Plunk. Plink. Clink.

Millions of glistening drops fall from a sky pregnant with life and hope. These million particles of a bigger thing fall into the broken dirt, disappear into deep basins with faces reflecting the sky above them, or dance on the tops of rusty cans for a brief flicker of time.

Life-giving. Hope-filled.

These pieces of liquid freely fall from the hands of their Creator. He tosses them from his majestic hand like rice on a wedding day. He blows on them and they change form and gently fall in flakes of intricate detail. Or they hit the earth as ice in myriads of shapes and sizes. Or they are gently kissed before being released as condensation.

They are the creation. Not the Creator. He chooses what they look like, what their purpose will be. It is not up to them to choose what form they want to take in their descent from the lofty, cotton candy puffs of clouds. Nor do they get to decide where they will land. Or if their drops will even make a difference for anything.

Trust. Sacrifice. Honor.

He must increase. All else must quietly fade and disappear in the presence of King Jesus.

What of this life? Isn’t it just a mist that dances on the line between heaven and earth, only to quietly slip away and be no more? Isn’t it just a breath that eventually ceases to be? Just a life that gracefully bows one last time, before the falling of the curtains. A sprinkle of light pointing to the Source. Just a cracked pot that holds a Treasure of infinite worth for a fraction of earthly time, to one day return to its Maker.

Jesus decides the beginning. Jesus chooses the ending. Jesus sustains the middle. All is Jesus.

Our lives are up to him. He picks his characters for his stories. And he will have his ending—whether we betray him, abandon him, rebel against him, or run after our own ending. The ending is also still his, if we follow him, love him, go deep with him, and choose him—again and again. He introduces his characters and he will bring his characters to their appointed ending in his great, awesome story.

These characters may play roles as small as a drop in a bucket—seemingly insignificant and silent. They may be thrown into life to create a beautiful scrap of music. Much like a pinch of rain dancing on a rusty soup can—beauty for just a moment. They may be characters that fall into the cracks of the earth and produce a harvest of infinite worth—worshipers to gather around the throne of the King. They may also be characters that disappear in a sea of other characters—combining their gifts and laying their lives down to just fade into the masses of people wholeheartedly pursuing the all-consuming gospel of Jesus.

Oh, Jesus, may we be faithful, trusting, sacrificing characters in your infinitely precious, beautiful, eternal Story! Jesus may we love you, honor you, and choose you above all else! Father God, would we feel your delight in us when you toss us up like the children we are and swing us into the brilliant rainbow of your smile? And would we also feel your love when you kiss our noses and blow us into the valley of death and darkness?

King Jesus, would your all-conquering, all-consuming power and beauty increase in our lives and hearts, leading us to leave everything at your feet and follow you. Oh, Jesus, would you make us willing drops in your great hand?