The modern pencil was invented in 1795 by Nicholas-Jacques Conte. Those of us who grew up thinking the black in the middle of a pencil was lead, at least until we discovered the dangers of that material, are wrong. It has always been graphite, one of the softest minerals there is. Graphite itself was discovered in Bavaria in the early 1400s, but centuries earlier the Aztecs had used it in chunks to write with. It took this French scientist, who was serving with Napoleon's army, to construct the first wood-enclosed stick of graphite we call a pencil.
Erasers were invented after Charles Goodyear invented the process called the vulcanization of rubber. And finally, on March 30, 1858, Hymen Lipman received the first patent for attaching an eraser to the end of a pencil. Another piece of trivia for you: the metal piece holding that eraser is called a ferrule.
This morning I brought four pencils in here by the desk to sharpen. I gather them up from here and there, all colors, all brands. Ticonderoga yellow may be the most famous brand, but I haven't a one of those to my name. The erasers are all in different levels of use. A couple already sport one of those separate ones you put on the top because the one they came with is totally flat.
So I will grab my old fashioned school sharpener, the one with the hand crank, and get them all back to their pointy selves and ready for use. Then I will carry them back to the windowsill next to my chair to use with my crossword puzzles. No, I do not do my puzzles in ink. Well, if it's a Los Angeles Times Crossword, even their Sunday crossword, I do. But a New York Times Crossword—no way. It will wind up a mess if I try.
The Los Angeles Times Sunday Crossword is so easy I can do it in ink in just about 15 minutes. Once in a great while it will take 20. I might have one or two squares where I have had to go over a mistake in darker ink to correct it, but most of the time it is clean and legible, without a single blotch. But the New York Times' puzzle takes me nearly an hour and quite a bit of erasing. If I tried it in ink, I probably wouldn't be able to read it for the mess I made. I may love to do those puzzles, but I am not an expert by any stretch of the imagination. You know those people who finish the marathon three hours after everyone else, coming in while the banners and signs are being taken down? That's me doing a New York Times Sunday Crossword. All I can say is, I get it done. And hurray for pencils and, especially, erasers.
Jesus is my pencil and God is my eraser.
The Lord's sacrifice is far larger than we usually give him credit for. Not to diminish it in the least, but he didn't just die for us and rise from the dead for us, a process that took no more than three days. He lived a lifetime for us as a human being, experiencing the same trials and sorrows we do. God, mind you--and he did it without the failings we so often want to excuse because we are "only human." When we do that, we insult that sacrifice, because he became human and made himself susceptible to sin so he could show us how, to demonstrate that we most certainly can do it, especially with his example and his help—or will we insult those, too?
No, life is not a Los Angeles Times Crossword puzzle. God never told us it would be easy. He promised us "thorns and thistles" and "sweat of the brow." He said we would have to kill our old man (crucify it) and become something brand new. He may have said, "My yoke is easy and my burden is light," but it's still a yoke and a burden.
But then he tells me that all is not lost if I do fail. After all, this life is written in pencil if we just repent, get back on our feet, and try again, determined to go farther than the last time, determined to improve—not to make excuses. If we are not using the pencil the Lord gave us, is it because we have just given up? Have we lost our confidence and just decided to do nothing at all so we won't make a mistake? Have we lost our trust in the eraser God uses, the one that will erase that error like it never happened, leaving clean, white paper without even a smudge, ready for the next attempt? And with his help, we might even get the right answer the next time.
When we refuse to try, when we make excuses for our failure and refuse to admit our wrong, that's when we are writing in ink. We can go over it and over it and over it, making it darker and uglier with every try, and everyone will still see the obvious error. Maybe everyone but the one who needs to see the truth the most--me. And it can never be erased, if that is the attitude we have.
Far better to follow the Lord's example. Far better to be tough and work hard and try again and again and again. Pencil is, after all, easily erased.
If we say we have fellowship with him while we walk in darkness, we lie and do not practice the truth. But if we walk in the light, as he is in the light, we have fellowship with one another, and the blood of Jesus his Son cleanses us from all sin. (1John 1:6-7).
Dene Ward
Erasers were invented after Charles Goodyear invented the process called the vulcanization of rubber. And finally, on March 30, 1858, Hymen Lipman received the first patent for attaching an eraser to the end of a pencil. Another piece of trivia for you: the metal piece holding that eraser is called a ferrule.
This morning I brought four pencils in here by the desk to sharpen. I gather them up from here and there, all colors, all brands. Ticonderoga yellow may be the most famous brand, but I haven't a one of those to my name. The erasers are all in different levels of use. A couple already sport one of those separate ones you put on the top because the one they came with is totally flat.
So I will grab my old fashioned school sharpener, the one with the hand crank, and get them all back to their pointy selves and ready for use. Then I will carry them back to the windowsill next to my chair to use with my crossword puzzles. No, I do not do my puzzles in ink. Well, if it's a Los Angeles Times Crossword, even their Sunday crossword, I do. But a New York Times Crossword—no way. It will wind up a mess if I try.
The Los Angeles Times Sunday Crossword is so easy I can do it in ink in just about 15 minutes. Once in a great while it will take 20. I might have one or two squares where I have had to go over a mistake in darker ink to correct it, but most of the time it is clean and legible, without a single blotch. But the New York Times' puzzle takes me nearly an hour and quite a bit of erasing. If I tried it in ink, I probably wouldn't be able to read it for the mess I made. I may love to do those puzzles, but I am not an expert by any stretch of the imagination. You know those people who finish the marathon three hours after everyone else, coming in while the banners and signs are being taken down? That's me doing a New York Times Sunday Crossword. All I can say is, I get it done. And hurray for pencils and, especially, erasers.
Jesus is my pencil and God is my eraser.
The Lord's sacrifice is far larger than we usually give him credit for. Not to diminish it in the least, but he didn't just die for us and rise from the dead for us, a process that took no more than three days. He lived a lifetime for us as a human being, experiencing the same trials and sorrows we do. God, mind you--and he did it without the failings we so often want to excuse because we are "only human." When we do that, we insult that sacrifice, because he became human and made himself susceptible to sin so he could show us how, to demonstrate that we most certainly can do it, especially with his example and his help—or will we insult those, too?
No, life is not a Los Angeles Times Crossword puzzle. God never told us it would be easy. He promised us "thorns and thistles" and "sweat of the brow." He said we would have to kill our old man (crucify it) and become something brand new. He may have said, "My yoke is easy and my burden is light," but it's still a yoke and a burden.
But then he tells me that all is not lost if I do fail. After all, this life is written in pencil if we just repent, get back on our feet, and try again, determined to go farther than the last time, determined to improve—not to make excuses. If we are not using the pencil the Lord gave us, is it because we have just given up? Have we lost our confidence and just decided to do nothing at all so we won't make a mistake? Have we lost our trust in the eraser God uses, the one that will erase that error like it never happened, leaving clean, white paper without even a smudge, ready for the next attempt? And with his help, we might even get the right answer the next time.
When we refuse to try, when we make excuses for our failure and refuse to admit our wrong, that's when we are writing in ink. We can go over it and over it and over it, making it darker and uglier with every try, and everyone will still see the obvious error. Maybe everyone but the one who needs to see the truth the most--me. And it can never be erased, if that is the attitude we have.
Far better to follow the Lord's example. Far better to be tough and work hard and try again and again and again. Pencil is, after all, easily erased.
If we say we have fellowship with him while we walk in darkness, we lie and do not practice the truth. But if we walk in the light, as he is in the light, we have fellowship with one another, and the blood of Jesus his Son cleanses us from all sin. (1John 1:6-7).
Dene Ward
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