The Master was searching for a vessel to use.
Before Him were many, which one would He choose?
"Take me," cried the gold one. "I'm shiny and bright,
I'm of great value and I do things just right.
My beauty and luster will outshine the rest.
For someone like you, Master, gold would be best."
The Master passed on with no word at all.
And looked at a silver urn, grand and tall.
"I'll serve you, Master, I'll pour out your wine.
I'll be on your table whenever you dine.
My lines are so graceful, my carving so true.
And silver will always complement you."
Unheeding, the Master passed on to the brass,
Wide-mouthed and shallow and polished like glass.
"Here, here!" cried the vessel, "I know I will do,
Place me on your table for all men to view."
"Look at me," called the goblet of crystal so clear,
"My transparency shows my contents so dear.
Though fragile am I, I will serve you with pride,
And I'll be happy in your house to abide."
Then the Master came next to a vessel of wood,
Polished and carved, it very solidly stood.
"You may use me, dearest Master," the wooden bowl said.
"But I'd rather you used me for fruit, not for bread."
Then the Master looked down and saw a vessel of clay.
Empty and now broken, it helplessly lay.
No hope had the vessel that the Master might choose,
To cleanse, and to make whole, to fill and to use.
"Ah! Now this is the vessel I've been hoping to find.
I'll mend it and use it and make it mine.
I need not the vessel with pride of itself,
Nor one that is narrow to sit on the shelf,
Nor one that is big-mouthed and shallow and loud,
Nor one that displays his contents so proud,
Nor the one who thinks he can do things just right.
But this plain vessel filled with power and might."
Then gently He "lifted up" the vessel of clay,
Mended and cleansed it and filled it that day:
He let the vessel know -- "There's much work to do...
You are to pour out to others, as I pour into you."
Psalm 8:5
Thou hast made him a little lower than the angels, and hast cr owned him with glory and honor.
There are not many days that go by where I feel very holy. As much as I might like to be a reflection of Jesus Christ, I am afraid that my image is a very dim one at best. For each success I have at walking in the footsteps of Christ, I have a dozen failures where I have strayed from the path. And through it all, God still loves me totally. In my imperfection, God still reveres me and thinks I am good. It boggles the mind to realize that human beings are God's pride and joy. Despite the grief and frustration we must be, God believes in us and helps us to be the best people that we can be. He loves His children and rejoices in their victories. Our Lord created us just lower than the angels; the most perfect of His creations.
Despair not. No matter how inadequate we might feel, we are considered beautiful by our Creator, and in the end it is His opinion, not ours, that makes all the difference in the world.
Prayer:
Grant me spiritual wings that I might soar as an angel on this earth, O Lord. Help me to live up to the intention You had at my creation. Let me wear my crown wisely and proudly, to Your glory. Amen.
