Little Vessel

little vessel


Clay pot

Fired in dry scald,

Cooled in shadow, slow.

You fancy life as

Crystal vase,

Showy, all etched

And clearly consequential.



As it is,

You are closer kin to brick,

Made for modest ministry.

Daily-duties clamor and claim your time:








Sometimes you chafe at lowly list

And calloused hands

That grasp and empty, fill and drain.



Humble jar,

See these Noble hands

With wounded palm.

They coaxed you to life,

Fearless compassion through and through.

They molded and shaped

You from formlessness

Amid the splattering, sticky mess.



Fractures and chips

Were sure to come.

But these hands belong to One

Who endured the bruising

And the breaking first.

This is an arid, bone-dry place

In much need of watering.

If His righteous hands open in obedience

With quiet grace,

Can you not quiet your complaint

And allow Him to store and serve up

His mercy-water to other thirsty souls

As it seeps through your cracks,

And runs over the rim?



Your Creator-Redeemer,

Who both breathed life,

And bought you back, broken,

Accepts and abides in humility

That lies beyond all reason.

Is it any wonder, Little Vessel, that He asks a bit of you?



kpeterson      February 2013

This entry was posted in At the Throne of Grace, Call to be Courageous and tagged , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

One Response to Little Vessel

  1. Brian Peterson says:

    Wow heavy thoughts and they get right to the point and evoke emotion at the same time. Hard to be a clay pot. I love you!

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