The Touch of the Master's Hand

The Touch of the Master’s Hand

In recent days I have experienced an entirely different ‘take’ on it.

You see, my friends Jeff and Ginger stumbled upon a deal they couldn’t refuse. It seems they came across a large pile of red bricks adjacent to what had been an ancient brick road; now being demolished and replaced with its asphalt equivalent.

Having inquired with the city roads department regarding the status of the bricks, the couple were informed that they were free to whomever would haul them away; (a task made easier in that the couple own a concrete construction company, and possessed the necessary equipment to do the job).

By the time my friends had finished the task they ended up with literally hundreds of the ungainly things. Plenty to lay in a red brick sidewalk, and enough to make a sizable amount off those which remained.

Did I mention this couple are not only my friends, but my employers? (Well, they are). And one of my duties is to report to the shop once a week and provide our crew a safety meeting. A couple of weeks ago as I walked into the shop I saw an object lying on a table which I’d never seen in that particular environment.

One of those ancient red bricks

As I have previously inferred, I was all too aware of the existence of the bricks, and had seen a few examples of the things at our home office. And since a few minutes remained before the meeting, Jeff and I dialogued a bit about that lonely red brick. And in the midst of our brief discussion my friend told me that some of the bricks he’d salvaged from the city street bore marks singular to the person who created them.

…Fingerprints

Unique in all the earth. Over a hundred billion souls who ever graced the face of this planet; the fingerprints of no two exactly alike.

A century or more since the old red bricks were fashioned, and decades after he or she who created them went on to his or her reward; (and ceased to bear those unique signatures of themselves).

To recall a day when the clay was still wet and capable of being molded into something worthy and functional, and now “though dead, yet he speaks,”

…The touch of the master’s hand

You know, each and every one of us are leaving our own proverbial fingerprints upon the lives of those whom God has chosen to set in our pathway; upon those whom He predestined us 

…to touch

To lead, to guide, to challenge, to admonish, to encourage.

As a pastoral counselor and mentor I am all too aware of my obligation, and with the poignant realization that …”my students are living messages to a time that I will never see.”

I am leaving my mark upon them, as surely as the potter left his fingerprints upon those ancient relics. And just as surely as the men and women who first kneaded those bits of clay left their own individual impressions on the objects they created, we are doing very much the same thing.

God grant us the wherewithal to invest our time, talents and treasures in those whom He sets in our pathway, and may we leave our own unique touch upon their lives. Not unlike,

…those old red bricks
 

   By William McDonald, PhD. From (Mc)Donald's Daily Diary. Vol. 41. Copyright pending

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