THE FATE OF SANDCASTLES
by Rubel Shelly There are a couple of children on a beach. Playing. Giggling. Building sandcastles. They seem so intent on the project. You get amused at how meticulous and careful they are with crumbly corners. The looks on their faces – as they screen their mouths around and protrude their tongues in earnest concentration – are priceless. Then a big wave starts to close in! But the kids don’t panic. They do the strangest things. They jump to their feet, scream with excitement, and watch the waves wash away their creation. There is no panic. No sadness. No bitterness. Even children know the inevitable end of sandcastles. They are neither surprised nor angry. You and I should be so wise. The stuff of this world is about as permanent as sandcastles on a beach. Yet we get too caught up in it, defensive of it and depressed over the loss of it. God didn’t create you to be famous,…
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