Ever see a broken piece of clay? Remember old pottery classes at school where you left your project out too long? Or you rolled and rolled that clay and placed, carefully, layer upon layer to make that beautiful bowl only to have it fall apart?
I am that dry, crusty clay.
Nothing anyone does can make me into what I think I should be. I will not be a pretty vase or a smooth cup for someone’s tea. I am the clay that keeps getting recycled, molded back in with new clay to be reformed. And I am happy for it. I want to be continually malleable to the Holy spirit’s will for my life for He is the potter and I am His clay and all of His creation is beautiful when he breaths his life into it.