But now, O Lord, You are our Father. We are the clay, and You are our pot maker. All of us are the work of Your hand. [Isaiah 64:8 (NLV)]
When writing about giving God the glory and how we are but instruments of God’s grace in the world, I recalled a quote by Mother Teresa having to do with being God’s pencil. Wanting to quote it correctly, I Googled it. Along with the quote, I came across several versions of a parable about a pencil. Of unknown origin, it has been around for more than twenty years. Nevertheless, the parable was new to me and this is my version of “The Parable of the Pencil.”
Just before putting the pencil in its box, the Pencil Maker said there were several things it needed to know if it were to become the instrument He created it to be. “First, don’t ever try to be a stapler, scissors, paper clip, or ruler. Always remember you are a pencil and have been created with a definite purpose—to draw a line forming shapes, letters, and words that leave a definite message.”
The Pencil Maker continued, “Although small, you can accomplish great things, but only if you allow yourself to be held in someone’s hand.” Although He warned the pencil that there would be times of painful sharpening, the Maker explained that sharpening was the only way for it to become a better pencil. “Sometimes you’ll make mistakes,” he said, “but that’s to be expected so you’ve been equipped with an eraser just for such occasions.”
“Right now,” said the Pencil Maker, “your exterior is fresh and shiny and you’re quite beautiful. But, with use, your paint will chip, your wood get nicked, and you’ll grow smaller.” Explaining that the pencil’s quality wasn’t determined by its appearance, he added, “The most important part of you is the quality of the graphite on your inside.” After cautioning the pencil that, when too much pressure was applied, its tip might break, he added, “Don’t worry, you can be re-sharpened.”
The Pencil Maker finished up by telling his creation, “You are to leave your mark on every surface you touch. This can be hard work and you may grow tired. But,” he added, “regardless of your condition, you are expected to keep writing. It is for this purpose that you were made.” Understanding its maker’s instructions, the pencil promised to follow them and joyfully went into the box with purpose in its heart.
Of course, we’re not pencils and God is the one who made us but, like the pencil, we’ve been created with a particular purpose, role, and calling in the world. Rather than a student, it is God’s hand that holds us. The only way to achieve the great things He’s planned for us is by surrendering to His will. Rather than a pencil sharpener, it will be problems and difficult circumstances that sharpen and shape us. Like the pencil, we will err but we, too, can correct our mistakes and learn from them. Just as the pencil’s outward appearance is unimportant, so is ours. It’s what’s inside that counts! Rather than graphite, God cares about the quality of our hearts! While undue stress and strain can damage (and almost break) us, that only occurs when we step out of God’s will. Finally, like a pencil, we are to leave our mark on every situation and person with whom we interact. When we stay in God’s will and allow His hand to direct and move us, that mark will be His!
God used Mother Teresa to make His mark on the world and her life spoke volumes about God’s love. Like her, we’ve been given a purpose by our Maker—let us be the pencil in His hand and make that mark!
I am like a little pencil in his hand. That is all. He does the thinking. He does the writing. The pencil has nothing to do with it. The pencil has only to be allowed to be used. [Mother Teresa of Kolkata]
I suspect we would prefer a eulogy that shines a light on our victories and accomplishments but the man known as “the father of modern missions” chose otherwise. When William Carey [1762-1834] was asked what text he wanted for his funeral sermon, he chose today’s verse. The humble man wanted to shine a light on God’s lovingkindness and great compassion rather than his personal accomplishments.
Along the road to the Serengeti, somewhere near the Olduvai Gorge in Tanzania, is a crescent-shaped sand dune. Measuring about 30-feet in height and 328-feet long along its curves, it is known as the Shifting Sands. Rich in iron and highly magnetized, the sand sticks to itself when tossed in the air. When the wind blows, its particles fall back on the dune rather than get carried away by the breeze. The dune, however, is constantly on the move as the prevailing winds slowly move the entire thing across the land. Moving about 50-feet a year, it’s believed that the Shifting Sands have been traveling the savannah for more than three thousand years, sometimes changing both shape and direction. Of course, the dune moves so gradually that you don’t see its motion. Nevertheless, stakes in the ground indicate its location in previous years.
I imagine the shepherds probably were more concerned with making it through the night warm, safe, and without losing any sheep than they were with the eventual arrival of the promised Messiah. They certainly never expected an angel to appear to announce His birth nor did they anticipate a host of angels singing God’s praises. Nevertheless, it was shepherds who received the good news that a child was born—a child who would be their Savior, Messiah, and Lord.
In the first Advent, Jesus came as a suffering servant in a manger. In His second Advent, Jesus will return in righteousness as the conquering King who makes all things right. His return means the final destruction of sin, injustice, hate, disease, death, decay and evil. Our God, however, is one of both mercy and judgement and Malachi’s promise of the Messiah included a warning about the coming day of judgment.