There once was a prisoner at Dachau, who kept a tiny ceramic frog in his pocket, a silent prayer to God that he not be forgotten.
In later years, he became a woodcarver, producing pocket-sized figures of frogs.
One day, a patron mentioned the frog was a symbol of liberation.
“Oy vey,” the man said. “Is that what I’ve been talking about?”
Artists are notorious for inscribing subtle traces of life’s struggles into the texture of the work — unaware of hidden meaning.
But I am a man of few complaints. Instead, I mumble about discipline, calling, stewardship, covenant, and moral formation over time.
Not explicitly. That would be counter-productive. Fiction is supposed to be entertaining.
Continue reading “A Dilemma in Wearing the Coat of Many Colors”
John Dyer Writes 
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