Previous Challenge Entry (Level 1 – Beginner)
Topic: Craft (as in handcraft) (02/08/07)
TITLE: The Double-Edged Sword
By Carolyn Baney
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Glancing down, he realized he had unknowingly poured the unformed steel into the mold; his hands had a mind of their own. Laughter bubbled out of the deep recesses of his spirit as the artwork took form. Quickly before it cooled and became impregnable, the craftsman etched symbols onto each side, a message only shared by the Master and its bearer. Not even the craftsman knew their true meaning. Settling himself down, he concentrated on the tedious but gratifying job of sharpening. After all, there would be limited value in a dull double-edged sword.
The craftsman sensed the beauty and completeness of a well-formed vehicle, slicing it through the air. It was not yet complete, but that was not for him to perform. For now, his job was finished and satisfaction swelled. “It’s time!” hollered a jubilant voice from the hallway.
“Ah…and right on time, as always, my Lord,” admired the craftsman into the silence around him. He donned his most precious and glorious garb, and placing the sword in its sheath, he conveyed it with honor to the Throne Room. Anticipation thrilled his senses; this was his favorite part. Upon entering the Throne Room, warmth, light, and majesty overtook him as always. Every cell rejoiced in the presence of his Master, who stood on the Throne displaying His own magnificent dress of armor. The craftsman had seen the Master wear various attire for a variety of celebrations, each of them unique to their purpose. Today, he was a warrior.
The craftsman hurried to take his rightful place next to his fellow servants at a table in the back. Resting the sword onto the table, his eyes caroused the other items on the table. Each of them were exclusive yet similar; the Words of the Father cemented them together, being the foundation of all Creation. He couldn’t help but admire their artwork, the fine sturdy leather of the shoes of peace, the vibrant garment stitched with loving threads of truth, the familial Code of Arms blazed into the breastplate, the impenetrable flawlessness of the shield, and of course, the untarnished, glistening helmet of salvation. He shuddered at the last item, remembering the precious price his Master had paid to claim it, but that was past. Today, they celebrated.
Silence overtook the Throne and every corner of the universe, and for the first time, the craftsman’s eyes were drawn to the center of the Throne Room. At the base of the Throne, a miniscule form lay prostrate; her tears bounced off the golden floor, echoing its chime like a single bell piercing through all of Heaven. It struck a cord in the hearts of any who would listen, Heaven or Earth. Finally, the Master spoke, “Stand up my child!”
As she stood, the craftsman noted the woman could not have weighed more than 90 pounds, and her garments were mere rags, yet he knew she was royalty, God’s child. The Master motioned to his servants, and each took they’re turn in the ceremony, removing that which was and replacing it with that which is. By the end, each item on the table adorned the warrior. “Perfection!” thought the craftsman for suddenly it all suited her so well.
At last the Master exclaimed, “Warrior, your struggle is not against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the powers, against the world forces of this darkness, and against the spiritual forces of wickedness in the heavenly places. Behold and take up the full armor of God, so that you will be able to resist in the evil day, and having done everything to stand…stand firm therefore!” All of Heaven released a battle cry in recognition of the new soldier who stood before the Throne. Upon her, the Spirit rested, and the dull steel of the sword caught on fire, a flame that would never be quenched. “It is complete,” whispered the craftsman.
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