The Old Violin

Recently, I was told by a pastor who shared this story about an old violin. He reminded me of why we worship God as he tells us to see worship as "worth-ship". Whenever we worship God, we are expressing His worth.

 

 

How about our worth? Many students I encounter do not see their worth. When I used to teach and talk to students, I tell them how smart and good they can be and they always brush it off by saying words like, "cannot or impossible." What saddens me most is when people don't see how much they are worth.

 

 

God didn't create us just for us to feel lousy about ourselves. In my opinion, that shows you are self-centred. However, when we look up, give thanks for this life He has given us and know that you are justified by the blood of Christ and not by your good behaviour, the perspective changes and you won't start to think about how lousy you are etc etc.

 

It is not what you do, it is all about what Christ has already done on the cross for us. His work is finished on the cross and because of that, we have unlimited resources in heaven! We do not know the worth of our life until you allow the Master to use you and play it!

 

Enjoy this poem!



 

'Twas battered and scarred,
And the auctioneer thought it
hardly worth his while
To waste his time on the old violin,
but he held it up with a smile.

"What am I bid, good people", he cried,
"Who starts the bidding for me?"
"One dollar, one dollar, Do I hear two?"
"Two dollars, who makes it three?"
"Three dollars once, three dollars twice, going for three,"

But, No,
From the room far back a gray bearded man
Came forward and picked up the bow,
Then wiping the dust from the old violin
And tightening up the strings,
He played a melody, pure and sweet
As sweet as the angel sings.

The music ceased and the auctioneer
With a voice that was quiet and low,
Said "What now am I bid for this old violin?"
As he held it aloft with its' bow.

"One thousand, one thousand, Do I hear two?"
"Two thousand, Who makes it three?"
"Three thousand once, three thousand twice,
Going and gone", said he.

The audience cheered,
But some of them cried,
"We just don't understand."
"What changed its' worth?"
Swift came the reply.
"The Touch of the Masters Hand."

"And many a man with life out of tune
All battered and bruised with hardship
Is auctioned cheap to a thoughtless crowd
Much like that old violin

A mess of pottage, a glass of wine,
A game and he travels on.
He is going once, he is going twice,
He is going and almost gone.

But the Master comes,
And the foolish crowd never can quite understand,
The worth of a soul and the change that is wrought
By the Touch of the Masters' Hand.

- by Myra Brooks Welch