The White Stone

The rock was white and smooth, feeling good in her hand. She’d had it for about a week. Several times she’d put it in a small bowl on her desk. It was where she kept the special things that mattered; tokens of a new life. Before leaving the house, she found herself slipping it into her pocket. Later in conversations, she’d secret it into her palm, pondering at its meaning.

Rev 2:17 “He who has an ear, let him hear what the Spirit says to the churches. To him who overcomes I will give some of the hidden manna to eat. And I will give him a white stone, and on the stone a new name written which no one knows except him who receives it.”

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