His Kind of Pot

I had a dream the other night about a vase I own.  No joke.  I was in a department store and on the wall was 3 different sizes of this same vase.  They were displayed as if they were quite valuable.  I think about the dream now and I laugh.  This vase is shaped like an urn.  It is black and has gold details on it.  It belonged to Kevin's grandmother.  It apparently was quite the funny conversation piece.  The family would wonder who's ashes could or would occupy the vase.  I love the vase because it belonged to his grandmother. It isn't that pretty. In my dream though it was very valuable.

Isaiah 64:8
Yet, O LORD, you are our Father. We are the clay, you are the potter; we are all the work of your hand.

I woke up this morning thinking that my "clay pot" is pretty run down these days.  I have had a lot of stresses these days and my environment has truly worn me down.  Erosion of my spirit's joy is becoming visable.  Why?  It comes down to NOT reading the Bible daily in my life.  It comes down to not having the bright and healthy spiritual fruits on display.  I can stay looking like this pot pictured in this blog.  It has charm and intrigue but it is not screaming I am beautiful and I have purpose.

Friends, most everyone has stress, health issues, financial woes, and rebellious children or the like sometime in there life.  But when do we give up and become dull?  I do when I don't take the time to read his word and apply it and use myself for God.  You see when I do, I suddenly start exercising, applying some color to my face, change my language, and strive for Godliness.  It fuels my efforts and refines purpose and attitude.  Left to my own emotions, history, and secular knowledge, I become tired and hopeless.  As you can read between the lines, my Bibles study has been "nil".  My language, my demeanor and my physical stance all testify to this.

Today I am looking in the mirror.  I am raising my lazy eyes toward the potter. I want to feel the strength of His hands that holds me together.  I want the fiery warmth of His hands to refine my cracks and scars. I look for the colorful glaze of His fruits, and most of all the smoothness of His peace.  It can happen.

Change My Heart Oh God (click on blog title).  Love ya all bunches.