WHAT AM I WORTH?

I recently read this article below on the internet and thought to myself that it aptly describes the difference that the presence of God has made in my life in the year 2009. But for God, I can't begin to imagine where I would have been today. I just can't fathom how people without Christ survive on a daily basis in the Country. It's tough enough when you have the backing of the King of Kings, not to mention if your trust is in man or worse still if you're totally on your own. I'm so grateful for the touch of the Master's hand upon my life.

The Article:

Myra was a woman battered and scarred from severe arthritis. Her legs were held captive in a wheelchair, but her soul was forever free. With one pencil in each crippled hand, she used the erasers to type words on her typewriter. The joy of her efforts in typing the words outweighed the pain of creating them.

One day, when a friend was leaving Myra's home, she patted her wheelchair and said, "And I thank God for this!" Prior to her wheelchair days, Myra's talent had been hidden like a treasure in the sand. But after the crippling affect of arthritis confined her, the talent locked away freed her. God used one of her most precious poems to show me our incredible worth.

The Touch of the Master's Hand

It was 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 grey haired 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 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 Master's Hand."

And many a man with life out of tune,

All battered with bourbon and gin,

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 gong 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 Master's Hand

- Myra Brooks Welch