The Author's Allegory

Before we took our first breath, before we even had a name, God knew us. He formed us with purpose, with intention, and with a story written into the very fabric of our being.

We are all called to be authors and storytellers—not just of books, but reflections of the divine narrative woven into our souls. Maybe this explains why so many people desire to write a book, to create something eternal, to make see their ideas manifest into creation. Deep down we know we were meant to create, to shape, to tell the greatest story of all.

But somewhere along the way, we forget. We lose sight of the original vision. Yet our stories are continually unfolding. Even when the story takes a drastic twist the Master Author is still at work, helping the rough draft turn into a masterpiece.

This allegory is an invitation to remember—you are both the story and the author. Your life is not random. You were created with intention. Embrace being the main character and step fully into the story you were always meant to write.

The Author

One evening, as the sun rested on the horizon, Man found himself standing before the Author. The Author sat at a grand table, upon which lay an ancient book, its pages alive with an unseen energy, present as though they breathed.

Man, weary with questions and disillusioned by the confusion of life, approached hesitantly.

The Author beckoned him closer and opened the book.

The Outline

"Tell me, Man," the Author began, his voice deep yet peaceful, "what do you see?"

Man leaned in, scanning the inked pages. Stories leaped from the words—some familiar, some distant, all woven with moments he knew as his own. He saw his laughter as a child, the sting of betrayal, the crossroads where uncertainty had clouded his judgment. Some pages shimmered with triumph; others bore the weight of sorrow.

But as he flipped further, his brow furrowed. He found blank spaces, unwritten lines, places where the text seemed unfinished.

"This is my life," Man whispered in astonishment. "But… some of it seems empty."

The Author nodded. "Yes. For I wrote the outline with you before your life began. You are both the manuscript and the writer. Every choice, every step, every revelation—each one determines how the story unfolds."

The Rough Draft

Man swallowed, his throat dry. "But why leave it incomplete? If you are the Author, why not write the whole book so I can follow it exactly?"

The Author’s eyes gleamed with knowing. "Because a story pre-written without the freedom to be lived is no story at all—it is a cage. I gave you free will, not as an obstacle, but as a gift. You are meant to write your own lines, to shape the narrative within the structure I designed. The outline remains, the foundation we built is unshakable, but the journey is yours to experience."

Man turned another page, his fingers brushing over sections where the ink had faded and been rewritten. Some lines were crossed out, but never erased. Others bore layers of revision, as though written over many times.

"What are these?" he asked.

The Author traced the words with his fingertips, his touch gentle. "Edits. Rewrites. The places where you learned, where you chose differently, where you grew into who you were meant to be." He tapped the page. "Every great story undergoes revision. The rough draft is never the final draft. But you must be willing to let go of what no longer serves the masterpiece."

The Editing

Man exhaled shakily. "And what happens when I veer off course? When I write something unaligned with the story we designed, when I forget the outline?"

The Author closed the book gently, his expression kind. "Then I, like any loving Author, guide you back. Not by force, but by revealing the truth you had forgotten. I leave foreshadowing, I whisper wisdom, I insert characters in your path who remind you of the story’s purpose. I do not erase what has been written, but I show you how to redeem it."

Man’s eyes widened as memories surfaced—an old friend’s advice at just the right moment, a book that fell into his hands when he needed it most, a dream that whispered a forgotten truth.

"You were there all along," he murmured, realization dawning.

The Author smiled. "Always."

The Divine Manuscript

Man glanced at the open pages before him. There, in his own hands, was the weight of his existence—the story still unfolding, the choices still his to make.

With newfound clarity, he lifted the pen.

And as he touched it to the page, the book shimmered, welcoming the ink yet to come.

For he was no longer just a character in the story—he was its co-author.

"I knew you before I formed you in your mother’s womb. Before you were born I set you apart and appointed you as my prophet to the nations."

Jeremiah 1:5 (NLT)

Are you aligned with the divine outline? What does your next chapter look like?

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