While visiting our son’s church with his family, we were delighted to see the children invited to the front so the congregation could pray for them. One little boy, about four years old, caught my eye. He was standing there with his hands held up in front of his chest like crab claws.

My daughter‑in‑law leaned over and whispered that he had recently learned about crabs and decided they were the fiercest of all sea creatures. So whenever he found himself in a frightening situation — such as standing in front of the whole church — he made his hands into pincers to feel strong.

There he was, standing in front of the entire church, facing a sea of grown‑ups, and choosing crab hands for courage.  I couldn’t help smiling. Children are wonderfully literal. They reach for whatever symbol of strength they understand — even if it’s a crustacean.  But as I watched him, I felt a gentle nudge in my own heart.

How often do we do the same?

When we feel exposed, overwhelmed, or out of our depth, we reach for our own version of crab hands:

• a defensive tone
• a stiff posture
• a quick retort
• a protective habit
• a “don’t mess with me” attitude

We try to look fierce so we can feel safe.  But Jesus invites us to something entirely different.

Praying hands.

Not clenched. Not braced. Not ready to pinch. Open. Folded. Yielded.

Praying hands don’t look strong — but they are strong, because they place our fear into the hands of the One who actually has power.

Crab hands say, “I can handle this myself.” Praying hands say, “Lord, I need You.”

Crab hands rely on self‑protection. Praying hands rely on God’s presence.

Crab hands make us look fierce. Praying hands make us faithful.

Children often show us what we’re doing without realising it.

That little boy wasn’t wrong — crabs are impressive creatures. But they’re not the source of courage. And neither are our own defensive reflexes.  Courage comes from connection. Strength comes from surrender. Peace comes from prayer.

So this week, when you feel exposed or overwhelmed, pause and look at your hands.

Are they crab hands — ready to pinch, protect, or posture?  Or praying hands — ready to trust?  May we learn to trade our crab claws for folded fingers. May we choose prayer over self‑protection. And may our children see us modelling the kind of courage that doesn’t look fierce, but is rooted in faith.