Some dear friends of mine sent me a lovely set of books last week. They're from the 17:18 series. It's a series of books that are meant to help people fulfill the command in Deuteronomy 17:18 about writing out your own copy of the law of God. I was given the books needed to write out and comment on the whole book of Psalms, and they've been such a blessing. The thoughts below came from studying Psalm 1. Oh, and just in case you wonder, this isn't written from my perspective...
Rough. Hard. Empty. Worthless…
I used to be full of potential, full of life. Inside my heart was a new beginning, a promise of growth. It grew inside me until I was practically pregnant with promise and possibilities. My papery mask was golden and ready to split. Everything was perfect and ready for harvest.
Then the hard times came.
It was a hot, dusty day when sharp blades came and cut my stalk. I fell and was piled with many others just like me. We were roughly carried away from familiar soil to a place we’d never seen or heard about. Lost and confused, we were beaten and tossed, broken down and battered. It seemed that my heart would be torn out of me, my papery mask that had been so smooth and golden was splitting.
“You can’t do this to me! You can’t take that away from me! My mask is who I am!”
I struggled to be heard, but the sweaty farmer who bent over me wouldn’t stop the shaking. I gritted my teeth and held on tight. I wouldn’t give up! I couldn’t surrender!
Then his warm hand picked me up and he rubbed me around in His palm. This was the end. I couldn’t hold on anymore. It was either my husk or the seed. I couldn’t keep both, and I couldn’t bear to be separated from my mask, my covering, the only part of me that had ever seen the light of day, the part of me that I thought made me who I was.
And in that choice, I lost the seed. I lost the life that was in my heart. I lost my heart and became a shell, a simple lifeless husk.
The wind carried away my body, and in the hands of the One who planted me lay the life that He had given and that I had given up.
I gave it up for a husk.
The ungodly are not so: but are like the chaff which the wind driveth away.