Moses spends his last recorded words blessing people, tribe by tribe, and inside the blessing sits one of Scripture's most comforting sentences: the eternal God is your refuge, and underneath are the everlasting arms.

Underneath. Not adjacent, not available upon request, underneath, already, all the way down. Fall back on that as you read today.

The bent-over woman had spent eighteen years looking at the ground, and Jesus called her forward, laid hands on her, and straightened what nothing else could. Underneath her whole long affliction, it turns out, were the everlasting arms, and the Sabbath was exactly the right day to prove it.

The fig tree parable keeps the day honest: grace has a Gardener who begs another year and gets to work with a spade. If you feel unfruitful and on notice, that intercession is happening for you; if you know someone bent low, be today's kind word. The arms underneath do not tire, and they are underneath everyone you will meet.