Another day, another disappointment. The clay jar sighs to itself.
I've been sitting here in the shadow of the shinier and smoother vases and jars since that dreaded day -- the day that my chance of being bought by someone who would appreciate my intricacies was smashed. The accidental knock sure landed me with a crack so bad that it would never allow me to hold water for the crimson roses nor silken lilies...
It goes on to reminisce its past glory as a new clay jar, freshly and carefully shaped by the Master; and then drops its gaze at the crack snaking across its dusty brown body. If not for the crack, it'd have been polished and painted to look like the rest. It was supposed to be the most unusually shaped jar in the shop. But now, never will its dream of being displayed proudly in a well-furnished house come to pass.
Maybe one day, the Master might cover my crack with the new paint he's gotten. Or perhaps, someone might miss out my flaw and use me to put things that don't need water... like coins or pins or ... things that are of little value. And so, the thoughts continue; some days hopeful and others, helpless.
Until one day, an old lady enters the shop. Squinting her eyes, she looked around the shop for something that can contain her precious gifts in. Shifting from the expensive vases standing tall in the glass cabinet at the front of the shop to the modestly fashioned pots, she finally rests her glance on the little clay jar on the corner of the shelf.
Going closer, she picked up the jar and examined it, further narrowing her aged eyes. Oh no, don't see the crack... please, don't put me down! The little clay jar nervously thinks to itself.
Finally, the old lady gently put the jar down - not back on the shelf but at the counter. "I'd like to buy this, please." Did I hear wrongly? Was she referring to me? Maybe her eyesight failed her; or, perhaps Master should point out my crack to her... I'm in the 'as-in' corner, surely she was expecting some flaws in me?
After paying for the jar, she carefully carries it home and cleans it with a towel. Then, she sets it down and begins to spoon sand into the jar, leaving just a small hole to contain a ring and a necklace - the first gifts from her only love. She fills up the rest of the jar and inserts a small picture holder with their wedding photo. And finally, a smile fills her wrinkled face.
The little jar may never be admired by many, but it will always be looked upon tenderly by one. It may never hold exotic cuts of flowers that fill a room with sweet fragrance, but it holds the most precious gifts in the heart of its new owner. And this, for a jar, is the best and most appropriate thing that ever happens - to be a vessel for which it was first created.
Come Lift Up Your Sorrows
Michael Card ~ Sampler
Michael Card ~ Sampler
If you are wounded, if you are alone,
If you are angry, if your heart is cold as stone,
If you have fallen and if you are weak,
Come find the worth of God
That only the suffering seek.
(Chorus)
Come lift up your sorrows
And offer your pain;
Come make a sacrifice
Of all your shame;
There in your wilderness
He's waiting for you
To worship Him with your wounds,
For He's wounded too.
He has not stuttered, and He has not lied
When He said, "Come unto me, you're not disqualified"
When you're heavy laden, you may want to depart,
But those who know sorrow are closest to His heart.
In this most Holy Place
He's made a sacred space
For those who will enter in
And trust to cry out to Him;
You'll find no curtain there,
No reason left for fear;
There's perfect freedom here
To weep every unwept tear.
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