A Tool

The hammer hits the nail every time. Strike after strike it slowly builds the work of the Master. Nail after nail is pieced together. The hammer, intent on his work, is unable to see the bigger picture. He is aware of only two things, the nail, and the Master's hand. He moves on, unaware of what lies ahead, of when the job will be finished. Occasionally, after the continuous pounding, the continuous work, the head begins to crack and the metal begins to fail. The Master, recognizing the strain, places his tool into the fires of the furnace, and reshapes, remakes it until it is better, more capable to continue its work. And so the work goes on under the capable and understanding hands of the master. The tool is still unable to completely understand the work he is engaged in, but through previous experience he begins to understand in a small manner what he is a part of. The work takes shape, and the tool moves on; from nail to nail, from place to place, always working, always in the Master's hand. At times he questions. He questions the strain, the strain with seemingly little reward. But what he fails to realize is that through the constant refinement, cracks, and strain he has grown. He has grown more than he could have ever done without the constant strain under the Master's hand. And it has moved the work forward. Perhaps in only a small way, a nail here, a nail there; the work is stronger. And what more, it has brought Joy, indescribable Joy. And he serves the purpose for which he was created, and what a glorious purpose it is. To be a tool in the Master's hand.