Clay.
From now on that’s my name. Call me clay.
I’m most definitely on the potter’s wheel and I don’t want to get off. Compelled by His open hands I whirl round and round not knowing what’s coming off next.
I find myself wrecked. Shaken to my core. People and choices and lifestyles that I have so harshly judged in days bygone are this moments tools of awakening to the unfailing love of Jesus in my innermost being.
I have no stones to throw. Or so I thought.
‘Really?’ I hear the spirit question.
Seems I need to put them down before I move on.
Whether consciously or subconsciously I believe I’ve had a satchel full. All ready to hurl in your direction.
Then one day turns to another and I see a different aspect of the Father’s love. His love is coming into view.
Magnified with each step.
I hike further up the mountain to encounter him and like Moses it’s His goodness that He chooses to reveal.
How have I come to this place? What has brought me broken and spilled out to the altar?
People. Truth be told it’s people.
Just pick one. One of the many laid down humble ones shining brighter than the sun. They are all around. They inspire me to know Him. How else do we know the love of God?
‘by this all men will know that you are My disciples,
if you have love for one another.’
John 13:35 NASB
It’s sacred scripture, holy humility. Love won’t allow me to stay on the judgment seat.
I’ve read it, sang it, ‘They will know we are Christians by our love by our love, they will know we are Christians by our love.’
So why am I not wholly living it?
I could remain face down and broken by his kindness for all my days. He’s cleansing me. His goodness knows no bounds and neither should mine. He’s lovingly brought me to this place of seeing. He is after all light; a blinding and glorious light of truth.
And in this place my desire is great. My heart cries out, ‘I want my wineskin to be renewed!’
Like manna to be tossed out are my mindsets at day’s end. I see, I can’t contain what He’s pouring in if I remain in the desolate state of today. His mercies are new day in, day out, and just keep coming back again. Oh that I would be postured daily to gather them in, collect every drop in a vessel formed able.
How? How then will I remain pliable? By choosing. I must choose to remain close to him. I must pray like Jesus taught us ‘give us THIS DAY our DAILY bread’. Like John the beloved I must be found a-leaning in.
Whether I behold the destitute or devout may I have an empty satchel. May my extended hands only offer healing and hope as an extension of Christ my very head.
No stones.
Only bread.
Regina Jones 