amjazz has been a member since 2/10/10 and was last logged in on 11/16/13
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"C.s, Lewis told a story of a woman artist who was thrown into a dungeon whose only light came from a barred window high above. In the dungeon the woman gave birth to a son. As he grew, she told him about the outside world, a world of wheat fields and mountain streams and cresting emerald waves crashing on golden shores.*
But the boy couldn't understand her words. So with the drawing pad and pencils she had brought with her into the dungeon, she drew him pictures. At first she thought he understood. But one day while talking with him, she realized he didn't. He thought the outside world was made up of charcoal-gray pencil lines on faded white backgrounds, and concluded that the world outside the dungeon was less than the world inside.*
The story is a parable, showing us in much the same way the artist tried to show her son, that all we see before us are merely pencil sketches of the world beyond us. Every person is a stick-figured image of God; every place of natural beauty, a charcoal rendering of paradise; every pleasure, a flat and faded version of the joy that awaits us. But we need to be boosted to a window before we cn see beyond the lines of our own experience. Only then will we see how big the trees are, how bright the flowers, how breath taking the view.*" Mars Hill Review.*
I hope you can find the encouragement from this story when hope seems to fade. Trusting that the hound of heaven will not cease until perfection.