Clay In Your Hands

I always thought myself to be mentally and emotionally strong. But I now see a deep vein of fragility running through me, like a hairline crack waiting to bust-open under applied pressure, Lord.
“You are My delicate porcelain treasure, fashioned by My fine workmanship, but you are not frail.” said the Lord.
Pondering His Words, I felt something worrisome inside me. “I am concerned this weakness will cause me to fail and become ineffective in the purposes You have for me, Lord.”
Moving toward me, the Lord placed His hands on my shoulders continuing to comfort me. “I know you feel hard-pressed on every side, but you will not be crushed. I hold you strong by My Power which far exceeds any other authority or force. With Me, all things are possible.”
Staring at the floor with my head lowered, the real fear was rising in my heart when I confessed, “Will I still be pleasing to You, even with this flaw that hinders me?”
“Oh, My love.” Jesus said softly as He lifted my chin, looking into my tear-filled eyes. “I sacrificed Myself so you can be whiter than snow; flawless, blemish free in your spirit.”
Taking both my hands, lightly kissing the back of my right hand, Jesus continued. “I am not finished with you. You are still clay in My hands, an unfinished piece of pottery. I use the fiery trials of this world to add layers of gorgeous detail to your original clay vessel. Each time you are re-fired in the world’s kiln, irreversible changes take place within you, increasing your strength and endurance, softly blended with a meek and quiet spirit.”
Jesus paused, tenderly caressing my palms. “My hands are mighty, but My touch is gentle as I transform you into a vessel of honor crafted for a specific purpose, both beautiful and functional. Do not lose heart, for I am renewing you inwardly day-by-day.”
I was spellbound by the Lord’s gentle but fiery eyes as He concluded with these Words. “You are not a disappointment to Me. You are, in fact, My crowning glory.”
Comforted by 1 Peter 3:4, 5:4; Luke 18:27; 2 Corinthians 4:7, 16-18; Isaiah 64:8; Song of Solomon 4:7; Ephesians 2:10, 5:27; Psalm 51:7; and 2 Samuel 22:33
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It is rare to have one person in your life who will love you in spite of your shortcomings and who will fight to keep your heart from harm. My cup runs over because You blessed me with two people who filled me with such love and acceptance. But in their absence, I am left sitting in a void that leaves me longing for what was. A longing to belong; to be loved and accepted; to be seen and fully known. Who will see me now, Lord?
Today, I have no fight left in my limbs. My energy is spent from fighting these daily battles. I just want to give up and raise my white flag. Continuing to ponder that idea, sitting in my frustration, I wondered what a day with no problems would actually look like.
As I watch the sun break the horizon, quietly announcing its arrival, I wonder what today has to offer. Moving away from the windows, still lost in my thoughts, my words broke the silence, “I sense a change coming, Lord.”
My life feels like an unfinished piece of artwork, Lord. A canvas propped up on its easel, yet set aside: full of potential, but colorless as I wait for the Artisan’s touch.
Some days I feel like Cinderella, imprisoned in a bad story that has me bogged down with labor and dressed in rags. I married my prince, but he is now deteriorating before my eyes.
The snowstorm has caused the atmosphere to become thick in a composition of white, gray, and black; colorless, like the canvas of my soul. Out of nowhere, a beam of light cuts through the clouds, radiating in a spectrum of colors.
This decision is too much for me. Closing my eyes to rest my mind, I soon found myself running down a narrow tree-lined path. Something was chasing me and the horror I felt seemed real. Shadows began casting their long images over the pathway, but I noticed a Light in the distance. I kept pushing toward that Light until the trail emptied into a courtyard and my feet landed at the threshold of a gate.