Chess Pieces

(July 16, 2020)

Are we just chess pieces to the Heavenly Beings?

A game between God and Satan over who will win? And who will get the most glory? 

I am a pawn, and you, the bishop. I run into you, we speak, you say something quite profound, but expected, which makes me switch directions or jump to another square, and you likewise. 

Is life made up of different pointless encounters? Encounters that only matter in relation to the Almighty in order to bring about his victory, but in relation to us, mean and matter very little?

Has my value been forgotten, or did it ever actually exist outside of someone else’s victorious purposes? Am I valued because I was created to move from this square to that, in order to help bring the match to a fine conclusion? But once used or destroyed, taken off the board and placed back in the box to either never be played again or to be used for another's purposes?

And do I look any different from that of the other pawns? Or am I just one in the number of cheap wood pieces that sit and move within the confines and rules of the game? I am made of dust, after all.  

I wonder, above all, if I am cared for. Or if I am loved. 

I resolved to make my conclusions until a response from outside invaded my dialogue. It pierced through each and every question, straight and clear. It prevailed over all other thoughts, as a sword slaying all in its way.

“A Chess player does not die for his chess pieces.”

And there was the answer to my questions. This thought was not of me. It was an answer from the Almighty.