Today, author Jane M. Tucker joins us with some
thoughts about being a part of God's mosiac!
My first novel is coming out this week. It’s getting good reviews, and I’m really proud of it, and that’s a problem. I’m proud.
Pride. The sin that begins so attractively, and ends in a pit of despair.
Hebrews chapter eleven describes many people who accomplished great things by faith in God. I have sometimes heard this chapter called the “Hall of Heroes,” or the “Faith Hall of Fame.” These titles conjure images of a museum where the portraits of Bible heroes like Abraham, Moses and Rahab hang on the walls. Gold name plates nailed to the picture frames tell who they were, and what they did.
The idea feeds my pride. Someday, I’ll be as great as they were. Someday, I’ll deserve to hang in that hall, too. It isn’t a healthy way to approach my faith walk.
Because the “Hall of Fame” idea is a trap for me, long ago God gave me a different visual: A mosaic, made of millions of different stones, each one reflecting His light with infinite beauty. In the Master’s hands I am a stone, tumbled to a high polish by time and trial, until I am fit to take my place among all the other precious and unique stones in His timeless design.
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The idea of a mosaic is reflected in Hebrews 12:1: “Therefore, since we are surrounded by such a great cloud of witnesses, let us throw off everything that hinders and the sin that so easily entangles. And let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us” (emphasis mine).
The mosaic image holds three advantages for me:
I measure myself rightly. I’m not so much a portrait, grandly set apart in a gallery for all to see. I’m a stone, precious to my maker, but not more so than His other precious stones.
I see myself in relationship with other believers. Our triune God is all about relationship. One lovely stone is admirable, but it gains even more beauty when placed with all the others to form a greater whole.
I remember that God wants everyone to join his family. A missing mosaic tile is instantly noticeable. God needs all his precious stones if his artwork is to be complete.
Now, let me be clear: The portrait painter and the mosaic artist are only metaphors for a God we cannot fully describe. Metaphors clothe the intangible with concrete images, but they are limited. Martin Luther called God a mighty fortress, and David called Him a rock, and those metaphors also have their limitations.
What metaphor for God speaks to you today?
When she’s not gallivanting around New York, Jane M. Tucker works and plays in Overland Park, Kansas, with her husband and three nearly grown kids. She writes about the people and places of the Midwest on her blog, Postcards from the Heartland .
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About Lottie’s Gift
She’s a little girl with a big gift.
Lottie Braun has enjoyed a happy childhood in rural Iowa. Her mother was gone, but she knew her father and older sister loved her and her aunts, uncles and cousins surrounded her. But the quiet, idyllic life she enjoyed as a child ended with tragedy and a secret that tore the two sisters apart.
Forty years later, Lottie is a world-class pianist with a celebrated career and an empty personal life. She moves from city to city, guarding her privacy with fierce vigilance, all to protect herself from the past. But one sleepless night, she allows herself to remember and she discovers that memories, once allowed, are difficult to suppress. Can she make peace with the past? Will she ever find her way home?