Rodent (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

a ball point blue ink pen. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

The pen sat on the drawing board; waiting to be used.  Outside the window roamed an animal; waiting to be tamed.  All was ready and waiting.

The writer awoke.  Stretching his limbs, he committed himself to the routine which has been his way since he was a child.  All was prepared for him before the dawn.  Unaware of the gift prepared for him, the writer made a pot of coffee.  A simple pen, and a tiny animal, were about to change his life forever.

With coffee in hand he went to the window to see what the day had brought to the living picture before him.  His eyes looked at the sun, hidden behind a cloud.  He traced the skyline down from the hills and to the place he called his yard.  The animal came into view and he considered its movements.  Pondering what the animal was doing, it came to him about how men tame animals.

Men will capture an animal and teach it to feed from what they provide.  He considered how man will care for the animal in every possible way and with great care to its needs.  His mind saw how men will draw cartoons of things not real.  And how they contrive amazing imagination to represent the life we all live.  These two thoughts sat still in his mind.  They waited like faithful little dogs, panting and waiting to be noticed.

Then it dawned in his mind to write.  With his eyes opening wide with understanding, his hand quickly pulled out the chair and sat at the desk.  He had something to write, something of great importance.  Yet the pen did not find its proper place in the fingers of the man’s hand.  Something was consuming his attention and the pen was not useful at the moment.  He looked again at the animal.  Then the thought began to unravel from that tightly wound ball of twine called mystery.

A man will tame an animal.  He may teach it to act out some characteristics of man.  Perhaps a parrot will be taught to mimic the sounds of a man.  But it is not a real man.  The animal simply becomes a trinket for all to marvel at.  Yet he cares for it dearly, as if it were a tiny man.

Thoughtlessly for a moment, his eyes slid down.  They came to rest on the pen, gleaming in the sunlight.  He perceived that a man might draw the semblance of a man.  And he might cause it to move through animation.  In this animation he might give the drawing words to speak.  And people will marvel at the message which comes from stacked papers in the form of moving creatures.  Even grown men will enjoy the visage.  But it is not real.  It is the imagination of a man to another man.  And the message is the important “real” character.  Just as the tamed animal is taught what is “real” from its trainer.  Both become a message to another man.

And as the man thought of these things he understood the reason for this train of thoughts.  And a sound inaudible filled his soul as words were remembered.  “What is man that you are mindful of him.”  At this noise of silent remembrance he stopped thinking and looked up with eyes that did not perceive anything at all.  He now looked with his soul to grasp the un-graspable meaning.  Nothing of man moved in his mind.

Now he watched something grow before him.  He allowed it to take shape as if it were some kind of being.  He had something on the very tip of his soul.  It beckoned to be held and examined.  And he perceived that this artifact was a beautifully arranged understanding.

He heard, with his soul, what was said before all that is was made:  “Let us make man in our image.”  His mind awoke and asked a question, “Why?”  The answer came in a flash of understanding.  And he knew, without a doubt, that he had heard something valuable.  “For the same reason you tame an animal or pen a creature with human traits.  You do these things to contain a message to your brothers.”

Awe struck him and he considered silently for a while.  “What could this really mean?  How do I create words from man who will utter what I have just heard?  These things are beyond ability to string letters together.”  And his hand only moved to bring the cup to his lips.  The pen lay still, still waiting to be used.

After a moment of reflection on what he had just perceived to be true, the man reached out for the pen.  Quickly now, write.  Write with deft words, trying hard to capture the image into words his brothers might understand.

Summation is all he could manage to write.  There are no words to describe the “vision” of his soul.  He wrote this:  “You are a message to my lovely Son.  I love Him and will dress Him in fine clothes.  Though His Righteousness has been challenged, I will prove Him Myself.  He will rule for My sake.  And you are to worship Him.  I have decreed this message to Him through living creatures.  They will bend their desire to submit to Him.  And I will grant them as a gift, as a token of my love for Him.  I will place these creatures in a place where they will be tested, so that they will prove their worth.  For I will not give my Son something valueless.  Any of these creatures, who desire to become part of this gift, will call out to Me.  I will teach them My ways so that they might be clothed in appropriate dress for a great wedding.  I will present them to Him, for He has earned the right to marry.  He will be your God.  And you will be His people.  So it is.  So I have purposed.  So it will become.”

And now the writer sat still.  This day had begun as all the others.  Yet this message, this understanding, was transforming in value.  And nothing could be done but to worship the One who just gave him something eternal.