Master, Thou workest with such common things--
Low souls, weak hearts, I mean-- and hast to use,
Therefore, such common means and rescuings,
That hard we find it, as we sit and muse,
To think Thou workest in us verily:
Bad sea-boats we, and manned with wretched crews--
That doubt the Captain, watch the storm-spray flee.
(~George MacDonald, Diary of an Old Soul, July Four)
I read that days ago, and read it again this morning.
We are so common.
Such low souls, with such weak hearts.
Bad sea-boats with wretched crews.
In spite of our wretched state,
our doubtful watching of storms,
and fleeing hearts,
God works in us verily.
In a real way, though it be by common means and rescuings.
Probably the most common thing on earth is dirt.
But dirt, in His hands, lives and breathes, and learns to speak His language.
He formed man out of dirt, in His own image.
He is all glorious, and He decided to copy Himself into dirt.
Does that puzzle you like it does me?
When men decide to have an image of themselves made,
they choose marble, or gold, or any noble material.
Something that lasts.
Something that is valuable before they even form it.
But our Father in heaven can form the eternal out of meltable mud.
What gives us value is the work He puts into us.
His hands forming us, and His breath breathing into us.
Thank You, Lord, for stooping to write with Your fingers in the dirt.