The Little Finger That Teaches Me About God

My eight-year-old daughter has a way of pointing that relocates my will.

She gestures, I go. No debate.

Her small finger can move a giant—not through manipulation, but through love’s authority. Her pointing is trust. It says, “Dad sees me. Dad delights in me.” Something in me stands up with joy simply because she wants me.

Scripture knows something about fingers that move mountains.