To the real Creator, our Creator God

[Story-Teller]

To the real Creator, our Creator God It was a magnificent sculpture. Funded by the city council, the entire community had waited for its unveiling. Crafted by the most talented sculptor in the country, it depicted the heritage and integrity of the little town like nothing else could. The big day arrived. Next to the sculpture was a smaller, older rusted one that had been placed in the city square some years before. Imagine, if you will, the conversation between those two pieces of molded, twisted steel. "Well, this is my big day," the new work of art declared. "There's no one in his right mind who won't be here today to honor me. I only wish my Dad could be here to see it. He's a beam in an ocean liner, you know." "No, I didn't know," the smaller piece of twisted metal responded, "Mine was last seen going inside a 40 story office building as a brace. He seems to be holding up fine, though I haven't heard from him. Hard to get mail past all that concrete, you know." At last, the moment arrived. "Just wait till you hear my speech," Sammy Sculpture boasted, "I've been waiting for weeks to read it." "You're kidding, of course," the old statue answered, "They aren't interested in you. They'll look at you, but they'll praise the one who made you. You can't do anything but stand there and keep from rusting. It was the one whose hands fashioned you that deserves the glory. Never once has someone praised me in all these years. I am the example of my creator's work. He gets the praise. I'm not worthy of praise. I'm his handiwork." With that the little sculpture turned one last time to his new, larger counterpart and said, "Get it straight, Sammy, you're not the main attraction. Your job is to point to the one who is. The one who made you, He deserves the glory. You are His workmanship and not your own." Down the street at the Metropolitan Art Gallery, a similar conversation was taking place. Two pieces of beautiful art were being shown by a famous artist. The two paintings were arguing over which of the two was the most beautiful. "I am," said Larry Landscape, "Look at the depth of colors in the ocean and in the sky. I am so proud of my sky. You just have people and places on your canvas. No one wants to look at those." Freddy Familypic responded, "It doesn't matter what's painted on me. I'm just a piece of canvas. What I become will totally depend on whether or not people who see me like what my creator did. I'm not to be praised. Just wait till the crowd arrives. You'll see." And of course, they did. And no, I know paintings and sculptures don't talk. But people do. And people forget, don't they, that they are no more the work of art to be recognized and applauded than those twisted pieces of steel or those delicately crafted works of painted art. The praise belongs to the one whose workmanship they are. The one who designed, sculpted, painted; these are the ones to be praised. They did it all. The canvas didn't reach out and grab a little paint and say, "Try it here". The metal didn't twist and turn on its own and say, "This will look better." It all began in the creator's mind and ended with the creator's hands. And until we as Christians come to understand that concept totally, we will miss the essence of grace just as sure as those works of art missed it. We are His workmanship, beloved, and nothing else. And praise God, for anything less than that would only be worthy of the junkheap of life. Anything less than His handiwork; His workmanship, will never make it into the museum of eternity nor draw the praise of men to the real Creator, our Creator God. By Russel KelferSubmitted by Richard