Special Thanks to Russ Foster for mentioning this title

There are people who say that any use of the word proud is wrong. I guess because it is wrong to have a boastful, unsubstantial pride in your own abilities. “For I say, through the grace given unto me, to every man that is among you, not to think of himself more highly than he ought to think; but to think soberly, according as God hath dealt to every man the measure of faith.” “Pride goeth before destruction and a haughty spirit before a fall,” but when I use the word as I am about to, I am thinking more of the accomplishments of others and not my own.

The other evening some of the young people from our church were at a restaurant and one of my media assistants had been texting me about something and when they were asked who it was a conversation about me started in which it was stated that this person was my most favorite Sunday School student ever, which elicited comments from others. Everybody was having a good time, at my expense, of course, but it did make me think, how many people’s lives have I touched in some way, positively, or worse, negatively. The negative is a lot harder for me and I won’t address it here in this post, if at all on this blog.

The first class I ever was assigned to was the Junior Class, ages 10 & 11, in, I believe, the summer of 1990. They gave themselves the name, “Warriors of the Lamb” and their theme scripture was, “And they overcame him by the blood of the Lamb, and by the word of their testimony; and they loved not their lives unto the death. ” Revelation 12:11. Out of that class there came at least two preachers and a missionary’s wife that I know of. The one preacher still works in our local assembly as both a preacher and a Sunday School teacher. I got to hear him preach the other night and felt really proud of him and I thought, “I am a part of that!” Obviously, I was not the only influence in his life, that would be impossible, And I know the caliber of the many other people that were there. That’s where the tapestry comes in.

When you get to look at a finely woven tapestry you see a thing of beauty, the product of loving labor by a master craftsman. A professional tapestry weaver working 35 – 40 hours a week takes about a month to make just one square meter. The vertical strands are almost always high-quality wool, attached to a strong, thick beam, then stretched on the loom and are called the woof. This is the backbone of the tapestry. The weft is the part that goes horizontally and where the art comes in. The threads used in the weft can be and usually are many different colors and even many different kinds of materials. Along with wool, there could be silk or even silver and gold threads. The master, the professional craftsman, is an artist.

Handpicking the threads before work ever starts, he begins weaving them in and out of the woof, working and working, switching out colors and materials to match the image in his mind or copying the image he has before him. The planned image slowly emerges as he had imagined it or, in some cases, as he is working along, he may use something different, that fits better. He may take an artful license with it. Occasionally he has to cut it down from the beam, salvage everything he can and start over. Using some colors of threads over and over in many places while other threads are used very sparingly. It really was very amazing to read about this whole process and even more amazing to think about.

Then I think about all of the fine adults I know who have let the Master Craftsman weave me in and out of their lives, adding my uniqueness to them. I look in wonder and amazement and even fear at the hundreds, possibly thousands of children I have known over the last 29 years. I don’t know why the Master chose me. It is a humbling thought and yet when I look at some of the tapestries I have seen, I am proud of the work the Master has done in so many. I didn’t make that preacher, that Sunday School superintendent’s wife, that youth leader, that schoolteacher, that art teacher, that prayer warrior (the list is too long to remember) and my thread is not the only one, far from it. If it were made of all the same color and all the same thread it would probably make a better rug or doormat than beautiful art.

I have seen some beautiful works of art in these tapestries and realize that they are not even finished yet. Some are barely started. And the one thing they all have in common is that they are all different. They are all unique to themselves, beautiful, individual, handcrafted pieces of art. It is impossible to pick a favorite one, but it is possible to love and be proud of each and every one.