I am lost, hidden among a million others like myself, drowning in the water that covers us. Only a few years ago I was part of something great. I had not thought of myself as, well, as myself. We had been the Baultam Cliff. Armies had fought on our sides, victors had climbed to our peak, kings had been birthed at our feet.
Now I am alone. I have been torn away. My sides are jagged and raw. I am bereft of my kin.
Water tumbles over me. I am caught by the current, scraped against others like me. Scars are gouged deep into my surface.
Is this what I have been created for? I hardly think so. My destiny has been ruined. I call out to my Creator, but only the roar of the falls answers.
Time passes. Perhaps years. Perhaps millennia. My sides are smooth. I am doomed to waste slowly away, becoming nothing more than silt that lines the river.
Things are changing around me. At times red drifts through the current. Creation groans.
A hand breaks the surface of the water. It brushes against me. It hesitates. Then fingers wrap around me, lifting me, holding me. Water falls from me and air touches me. I feel odd.
I am dropped into a cloth bag and clank against others of my kind. We are jolted.
A voice rings out, near and strong. “I come to you in the name of the LORD Almighty, the God of the armies of Israel! This day will I smite you. All shall know that the battle is the LORD’s.”
My being leaps. I know this name, this Creator of mine.
The hand finds me once again, and I am wrapped in leather. Wind rushes by me and gravity fights me.
Now I soar high above the earth. An enemy rises in the distance, coming ever nearer. I am aware of one thing.
I was created for this moment. This is my purpose.
I Samuel 17:45-47
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