The mouse continued to search beyond the ceder trees, “I can only be a mouse, nothing more.”
He turned his thoughts toward the alter he slept under every night, “…and absurd to think a mouse would place wood in such high regard as to never chew it for his own betterment?
Soon that alter will dissolve and God will be no more, but my comfort is needed now. Before it was God, it was a ceder tree cut down by the villagers.
Yes, I have decided, I will chew that alter and create space and safety for myself, perhaps even attracting a mate.
No God should be worshiped if He’s not useful or cannot return a practical purpose. If God doesn’t provide, He is no God at all.
So, it is decided, I will consume the alter, consume my God and make room and comfort, perhaps even attracting a mate.”
He considered the artist’s need for a brush and sacrificing himself to provide this need, then defiantly spoke again, “I am just a mouse, nothing more, I cannot save a village.
My sacrifice would be senseless, simply for the pittance of a crumb?”
The mouse returned to the church and immediately chewed through the alter.
And what has been said by many had become true in that moment: ‘The best gifts are behind the greatest monsters,’ because not long after the mouse began to chew,
he found inside the alter the trimmings of gold and silver flakes undiscovered by any looting villagers.