"Twas battered and scarred, and the auctioneer
Thought it scarcely worth his while
To waste much time on the old violin,
But he held it up with a smile.
"What am I bidden, good folks," he cried,
"Who'll start bidding for me?
A dollar, a dollar - now who"ll make it two -
Two dollars, and who"ll make it three?
"Three dollars once, three dollars twice,
Going for three". . . but no!
From the room far back a gray-haired man
Came forward and picked up the bow;
Then wiping the dust from the old violin,
And tightening up the strings,
He played a melody,pure and sweet,
As sweet as an angel sings.
The music ceased and the auctioneer
With a voice that was quiet and low,
Said: "What am I bidden for the old violin?"
And he held it up with the bow;
"A thousand dollars - and who'll make it two?
Two thousand - and who'll make it three?
Three thousand once, three thousand twice
And going - and gone," said he.
The people cheered, but some of them cried,
"We do not quite understand -
What changed its worth?" The man replied:
"The touch of the Master's hand."
And many a man with life out of tune,
And battered and torn with sin,
Is auctioned cheap to a thoughtless crowd.
Much like the old violin.
A "mess of pottage," a glass of wine,
A game and he travels on,
He's going once, and going twice -
He's going - and almost gone!
But the MASTER comes, and the foolish crowd,
Never can quite understand,
The worth of a soul, and the change that's wrought
By the touch of the MASTER'S hand.
Myra B. Welch
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How many of us are covered in dust and feel discarded by life? How many of us are beaten down by circumstances, by errors in judgement, by the disdain of society? How many of us see each new day not as a blessing, but as a burden?
The motivational speakers tell us that we are the pilots of our lives, that we make the choice to be happy or to be sad, to be positive or to be bitter.
I disagree.
If we were able to fix everything ourselves, then don't you think everything would be fixed? We would need no doctors, no therapists, no medications, no spiraling thoughts dragging us down into darkness. But we can't, and so there are.
For those with faith, though, there will always be someone to watch over us, to dust us off, tighten our strings, and make sure that we know our worth again, make certain that our heart is perfectly tuned, to make us whole and soulful again, no matter how worn we may be.
The Master is there if you choose to acknowledge him.
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Ye of little faith will be engulfed with faith when your mountain of a burden becomes a mere pile of dust that will then be carried away on the wind, and makes a fool of the man that thinks faith exists only when it is tested.
Practice patience for My WILL can be revealed in due time. Until then, My son, allow your spirit to rejoice and your heart to feel My presence. For I dwell within you. Do not fret on the day's events, but rather embrace them as they are a part of My plan to make you one with Me.
Be happy, be free.
Allow your spirit to connect with others that lead you to Me. Be at peace, my son, for I am always with you.
The Word of God as delivered to me by a prophet
