The potter had a clay jar. He loved this clay jar. It was warn and old. It was filled with holes and cracks. It was disfigured and marred and beyond repair. Yet the potter loved this jar. He loved this jar, even though in its present state it was useless to him; it could not serve its purpose. The potter knew what he must do. Though it caused the potter great pain and agony, out of love for the jar, he broke it. He broke it and shattered it to pieces. Despite this, he knew the hardest part was yet to come. He then took new clay and began to shape it. He took fragments of the old pot and worked them into the new clay. Knowing the pain that was to come, he brought the mixture of old and new clay over to the wheel. The wheel spun to life and the potter began shaping the clay with his hands. The fragments and jagged edges of the old pot cut into the potter's hands, causing his blood to flow over the new pot being formed. Though the pain was intense, the potter continued his work, for he loved the pot he was forming out of the fragments of the old jar. So great was the potters love that he did not stop until the new pot was formed exactly how he wanted it. Satisfied with his work, the potter lit up the kiln to and placed the new pot into the fire to burn. After being fired under intense heat, the new jar was ready. The potter took the new jar out of the fire to cool. At last, the jar could be used to serve its purpose, and serve it well. For this new jar, because of the fragments from the old jar, is twice as strong as the old.
Sometimes I feel like that old jar. Worn and old, marred and filled with cracks and holes. It reminds me of my life, how it can become so messed up, jagged, wretched and torn. It reminds me of what I become, because of my sin. Sometimes I feel so messed up. I have knowledge of the scriptures, but it does not travel from my head to my heart. I sometimes feel that if I am not happy, then I must be doing something wrong. I can become angry easily over petty little things. I lust after woman, even though they are my sisters in Christ. I loose my focus on God and chase temporal things. The things I want to do, I do not do; and the very things I don't want to do, I do. I cry out as Paul cries out in Romans 7:24, "What a wretched man I am! Who will rescue me from this body that is subject to death?"
I confess my sins to God. I confess that I do not want to live my life this way. I confess that I do not have the power to change myself, to clean up my own life. I ask the Lord for change. I ask the Lord that He would make me new. I ask the Lord that he would break me and mold me, and make me into a new creation.
Brokenness. It is not a pleasant experience. It brings you to your knees in tears before a holy God. In those moments, you come to fully grasp just how weak, fragile, frail you are. But it is also in those moments where you come to fully experience just how vast, infinite, unconditional God's love is for you. It is Christ's blood that covers the crimson stains of your sin; cleanses you and makes you into a new creation. You don't have to clean up your own life before coming to him; he is the one who changes your life. Brokenness. It is not a pleasant experience, but a beautiful one.
The fire. Clay does not become pottery until it is placed in the fire. The fire removes the impurities. It binds the elements together; makes them stronger. The trials, the tests, the tribulations we face in life have a similar purpose. They bring to light our hidden faults. They show us how weak and frail we are. But through the trails, if we submit ourselves to God and allow him to work in our lives, if we surrender ourselves to him and ask for his strength, if we fully trust and treasure him, then these trials, these tests, these tribulations will make us stronger.
I love the imagery of the potter and the clay. It reminds me of my sin and imperfections. It reminds me to seek brokenness; that my old life would be broken down to be build into something new. It reminds me how it is by the blood of Jesus through what he did for me on the cross that I am cleansed and made new. It reminds me that there is purpose in the fires, trails, tribulations of life, and that I will ultimately be stronger because of them.
Father, break me and mold me. Make me into a new creation that I may be used for your purposes and for your glory. Father, I confess my sins to you. I know that I am not perfect. My sins are always before you; they are not hidden from your sight. You know my hidden faults. You foreknew every sin that I would ever commit even before I was born; but yet despite this, you still love me. Your love for me is not something I can fully grasp or understand. I do not understand how you could love a sinner like me, but you do. What amazing love! Thank you father! There is truly none like you in all creation. You are the potter. I am the clay. Mold me and make me. Amen.
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