A pair of hands, strong and capable,
but skilled in the delicate and fine, deposits a mound of wet clay on the
turntable. For now, it is just a lump,
gray and formless. Muddy drops of water
fall to the floor. As yet, it is
ugly. But in the artist’s eyes,
something beautiful can be seen. Slowly,
patiently, the hands begin to shape the clay.
Out of that formless lump a vessel emerges, tall and graceful. The process is hard to follow from the
outside, seeming to emerge by magic, because it is in the artist’s vision,
soul, and skillful hands that this vessel is brought to life.
In the scriptures, we are these
earthenware vessels, these jars of clay.
We are born and shaped in the eyes of God, the artist. But we are fragile, easily chipped, cracked,
and even shattered. As jars, we can no
longer hold water. But what we carry
inside our imperfect selves is not water, but light; the light of God’s love,
the light of His Gospel. Through our
cracks, around our chips, even from our shattered pieces, that light shines out
into this world of darkness. Our value
is no longer what we hold within, but rather what was hidden within now flows
and floods out of us. That light within
us is like holy water, that douses the thirst of sorrow, anger, hate, and
despair. It is only when it is allowed
to flow freely that it delivers the blessing.
Take stock not of our imperfections, of
what we think we can no longer do. But
rather, what we are able to do, and commanded to do, as keepers of the light of
God.
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