NEVER BROKEN BEYOND REPAIR
As life unfolds, we experience reversals and setbacks,
usually unexpected, sometimes unthinkable. Satanic suggestion says
recovery is unlikely, or even impossible. As a result, many choose the
avenue of apathy, never living according to God’s magnificent design – merely
existing. Others develop deep roots of bitterness, passing through days
in cynical contemplation of what might have been, or might never be.
My friend, no matter what your natural senses suggest about
your predicament and possibilities, GOD has designed you as HIS
MASTERPIECE. So never quit, because GOD is not through with you yet!
Recently, I read an intriguing true story. One of the
greatest ambitions of any violinist is to play a Stradivarius.
Meticulously handcrafted by Antonio Stradivari, these rare violins
produce an unrivalled sound. So we can envision the excitement that the
acclaimed British violinist, Peter Cropper, felt when London’s Royal Academy of
Music offered him a 258-year-old Stradivarius for a series of concerts in 1981.
But then the unimaginable happened. As Peter entered
the stage he tripped, landing on top of that rare violin and snapping its neck
completely off! We cannot even begin to imagine how Peter Cropper felt at
that moment. A priceless masterpiece had been utterly destroyed by his
clumsy act.
Peter Cropper was inconsolable. He took the violin to
a master craftsman, doubting that he might be able to repair it. But
repair it he did. So perfect was his repair that the terrible break was
totally undetectable; and, more importantly, the sound quality was even more
exquisite.
The Academy was most gracious and allowed Cropper to
continue using the Stradivarius. And so, night after night, as Peter drew
his bow across those incomparable strings, he was reminded of the fact that
what was once thought to be irreparably damaged had been fully restored by the
hand of a MASTER CRAFTSMAN.
Peter’s unanticipated experience reminds me of my Mother’s
favorite poem, which is entitled “THE
TOUCH OF THE MASTER’S HAND,” by Myra Brooks Welch. It happens
to be my favorite also.
‘Twas battered and scarred, and the auctioneer
Thought it scarcely worthwhile
To waste much time on the old violin,
But he held it up with a smile.
“What am I bidden, good folks,” he cried,
Thought it scarcely worthwhile
To waste much time on the old violin,
But he 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 caroling 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,
“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 caroling 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,
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,
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 is “going” once, and “going” twice,
He's “going” and almost “gone.”
But the Master comes, and the foolish crowd
But the Master comes, and the foolish crowd
Never can quite understand
The worth of a soul and the change that is wrought
The worth of a soul and the change that is wrought
By the touch of the Master's hand.
Remember: Neither your life, nor the life of your loved
one, is broken beyond repair.
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