes through the hands of his Heavenly Father. Sickness may come, but it is sent by Him who is the Great Physician. Loss may break in, but it is ordained by Him who gives and takes away with perfect wisdom. Delay and disappointment may shadow our path, but behind every dark cloud is the smile of sovereign mercy. Christian, rest your weary soul in this truth today. My times are in your hands. not in my own hands, prone to folly, not in the hands of man, frail and fickle, not in the hands of fate, blind and cruel, but in your hands, fatherly, faithful, and full of compassion. Never lean on your own clouded understanding, but surrender every hour, every season, every unknown into his wise and loving care. The believer sees his life as a tapestry woven by divine fingers. Though he may not see the pattern now, he trusts the weaver. My times are in your hands.