Have you ever thought about history in these terms? That there is in a sense, ‘a Great Cosmic Author’ that we call “God” because we don’t really know what else to call Him, or even if calling God a “Him” is entirely proper at all... but there is an Author/Creator/Potter/Artist who is writing His story and you, we... are the pages He is writing on. “We” begin as blank pages, a clean slate and the story of our lives, the different chapters of our lives, the things we say and do and think— these things are as vignettes in that great Book of Life that this Author/Creator is recording.
We see this in scripture, knowing little about this person or that, instead we read from what is essentially a collection of short stories from past lives (from history) that we call ‘scripture.’
But we are only pages in a book that someone else is writing. And are we not like lumps of clay in the hands of a Great Cosmic Potter who takes this clump and molds it, shapes it into a container...a vessel that can be used for some practical purpose. We are the clay that is shaped. We become the vessels to be filled as He should will, for His own purposes.
We are the album that begins empty, to be filled later with snapshots and clippings of our lives and all that becomes of us. Of what we become.
It’s beautiful to consider this. He’s writing a story. And I’m featured in a part of it. He’s shaping clay that is me- and he has a specific purpose in mind.
We see this in scripture, knowing little about this person or that, instead we read from what is essentially a collection of short stories from past lives (from history) that we call ‘scripture.’
But we are only pages in a book that someone else is writing. And are we not like lumps of clay in the hands of a Great Cosmic Potter who takes this clump and molds it, shapes it into a container...a vessel that can be used for some practical purpose. We are the clay that is shaped. We become the vessels to be filled as He should will, for His own purposes.
We are the album that begins empty, to be filled later with snapshots and clippings of our lives and all that becomes of us. Of what we become.
It’s beautiful to consider this. He’s writing a story. And I’m featured in a part of it. He’s shaping clay that is me- and he has a specific purpose in mind.