Make of me a masterpiece! I cried, in a plaintive, ignorant moment of honesty. Aye, my pleasure! replied my Father, with a glowing twinkle of Joy in His eyes. The canvas was rough, the brushes and knives the same. The broad, seemingly random strokes of muted colors caused my trembling, blind heart to fear... ...had I prayed it wrong? Were the words insufficient to relay my desires? Or worse yet, was my Father NOT the kind, loving, genius Creator of all that is out of nothing at all? Time dragged. More rough strokes. More cutting. More random tones. NO DISCERNIBLE SHAPE OR FORM! I cried out Oh dear GOD! A masterpiece, I said... a MASTERPIECE - Not a scrub panel for Your other works, is what I asked for! Aye, my pleasure! He replied, with that same glowing twinkle of JOY in His eyes. The years dragged by, and nothing seemed good... nothing looked right. Oh my GOD! I moaned in exhausted frustration - Time is running out! Even if you keep your word, and make of me a masterpiece... it will all be for naught! As the shadows grew upon the evening of my days, without hope or joy I mumbled ...not my will, but Thine. It was then that I heard Him hum - yes, HUM! There, thats... yes, that is PERFECT! He said with satisfaction and nodding approval - while looking directly at ME. Father? Yes, my beloved adopted son? Father, what have you made of me? With a smile, just beginning to turn the corner of His mouth up, He motioned for me to step to His side. I moved from the canvas of Time to the gold-strewn Streets of HOME and tremblingly moved close to the King. With His hand on my shoulder, and His voice filled with the proud self-satisfaction of a nine year old whos just finished his first 4-H birdhouse, He said Well, go ahead... take a look! I recognized nothing, nothing but the eyes. The eyes were mine... the ones He had given me in the beginning of my walk down there. The rest - was beyond words. I stood silent and awed for a Heavens hour, and then, with tears puddling the clouds He leaned close to my ear and whispered I always keep my word, son, and always had every intention of doing just what you asked of Me. But masterpieces are neither quickly crafted nor formed for short-term beauty. What you became was meant to bless those remaining for generations to come. And then He turned to me, lifted my chin, even as He lifted His at an ornery rake, and said Well, howd I do? ...I LOVE MY FATHER.
Posted on: Wed, 20 Aug 2014 23:49:12 +0000
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