By Davalynn Spencer @davalynnspencer
My husband, George Casias, is a master carpenter. I have learned over the years that he is very intentional in his craft. He does not just slap a bunch of wood together, give it a coat of shellack, and call it good.
No.
~
When he begins a project, it comes to life in his mind long before it appears. And he follows a definite process for each creation.
First, he chooses the wood that will serve his purpose. Next, he sands it smooth, cleaning off all the rough edges and splinters. Then he stains it, cuts it to size, and fits it together with other hand-chosen pieces.
The results are masterful.
Often, his most inventive projects come from the scrap pile.
~
An ancient event we commemorate this weekend speaks to another Master at work. Thanks to His great love, we’ve been pulled from the scrap pile of humanity—“redeemed from destruction,” they say.
The Master sands off our rough edges, which is usually a painful process for us, stains us with His blood—a painful process for Him—and shapes us into an item fit for His use. Exactly what He intended. Fashioned for service.
We can no more do this for ourselves than pieces from my husband’s scrap pile can pull themselves together.
~
This weekend, consider your master. Who shapes your life? You?
Who saves you from the trash heap?
Who gives you purpose and turns you into something beautiful?
If you don’t know the Master Creator, His name is Jesus.
Give Him a try.
But now, this is what the LORD says—
he who created you, Jacob,
he who formed you, Israel:
“Do not fear, for I have redeemed you;
I have summoned you by name;
you are mine.
Isaiah 43:1
Low flames snaked along the hillside and fingered into a stand of scrub oak. Embers rained down as Eli flew past on the quad, and the odor of burning straw filled his nostrils. A prick on his head announced the reason, and he yanked off his hat. A quarter-sized hole had burned through the crown. He flung it aside and scrubbed his hair.
Following the panicked herd through the gap, he heaved a sigh of relief. He’d made it.
The engine choked, sputtered, died. The quad jerked to a stop.
A great calm settled over him as he stepped off the machine and faced the fire. In his mind he saw the Humvee through the roiling smoke, heard flames licking its interior. Men screamed where they’d landed on the roadway. One crumpled against a low wall clutching his head. Blood oozed from the bottom of his left leg where a foot had been.
The old has gone. The new has come.
The choice was his.
He blinked, rubbed his face, and looked again at the burning hillside. Oak trees braced the gray sky, and granite boulders shouldered above the flames. Coughing, he pulled the neckerchief higher across his nose. Then he turned for Laura and the ranch. ~The Miracle Tree
Inspirational Western Romance – where the hero is heroic.
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Happy and blessed Easter to you and your family Davalynn!