Doesn’t matter how successful we are or appear to be. It hits us all sometime.
We look at all those smart, clever, brilliant people all around us and kind of figure that God must be done with us.
Well, today I want to share this with you … that’s simply not true!
Moses was a burnt out, 80 year old wreck – a fugitive – tending sheep out back and beyond, when God tapped him on the shoulder. (Exodus 3)
And young Timothy, the Apostle Paul’s protégé, was going through a tough time in ministry when Paul wrote to him, reminding him – despite his circumstances – to rekindle the gift that was within him. (2 Timothy 1:6,7)
I’ve recorded a series of radio messages called Rekindling the Flame – because young or old, God does have a mighty plan for your life, He is in the business of bringing it to pass and I believe that He wants each one of us to lay hold of that plan with our very lives.
So let me encourage you to have a listen or download the transcripts.
But first, if you’re feeling a bit worn out … or passed by … then perhaps today what you really need, is the touch of the Master’s hand:
‘Twas battered and scarred, and the auctioneer
Thought it scarcely worth his while
To waste much time on the old violin,
But held it up with a smile.
“What am I bidden, good folks,” he cried,
“Who’ll start the bidding for me?”
“A dollar, a dollar. Then two! Only 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 grey-haired man
Came forward and picked up the bow;
Then wiping the dust from the old violin,
And tightening the loosened strings,
He played a melody pure and sweet,
As a carolling angel sings.
The music ceased, and the auctioneer,
With a voice that was quiet and low,
Said: “What am I bid 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?” Swift came the reply:
“The touch of the Master’s hand.”
And many a man with life out of tune,
And battered and scarred with sin,
Is auctioned cheap to the thoughtless crowd
Much like the old violin.
A “mess of pottage,” a glass of wine,
A game — and he travels on.
He is “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 is wrought
By the touch of the Master’s hand.
(The poem ‘The Touch of the Master’s Hand’ was written by Myra ‘Brooks’ Welch)