If you can recall, we started off with a pencil. New, fresh, never used, unsharpened. That represents us-when we’re just out of the womb, we haven’t yet been affected by this world. We’re babies, not knowing sorrows other than a little discomfort. And we’re perfectly happy to stay this way, in the loving arms of our families. But as we grow, we become curious, growing in our depth of knowledge, learning the ins and outs of living, and becoming more prone to a desire to go out and do. So the author, God, picks us up and begins to sharpen us. He allows us to go through experiences that make us stronger. We may not be able to see how these experiences could ever be good, but they are molding us into a tool that God can use.
Then, God starts to write with us (pencils, as I said in the analogy, can’t write well on their own). Sometimes, we’re eager to write faithfully. When we are, we get the best results, the most happiness, the most fulfillment. But whenever we take on a resentful, ‘why me?’ type of attitude about allowing the author’s hand to guide us, the story often takes a turn for the worse, and we cut off our power source: God. Sometimes, this nosedives into a deeper pit of despair, and it escalates until we’re undeniably stuck in a mud pit of sin. This, in case you didn’t know, is not what the author wants for us. He’d love a story all about love, trust, a learner’s heart, and a faithful servant. What could be better than that?
Soon, the pencil has to get sharpened again. It’s not sure if it can trust the author. That’s how we often are. When God places an obstacle in our way, although we may know that He brought us through past trials, we have a tendency to doubt, to say “but what about this time?” The way the author wants us to react is with-can it be?-joy! “Consider it *pure joy*, my brothers, whenever you face trials of many kinds, because you know that the testing of your faith develops perseverance. Perseverance must finish its work so that you may be mature and complete, not lacking anything.” –James 1:2-4 (emphasis added). Joy?? Really? Yes! See, God doesn’t sharpen us just to hurt us. He sharpens us so that we’ll be mature and complete! He sharpens us so that we’ll be able to write better, conform to His will better, and live out His Son’s love better. Instead of shying away from the painful process of refinement, then, we should take a breath, grit our teeth, say “God, I trust you,” and face it, head-on.
‘But soon, the pencil breaks…’ So, what’s the difference between sharpening and breaking a pencil? Well, when you sharpen a pencil, it fits its purpose better. When you break it, it moves further away from that purpose. Breaking represents whenever we rebel under the author’s hand. We struggle, and since His hand is unmovable, unchangeable, we break. It HURTS. And, even worse, we feel a rush of shame when we come to our senses; how can the author write with us now? But, the pencils and the people forget-our author, our Lord, our infinitely powerful God, is a redeemer. And not only does He redeem and use us again, but He uses our rebellion for good. Because He works ALL things for good, whether or not they’re things He desires for us.
The pencil writes and writes, faithfully serving its author all its life. Eventually, it reaches its last small bit of lead left, and the author ends the pencil’s story. Obviously, all metaphors have their limitations, and this is one of them for our metaphor. For whenever a Christian ends their earthly life, they are met with a new, beautiful life to live for eternity, one of endless worship, endless joy, and endless stories to write. When we arrive to this wonderful eternity, our author smiles and says, “Well done, my good and faithful servant.” But that’s only the beginning of our new story! However, for the sake of the analogy, we’ll end it here, and focus on the earthly life.
“Well done, my good and faithful servant.” Yes, that’s the second time I said that. Just let it roll off your tongue a few times. Doesn’t that phrase amaze you? I mean, doesn’t it just blow your mind? Why would a God use such imperfect, self-destructing beings to accomplish His purposes? Aren’t you just honored that the One who created the universe, the One who has the entire DNA of your body memorized, the One who had to bail you out whenever you felt like you messed up your life-aren’t you just honored that He would desire you, unfathomably love you, want you to serve Him, and call you a ‘good and faithful servant’? Wow! What should our response to an offer of forgiveness and a lifetime of serving Him be? A resounding YES! But what do we usually do? Push God off to the side for Sundays or times whenever we really need His help? Reflect on what your response is to His calling, and ask God to change it if it’s not where it should be.
In sum, when we’re sharpened, we should lift up our hands and say “You know what? Even though I may hate this right now, I’m going to trust you, anyway, God. Have your will.” When we’re broken, we should not cower. Instead, we should stand before our Lord, filth and all, ask Him to cleanse us, and then righteously stand, confident of the bottomless grace that power washes our dirtiness away. When we’re writing, we should allow the author to conform us to His hand, lifting up a willing spirit. And when we die, we should breathe a sigh of relief and expectantly await the beginning of a new, glorious story.
So ladies, let Him use you. Let Him sharpen you, conform you to His son’s image. Let Him take you down scary paths that may not seem right. Let Him. Because He is the author, the ultimate storyteller, and He knows exactly what He’s doing.
-Lydia
