8 Mar

This made me think about God’s story for my life. When I sat down in the Introduction to Fiction class, I heard quote after quote from Forster’s Aspects of the Novel, a book as engaging as didactic.

There was one which I can’t, for the life of me, find online. But I remember it well, if not verbatim…

In reading the novel, we only see the frayed ends of threads. But the author sees the tapestry.

That isn’t a quote. Almost. But it’s stayed with me so long because I remembered God in my life. Isn’t that how he works? Our great tapestry maker.

I am looking right now and all I can see is frayed threads. A thread here, a thread there. Gray and bright red, almost directionless it would seem. What – really – is the grand scheme here? Where is the pattern book?

In the infinite mind of the creator. And who has known that mind, to whom has it been revealed?

But that seems really distant, still. The author though, the one who writes every sentence, rethinks every word and punctuation, plans and purposes, crafts and moulds into a tapestry – he is here, in the every day, in the now… healing my heart and my mind, leading me on to the next page. Hearing my thoughts, knowing them better than I know them myself. Hearing my questions before I ask them and shock myself. He is right here. In this uncomfortable place – wherever you are, right now, if you’re feeling closed in, know that it is only the heat of the spotlight until people can see Himin you. He is here.

And I have this niggling feeling that if I let the fragile thread of my life, my good intentions, my ability and … just me… follow his needle through the push and pull, through the loops and twists and impossible knots, through the ugly underside and the jungle of multi-coloured threads, I will find myself part of the beautiful picture when I am done. A picture that is me more than I could have ever been myself.

Here I am. Ecce dominus…


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