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MEMORIAL - On a Personal Note: Fit for the Master's Use

Have you ever lost yourself in a scripture, so absorbed by its simplicity, yet amazed at its profundity that you had to read it over and over again to grasp its truth in your life? Come on, don't leave me yet, you've been there. I know you have. I have recently encountered such an experience when I pondered Peter's familiar words regarding trials when he wrote:

1 Pet 1:6-7
6	In this you greatly rejoice, even though now for a little while, if necessary, you have been distressed by various trials,
7	that the proof of your faith, being more precious than gold which is perishable, even though tested by fire, may be found to result in praise and glory and honor at the revelation of Jesus Christ; (NAS)

The process seems intense, that fire doesn't exactly thrill me. But the result reflects our life desire - "...praise and glory and honor at the revelation of Jesus Christ." How each of us long to be "fit for the Master's use", and have such a wondrous result. Paul elaborates on this result when he describes us as the Master's "workmanship".

Eph 2:10
10	For we are His workmanship, created in Christ Jesus for good works, which God prepared beforehand, that we should walk in them. (NAS)

Recently I re-read a book by Max Lucado, "On the Avil". In his illustrative style, Max captures the essence of our sanctification, the trials, events and daily occurrences the Master uses as He creates "masterpieces" of each of us. I couldn't help but indulge myself in the creative process, and with your permission, would like to continue this piece by describing my perspective of being "on the anvil", as the Master molds and shapes us. Lose yourself for just a moment, and come with me to the Master's workshop, the place of forging, the place of refining, the place of "poiema" making.

I am but a cold, hard piece of steel amongst so many others. We have all waited so patiently, stacked in bundles, we have felt safe, protected, yet unused. Somehow each of us has known that this is just the beginning, and yet we must be patient, the Master will call on us, there is more ahead. We have been promised that.

Finally, one day I am summoned. I am brought to the Master's workshop. It is an exciting place, so much activity, so much creativity, and yet so much peace, and yet I feel as if I have been here since the beginning of time. There are bright lights abounding, flashes of brilliance, and beauty. And yet I sense a somberness, at times sullenness, yes even pain. Perhaps loss describes it even better, but nonetheless there is that peace that pervades. I am so excited, that the Master has made it known, (somehow internally to each of us) that today I am to be in His very Hands. I will be moved to a brilliant place of light and warmth. We, the steel, are very excited, anticipating the touch of the Master's hand, and His loving, gentle presence in an even deeper way (Is that possible?).

And then, without warning I am embraced by His hands. His gentle, firm grasp is reassuring. Yes, this is the Master. I would know that touch anywhere. So warm, enveloping, compassionate, and yet I am apparently heading toward and even greater warmth, almost heat. Could it be? Is there more warmth to experience. Suddenly without warning the Master has placed me in the fires. Flames envelope me, I cannot see. My exterior is singed and my substance turned unrecognizable. My familiar tough, un-penetrable exterior now soft and susceptible. My once proud, rigid form and shape distorted. I have become undone. Why would the Master do this to me, why has He deserted me? And when I thought I could take no more, those hands, those precious hands reached in and drew me out of the fires. What was this process? Why would the Master allow such travail? But oddly, that peace is still present, and I'm sure He knows what He is about.

We are moving to a cooler place, a place of rest I hope. I am tired, and feel as if I can't continue. I'm glowing from the fires, and my shape has changed. Perhaps the Master will allow me to rest, to stay as I am in this new form. But somehow I sense that He has more to do. He has used the fire to change me, but I have not spent enough time in His hands. Oh how I love His hands.

Wait. I am being laid upon a large cool piece of old iron, an anvil. This fellow soldier has many battle scars, and he seems content to allow me to rest upon his back. He is very quiet however, not speaking except to sing a spiritual dirge of praise over and over again. He seems to be one of the Master's favorites. Not asking for much attention, and certainly not one in the limelight (that's where I want to be), but nonetheless very useful to the Master. I have only been here for a moment, and the Master is back. He has another brother in His hand. A strangely-shaped fellow with a fierce look about his head, and a long slender wooden neck. He seems very happy to be in the Master's hands however almost reticent to look me in the eyes. Why I ask? Look at me! I am resting in the Master's house. Ah, to bask in the presence of the Master.

The searing pain which ensued could never be described. Even the tongues of angels failed this time. Every fiber strained, explosive, punishing, grueling sensations abounded. My steel, anvil brother supported me through every blow. I wanted to cry out, but instead clung to him, as my other brother was brought crashing down on me time and time again. When there was nothing left I succumbed, relented and yielded to the Master's blows. Strangely, as I did, the process eased. The pain persisted but the metamorphosis the Master intended came about so much quicker.

I'm not sure how long I was out. It seemed like days before I could open my eyes. I had made it. I had endured. I wasn't quite sure why the process was necessary until that morning. I didn't recognize my surroundings, nor my fellow servants. However, I did recognize that voice. The one that "stilled the many waters", called Lazareth from the grave, and spoke the worlds into existence. And then that hand. The warmth and compassion it embodied were unmistakable. It was the Master. I awoke to find myself at His very table, at His very dish, in His very hand, part of His very silverware. Shining back the reflection of Him, I understood that the Master had "hand-chosen", no, "hand-forged" me to be His. To forever more be at His table, serving Him, the object of His delight. The process had purpose, and I finally understood.

Phil 2:13
13	for it is God who is at work in you, both to will and to work for His good pleasure. (NAS)

Yes my brothers and sisters, "...we are His workmanship, created in Christ Jesus for good works, which God prepared beforehand, that we should walk in them". It is the Master, who is at work in us. There is a process however. Painful, sobering, necessary, it is with purpose, it is for His good pleasure.

Want to be fit for the Master's use? Want to be His Poiema, experience His good pleasure? Come on and get up on the anvil with me. The Master is about to begin His handiwork.

Coram Deo,

Jeff