A classic poem, The Weaver, written by Benjamin M. Franklin and quoted frequently by Corrie ten Boom speaks to the age-old quandry of contentment amidst uncertainty…
My life is just a weaving
Between my Lord and me.
I cannot change the color
For He works most steadily.
Oft times He weaves the sorrow
And I in foolish pride
Forget He sees the upper
And I the underside.
Until the loom is silent
And the shuttle cease to fly,
Will God roll back the canvas
And explain the reason why.
The dark threads are as needful
In the skillful Weaver’s Hand
As the golden threads of silver
He has patterned in His Plan.
God weaves. God alone. Soli Deo. The tapestry is most oft times beyond my comprehension.
I treasure glimpses of the upperside that I am allowed to view. It is a lengthy journey and I continue to learn. I find that less and less frequently do I demand explanation for God’s action and inaction.
Yet … I still have much to learn. I occasionally feel the need to lend a “helping” hand with the weave. When threads look messy and loose ends hang down, I begin to tie them up. My longing for order and explanation fuels my efforts to tidy up the underside.
But, alas, this disrupts God’s upperside plan.
The Lord’s design is perfect, regardless of my impatience and lack of understanding. Ultimately, the Weaver’s pattern prevails.
So I strive to enjoy the weaving as the shuttle goes to and fro. Patience and perseverance gently join me on the path. Meanwhile, hope emerges as I rest in the peace of the tapestry’s underside.