a Love Story – the Vessel – February 21
a LOVE STORY
February 21, 2021
the Vessel
Colossians 3:12-14, ‘So, chosen by God for this new life of love, dress in the wardrobe God picked out for you: compassion, kindness, humility. Quiet strength, discipline. Be even-tempered, content with second place, quick to forgive an offense. Forgive as quickly and completely as the Master forgave you. And regardless of what else you put on, wear love. It’s your basic, all-purpose garment. Never be without it (MSG).’
I sat on a shelf in that workshop and watched the Son rise and set, day after day. I eagerly awaited when the Potter would return. It had been very quiet, too uneventful.
The Son would stream through the dusty panes and dustmites would float through the air, sometimes making war with one another in their mission to mingle. One pane had shattered long ago, and the broken pieces in this pane refracted the Son in a myriad of colors. Its brokenness with the Son shining through it was exquisite. I looked in the old-fashioned mirror lining the backdrop of the scarred workbench, enjoying my beauty. Useless, almost, it seemed, a twinge guiltily stole my breath. An iridescent rainbow, bright and cheery, twinkled like a shy girl from the fragmented glass. I had been waiting for a long time.
Night would fall in that shop and I’d stroke my porcelain face, muffling a yawn. The sounds of the day would fade into silence, sometimes being the noisiest sound I knew. I remembered now how annoyed I used to feel at the invasive scrutiny from the Potter as He worked me through and through. Would He ever be satisfied, I grumbled. The process had been painful, I now recalled, wishing He would be done with it already, as the wheel whirred beneath me and His hands formed and fashioned and molded.
But this…this aloneness; what did it mean? Where had He gone and when would He return…would He return, rather? What was the purpose in this? I think I liked it better when He was busy with me, attentive, at work. I glanced at the imperfect pieces of the window and thought how beautiful broken could be. I had striven for flawless but the fractured glass whispered a splendid story.
A sound swallowed the silence followed by the scratch of the wooden door across a dirt-smitten floor. I felt Him before I saw Him as slowly I watched love swing on a hinge of grace. He shuffled toward me, his back bent by years of living, imagining, forging. “There you are, My beauty,” He remarked with so much love and wonder, His feet like a deck of cards. Immediately, I felt like a prom queen. “Right where I placed you!” He added. “Have I an assignment for you!”
I must have beamed, a glimmer hit the backsplash and echoed through the wooden room. The most gentle hands, gnarled by time, lifted me as if I were pottery, holding me up to the light. I felt His breath upon my neck. He eyed me cautiously and I held a gasp in my throat. His weathered hand grazed me carefully and then He looked deep inside of me to a place I could not see. “Ahh; there it is!” He whispered. “I knew I left My mark on you, a blemish, only known by Me,” astonishingly, He said with pride. He seemed so pleased but then He grew quiet.
“Why?” the question ate the gasp I held and lingered in the space between us, “would you want me flawed?” The question hurt to ask as I lowered my eyes in shame.
“Oh, it is not a defect that will ever be known by anyone other than you and Me. And then by those who can identify with you. Like a scar, a blemish tells a story; a story of how you became, the pain in the process that achieved the perfection. It is a badge and you will wear with honor. It will set you apart, My beauty, from all other pieces I have made.”
I tried to look inside myself so I could see what He saw but I could not. I heard my sigh, deep and intense. Then He spoke again, His voice like a gentle breeze, “But most importantly, My pet, it is to keep you humble, so you will always know your great overwhelming need for Me. Trust Me,” He promised, “This is love.”
During the month of February,
come with me as we JOURNEY through
the greatest LOVE STORY ever written.
