A Word About… Handwriting

Lately, I’ve been thinking a bit about handwriting. There’s something deeply personal about it, I think. A signature on a document. A note scrawled in the margin of a well-worn Bible. A letter, faded with time, written by a hand that is now long gone from this world. It may be messy, uncertain, full of crossed-out lines and or scratched out, scribbled-over mistakes. It seems to me that handwriting has a sort of ‘personal’ feel to it. It carries the weight and identity of the one who wrote it.

It’s different from penmanship. Penmanship is polished—practiced strokes formed with precision. But handwriting? That’s the unfiltered mark of a person on a page. A unique reflection and indicator of who they are. Experts can identify us by our handwriting.

I think in a strange sort of way, God can be identified by His handwriting, too.

The first time He displayed his handwriting was on stone. The Ten Commandments. Words carved by the very hand of God. Not whispered. Not suggested. Written down. Written out. Permanent. Unchanging. A covenant literally set in stone.

The second time, He displayed his handwriting was on a wall. Belshazzar, king of Babylon, was throwing a party— He was mocking God, drinking from sacred vessels he’d taken from the temple in Jerusalem. He thought he was getting away with something. And in the middle of his party, God’s hand appeared. Writing words no one could understand, until translated: Weighed. Measured. Found wanting. The handwriting was on the wall, for Belshazzar and judgment was at the door.

And then, there was a third time. But this time, God didn’t write on stone. He didn’t write on a wall. Instead, he wrote in the dust.

A woman, caught in adultery, was dragged into the temple court by accusers. Thrown at feet of Jesus. The law was clear, they said. The sentence was death. The religious leaders stood there, stones in hand, waiting for Jesus to confirm the verdict.

But He didn’t sign a verdict.

Instead, He knelt down and wrote something in the dirt.

No stone tablets. No palace walls. Just dust. The same dust from which man was formed. The same dust to which all men return. He wrote something. Those accusers could now read the very handwriting of God. They dropped their stones, one by one, until only the woman remained.

What did He write? No one knows. But whatever it was, it turned condemnation into conviction. Judgment into mercy.

Your life may be messy, uncertain, full of crossed-out lines and scribbled-over mistakes. But in the hands of our loving God, even the dust becomes a canvas of grace. It’s a wonderful thing to notice the handwriting of God on my life. How about you?