Lives in the pew. Spools of Different colors, sizes,ages,textures…..individual,unique.
Each a different destiny each hearing a different sermon…..individual,unique.
Some have their lives, or should, young hardly used;some the thread is almost gone,not much of life left…..individual, unique.
Dwelling now in unfocused survival, His cross overshadowed the sermon. Our fine colors mattered little, can we see past?
Yeild to the Taylor we are spun, spinning his purpose,yet we cling to the spool,survival. If only we let go.
Whirling spinning out of our control then we can be made into the tapestry.
As the spools empty you’ll find enscripted, …..with Christ forever