I once thought that archaeologists...
Illustration
I once thought that archaeologists were a strange lot. How much joy can there be in finding an empty pot, let alone a potchard. They piece the remnants together with full knowledge that they will never again be restored to their original function. Their days of carrying water, grain, or even the remains of the deceased are over. The contents have long turned to ash and have been crushed by later generations.
Yet today those artifacts are the very key to understanding history, culture, and lifestyle of our forefathers. Pots that have been fashioned for a purpose, a time, and a people will be emptied a thousand times and, perhaps even in their death, be given a new function.
Are our lives less than pots? The fact that God daily regenerates us for newness of life reminds me of the seashell of magnificent beauty. It was the home of a living animal, but never seen in the depth of the sea. Today it has been polished and sealed to serve as a soap dish in a modern home where it has captured the admiration of many.
Yet today those artifacts are the very key to understanding history, culture, and lifestyle of our forefathers. Pots that have been fashioned for a purpose, a time, and a people will be emptied a thousand times and, perhaps even in their death, be given a new function.
Are our lives less than pots? The fact that God daily regenerates us for newness of life reminds me of the seashell of magnificent beauty. It was the home of a living animal, but never seen in the depth of the sea. Today it has been polished and sealed to serve as a soap dish in a modern home where it has captured the admiration of many.
