PRAYER OF THE BROKEN VESSEL
I thought I knew brokenness.
I thought that there was nothing left to surrender,
nothing more between You and me.
You have taken every avenue of security from me,
bringing me gently but persistently
to the place of the Cross time and time over.
All my plans, all my hopes,
all my basic expectations of life lie there,
among the ruins of Golgotha.
Dead, buried, before Your greater wisdom,
painful but willing sacrifices to your Sovereign love.
I considered that the cost
had been carefully weighted
and acknowledged between You and me.
I was not as one unaware or
ignorant of Your ways.
When was it I heard
the subtle whisperings of our enemy
that this agreement between You and I
For You never told me you would not dig deeper.
You never spoke the words that
Your fullness would come at an agreed price.
You spoke truth to me....
That to walk Your path would cost me everything.
You said it would be lonely, for the path is narrow.
You said it would involve a yoke
even though light, a yoke nonetheless.
You said if I would be faithful,
I would enter into Your joy.
You promised me trial, tribulation,
betrayal and persecution,
and I embraced even those.
You told me to follow You
would mean a cross for my shoulders,
but You also told me
You would never leave me or forsake me,
and that nothing would separate us.
You've been faithful to Your Word always,
working the Cross in my life
at the same time as You've worked
Your love and will in my life.
Not always with my understanding or compliance,
but always providing sufficient grace for the hour.
Always waiting for my final consent
and surrender to the life of brokenness,
as you tenderly but consistently
conform me to the image of the Son.
Now, as His very nature begins to unfold in me,
at last the revelation comes.
There is no final place of brokenness.
There are only levels of brokenness.
The greatest enemy
to Your work of brokenness in my life is me.
It's I who stands in opposition
to your tools of circumcision.
It's my own flesh that rises up
against the increasing revelation of who You are,
and who You would have me be in You.
So here I am before You again, my God....
Broken, but sensing Your desire
to break me yet more deeply.
Helpless, yet aware of my need
to become still more helpless before you.
Vulnerable, yet again laying bare my heart
to your firm, sure Hand.
Surrendering all, yet not knowing
if all is yet surrendered.
If You choose to pour me out like water, Lord,
then fill me again
with your ever increasing fullness.
Brokenness means suffering.
Brokenness is the Cross.
But the sweetness of your fellowship there
can be found in no other place I know of.
Oh God, I yield. Do what you will, Lord....
I must have more of You.
Lord, come, I thirst......
"I am poured out like water, and all my bones are out of joint; my heart is like wax; it has melted within me, my strength is dried up like a potsherd, and my tongue clings to my jaws, you have brought me to the dust of death." Ps. 22:14,1
I NEVER KNEW!
I never knew, "I'd only get in your way!"
I never knew, "My love could destroy...till today!"
"My intentions were only good; don't you see?"
"I was trying to show Your love wasn't wasted on me!"
"When you touched my heart, my love burned like a fire;
but You say, My love SMOTHERS with this burning desire?!"
"I just wanted to help! You know...to somehow repay"
"Well isn't that right?....I'm Co-dependent you say?!!"
"OK, NOW that I'm speechless....guess I'll listen to you."
"I'm Co-dependent on God?...next He'll say my religion's dysfunctional too!"
"I AM the Lord, the one who set your heart on fire."
"I need you to let go, 'Let God', that's what I desire"
"You lack letting go and letting me DO!"
"That's your dysfunction, I should control, NOT you!"
"You have been called from blindness to sight,
I want you to SEE all My power and might!"
"Please don't try to repay with all your favors and such;
since you are still lame...let Me be your crutch."
"Just sit back and rest so I can put My ointment on you."
"Let the Master of troubles show what I AM is able to do!"
THE POTTER & THE CLAY
Without form, I was once a lump of clay
There was nothing to admire,
I was nothing to behold,
For I had not been given shape
The Potter tossed me on the wheel
and began to mold me into what He had
Designed for me to be
For hours His hands gently shaped
The beginnings of His masterpiece
Round and round I spun
Staying in the grasp of the Potters hands
Until I started to look like the Pot
Which He had designed and planned
After the wheel stopped spinning, I looked
Upon the Potters shelf
And saw that all the pots
Waiting to be finished
Looked nothing like myself
We all looked different,
Some would hold water,
Some oil or wine
But I still did not know
My purpose, at this stage in time
"So," I asked the Potter,
"What are you going to use me for?
What is your plan?"
"You will see," He answered with a smile,
"Just be willing to let Me mold you in My hands"
Round and round I spun again
Wondering when this spinning would end
Finally He stopped
and sat me on His shelf to dry
The Potter smiled at me and said,
"You will have to be patient
and wait here for a while"
For days I sat, thinking
He had forgotten about me
He was working on the other pots
And I watched as He decorated them
With such beauty
He sat a nicely painted pot,
next to me on the shelf
And I became discouraged
when I looked at myself
I looked around and saw pots,
Decorated with beautiful colours
The Potter saw my discouragement and He said,
"Don't worry; I will also decorate you
like I have the others
It will and does take time
To be molded and shaped
in these hands of Mine
Be patient and don't fret
I am not finished with you yet!"
Days later He took me off the shelf
and took me over to the fire
Then He said, "Now, This is going to be hot!
I have to leave you in here for a while"
The heat was intense, and I cried out from
Behind the kiln door
"Get me out of here! I can't stand this anymore!"
Eventually He took me out
and I cried tears of relief
I couldn't help but ask Him
"What are you doing with me?"
The Potter gave me another smile and said
"I am the Designer; there is much to do yet
Trust Me, I have a wonderful future and plan for you
I am sorry My little pot, there will be more fire
I will have to allow you to go through"
He began to paint me and glaze me
And spent much time
Giving me my own decoration
and unique design
After He had finished,
again He put me into the fire
But this time it was hotter,
And I screamed, "Let me out!
I am going to die!"
The Potter watched me through the door
I cried and pleaded for Him to take me out
Because I could not stand it anymore
He just smiled at me and shook His head
"No, My dear pot, I am not finished with you yet"
Finally the doors opened
And He took me out of the intense heat
He smiled once again and said
"You are now complete!
Now you can be used for My purpose
And fulfill the plans I have for you
Now listen carefully to
what I want you to do"
"I want you to be a flowerpot
Will you do that for Me?"
"But!" I said "I was hoping to be something more!
Like that pot sitting next to me
She was going to hold the finest oil
And the other one over there,
Said she will be used for expensive perfume,
Do you want me to hold flowers?
Is that all you have for me to do?"
The Potter looked slightly angry
And shook His head
"Who are you to question ME?
I am the Potter and you are the clay"
"You said you would be a willing vessel,
Will you do what I have asked you to do"
"Hold flowers for me, so that the people who pass by
Can smell their sweet perfume
Your purpose is no less or more than any other
You are uniquely designed, with your own decoration
And beautiful colours"
I nodded and agreed
That I would fulfil the purpose
the Potter had destined for me
He placed within me twelve roses to hold
And then He smiled and said,
"Now you are really something to behold"
You were nothing
And I made you into something
You were once a dull, lifeless lump of clay
But now you are a work of My hands
That I am proud to put on display
You are My little Flower Pot,
and I will use you
For My purpose and My plan
Because you were willing,
To be molded, and shaped,
Like Clay in the Potters Hands.