An Open Book

With black stained fingers the scribe sits with his quill sharpened and freshly inked. He is waiting patiently for the words of the Author. The stained glass windows reflect a palette of many colors upon the vellum pages as he waits while the Author gathers his thoughts. Dust motes dance across the slanted beam of light. Finally the Author speaks his voice melodic and clear. My child I see your form; I knew you before you were born. With a flourish of his quill the scribe transcribes what he hears across the page as the Author continues, Your name is not only written on the front of this book but it is etched on the palm of my hand. Twisting his head, the scribe attempts to see the name on the Author s hand. Gouged scars mark the sinews of his Masters palm and yet imprinted is a name so clear. With a finger to his lips, the Master indicates that the scribe is not to speak the name out loud. Not yet, he said, until the book is done. With skill the scribe gives form and beauty to the life-giving words of the Author; I shaped you and you are breathtaking. No other sound is heard but the voice of the One who is also known as Maker. I have sculpted you from nothing into something beautiful. The vellum pages begin to be filled with vivid illustrations from the Author s palette of many colors as the scribe expresses the beauty of the words. Rich blues and deep reds are outlined in gold and silver leaf. Your life to me is like this open book as I ve watched you grow from conception to death; all the stages of your life are spread before me. In wonder the scribe looks at the pages that have been written, chapters of a life not even born. A script, yet unpublished. Cooling shadows begin to fall as night softly creeps across this ancient land. The book is closed, its pages full. A gold clasp, shaped like a cross, firmly holds this masterpiece in place. In the quietness of the moment time stands still as the Author whispers the name to the scribe. He stretches out his nail gouged hand showing the scribe the letters of that name within the scars. Dear Reader, does your heart long to know the name that is engraved on that book so long ago? It is yours. The days of your life have been prepared before you had even taken breath. The Author knows what is ahead in every chapter of your life. Your name is etched in blood on the palm of his hand. This book is a masterpiece yet unread but not unknown. Based on Psalm 139:13-16 (The Message) Oh yes, you shaped me first inside, then out; you formed me in my mother's womb. I thank you, High God you're breathtaking! Body and soul, I am marvelously made! I worship in adoration what a creation! You know me inside and out, you know every bone in my body; You know exactly how I was made, bit by bit, how I was sculpted from nothing into something. Like an open book, you watched me grow from conception to birth; all the stages of my life were spread out before you, The days of my life all prepared before I'd even lived one day.

Do not include honorifics.

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