What happens to the half used little broken piece of a crayon. It seems the life span is the point and the rear end. Once you start stipping the paper, it is time to throw away and replace with a new sharper crayon.
Somewhere there is a grayish paper with some stark black lines begging to be filled with color. There is a little hand, bored wishing it could hold an aqua-marine or magenta crayon. Even if it was a little piece to fill the boring page with life and zest.
God wants to take the trash of yesterday and the boreing future, and splash them together with the glory of today.
Who cares how sharp the crayon, does it still have color? Who cares what tomorrow holds, it is the tapestry of life. Will you allow God to mix it and make it colorful?
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