A Piece of Clay

(8-31-03 Pondering on my bed at home)

Jeremiah 18:3-4 Then I went down to the potter's house, and, behold, he wrought a work on the wheels. And the vessel that he made of clay was marred in the hand of the potter:

Only clay
Why do we think we have the say?
For we are only spinning on the wheel
Of Life
Being molded
He uses His hands
Sometimes as sharp as a knife
Piercing
The innermost part of a vessel
The heart

Some are filled
Some empty
Some reflecting
Honor to the Potter
Others stand guilty

It’s a pity
Why do we get caught up in mind
Or the world, sin’s city?

Once again, we’re a piece of clay
Ever so weak
For many, just watching
Another day
Pass
Those moments are wasted
Cast
Into the memory of the Potter
Even though, you are not bothered
His hands are molding
Pointing
His eyes are watching
Showing
The vessel, He wants you to be

He waters the dry
Upholds the wet
But never with any regrets
When He decides to start over
He’ll drop you to the floor
A heart piercing sore
To be broken

Yet you’re His creation
Genuine in His imagination
Reaching down
Gathering up the pieces
That was shattered on the ground

Never a thought of throwing the clay away
Slapping the dirt
Back onto the wheel
He continues to spin
What’s the deal?

The Potter never gives up
There’s no such thing as wasted clay
Every handful of dust
He’s longing to display
With all sincerity
On the tables of eternity
Why stand in the way?
Just a hump of selfish clay