In the classic
movie, Beauty and the Beast, the Beast presents Belle with a marvelous
library filled with thousands of books. I imagine myself in a library much like
this one—with its ceiling-high shelves filled with books. Some books are worn
and tattered; some are seemingly in perfect condition. Some have pages ripped
out and seem uninviting on first glance while others, with their flashy covers
draw my immediate attention and fill me with excitement. Each book is titled
with a name. I find sections of the library with rows of books with titles such
as Jonathan, Cassandra, and Timothy.
I notice for the
first time that I am not the only one in the library. Others are walking up to
the shelves, removing books, writing in them, and returning them to the
shelves. I pull a few books from the shelves and open them. Stunned and a
little disappointed, I see that they are not finished; each book has only a few
chapters written in it. I look a little further and find a book with my name on
it. It, too, is unfinished. As I read, I can tell from the handwriting and the
style of writing who has been writing in my book. I see pages where my parents,
teachers and friends have written.
After reminiscing
for a while, I realize that I am in the library for a purpose. Just as people
have written in my book, I must write as well. I find a chair with my name on
it and a stack of books sitting on an end table next to it. Those are the books
that have been entrusted into my care. But how do I know what to write? Well, first,
I need to know what the story is about. I begin to read. I realize that the
more I read from each book, the more I understand what is important for each
story. I cannot write a single chapter and copy and paste into several different
books. It isn’t that simple. What is right for one book is not going to make
sense in any of the other books. I am drawn to the good looking books, but as I
open the less than beautiful books, I am amazed to discover the stories of
courage and love inside. These teach me almost more than the books I am
initially drawn to.
I pick up my pen
to write and come to another roadblock. How do I know where these stories are
going? What is supposed to happen in the end? I have no way of knowing what to
write because I don’t what the purpose of each book is. I realize that I’m not
the author of these books. I simply am writing a chapter for someone else. Who
is the author then? God is the author. He has been trusting people like me to write
in each of his precious books all along. This is His library. I feel the
pressure begin to rise, as I realize that my small amount or writing knowledge
is nothing in comparison to the real author’s skills and knowledge. The thought
that brings me comfort is that if I want to write the right things I need to
ask Him. I need to be in constant communication with God; only He knows the purpose
of the books He writes. He knows what needs to be in each one in order for those
who read them to be influenced and inspired. If I ask Him, I will know what I
need to write.
As I contemplate
this, I notice that people periodically come up and borrow books from my table.
I realize that I’m not the only one who has been given the task of writing in
these books. As I collaborate with those around me, I will be able to
understand even more of what the author has in mind for each book that I am
supposed to write in.
After I have
written what I can, I receive other books at my end table. I will never forget
my experiences with each book however. Every book I have read has influenced me;
I have learned from each. I am who I am because of what I have read and written
in each book. I have developed a relationship with the true author, God, as I
have spoken with Him frequently about His precious books.
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