Tuesday, 22 July 2008

• lessons from large group

   

  "I was a lump of clay. Every day I lay by the side of the road while many people passed by and I longed to be of more worth...I wanted to be big and important! I wanted people to look at me and say, "Oooohh!! Ahhhhh!! Beautiful!" But I was just a lump of clay. One day a man came by and to my excitement he was looking at clay! He began to pick up different lumps of clay, examining them closely, and turning them over and over in his hand. As I watched him, I cried out, "Pick me!! Oh, please pick me!" I hoped he would take me back and possibly do something great with me! I wanted people to look at me and say, "Ooooohh!! Ahhhhhh!! Beautiful!!" But he did not. He picked another lump of clay and left. Day after day the man came back to find clay, and day after day as he passed by I cried, "PLEASE pick me!!" Then one day, as his eyes passed over the lumps of clay lying around me, he suddenly stopped. His eyes rested on me. His hand reached out and then picked me up. It was big and strong and it turned me over slowly. In my heart I cried, "Pick me!! Oh PLEASE pick me!" I thought, "Maybe now is my chance to become something great!! Maybe I will someday be in a very important place, and people will look at me and say, "Ooooohh!! Ahhhhhh!! Beautiful!!" Then the man took me and placed me gently in his bucket and carried me home. I was so excited! I thought, "NOW is the time! Finally he will make me into something great!!" But the man simply took me out of the bucket and placed me on a shelf. My hopes were dashed to the ground! Is this all I was made for? Is this what he brought me back for? All I wanted was to be something big and great. I wanted people to look at me and say, "Oooooohh!! Ahhhhh!! Beautiful!" But how would that ever happen if all I did was sit on a shelf?

  I sat there for a very long time. As I sat there I saw other lumps of clay be taken into the man's hands and fashioned into beautiful vases and pots. I dreamed of the day when I would also become something big and important...maybe even a vase that would sit in the King's house! Oh!!! When I thought of that I felt tingly and excited all over! To be something that the King Himself would consider worthy to sit in His house! Then SURELY when people looked at me they would say, "Ooooohh!! Ahhhhh!! Beautiful!!" Still I sat on the shelf. Until one day, at long last, the man came over to me, took me into his hands, and began to push and shove me. It hurt!! I didn't like it at all! I cried out! But still he continued to mold me, twist me, turn me, and press me. I thought to myself that I didn't think becoming something beautiful would be so painful. But I remembered my dream of becoming a beautiful vase and sitting one day in the King's house...and I put up with the pain as best I could. Surely after all this suffering I would be made into something worthy of anyone's notice! I thrilled with excitement at the thought of how it would feel for people to look at me and say, "Ooooohh!! Ahhhhh!! Beautiful!"

  When finally the man stopped pushing and shoving me, I looked down at myself to see how beautiful a vase I had become! I was stricken with shock disappointment to find that I was not beautiful at all! Instead I was a rather simple, rather plain, rather ugly pot. "Oh no!" I cried! "How could this be?! I was supposed to be something amazing, unique, and beautiful! I was supposed to be something that the King would admire and place in His house!" Now all my hopes were gone. How would anyone ever look at me and say, "Ooooohh! Ahhhhh!! Beautiful?!" I was placed on a shelf next to many other rather simple, rather plain, rather ugly pots. Every day people passed in and out. They would walk around, choose a pot they wanted, and then leave. But they never chose me. And every day I thought how drab and boring my life was. I had wanted to be something great! And now here I was, a plain, simple, ugly old pot who no one ever looked at and no one wanted.

  Then one day a man came into the shop. He was big, and strong, and he smelled like hard work and sweat. He began to look around at the simple, plain, ugly pots. Inside I cried out, "Please, DON'T pick me!" He was NOT the King! He smelled bad! If this man took me home with him, I would never become something great. I would never sit in the King's house. People would never look at me and say, "Ooooohh! Ahhhhhh!! Beautiful!!" But the man picked me up and to my horror I heard him say the words, "I want this one. Yes, this one will do just fine!" He carried me to a camp where there were many men who smelled just like him and placed me in his tent and went to sleep. I heard some of the men say that they were preparing for a battle! A battle?! Oh no! That meant fighting and danger! This was nothing like my dream! Was it never to come true?! Then suddenly the man picked me up and there was a great shout, and then I was thrown down to the ground and I broke into many pieces. I was trampled upon over and over as men ran back and forth yelling and shouting and fighting. When all was over and things finally quieted down there I lay on the ground...broken into pieces, shattered just as my dreams were shattered. Now I would certainly never sit in the King's house. I would certainly never be anything big or great. People would never ever look at me and say, "Ooooohh!! Ahhhhh!! Beautiful!"

  Days passed. Months passed. Years passed. Still I lay on the ground. No one looked at me. No one wanted me. I was just a broken pot. Then after 500 years or more, I heard a noise. It was people, and they were coming my way. They seemed to be looking for something. "There should be something around here," I heard one of them say. Then one of them gave a cry and knelt down. He called his friend over and they began talking excitedly. I wondered what could be exciting them so much. Then one of them reached down and carefully, gently, Oh, so gently picked me up. Me! The broken pot! They were talking about me! They were excited about me! "This is it!" they said, joyfully to each other! "This is his pot!" "His pot?" Whose pot? And why were they so excited about finding an old broken pot? They carried me back to a huge place with many, many old things...special things...things that people came from miles away to see. They placed me in a display with a sign that simply said, "Gideon's pot." And to my surprise as people came by to see me they stopped and stared. They gasped in amazement! They said, "Ooooohh!! Ahhhhh!! Beautiful!"

  I was so confused at first! Why, I wasn't beautiful! I was nothing but an old, broken pot. Then I heard them say it again..."This is Gideon's pot!" And suddenly it clicked. The truth dawned on me. I realized that I was treasured not for what I was, but for who I belonged to. It didn't really matter if I was big or great. I didn't matter if I ever sat in the King's house, or did great things, or received great fame. The important thing was not what I was, but whose I was. The man named Gideon, who took me back to his tent that day was a great military leader who led a small group of men in a battle against an army many times their size and defeated the enemy. That day on the battlefield he held me high and used me to give the signal to his men to begin their surprise attack that resulted in victory. Because I belonged to him, and he had done great things with me, I was famous. Not because I was big or great or beautiful. But because I was his. When I understood this, my heart swelled with pride and suddenly I didn't care if people said, "Ooooohh!! Ahhhhhh!! Beautiful!" or not. I just wanted to sit there forever and rejoice in the glory and delight of being his."

   

  This is one of our stories for camps this year. As I sat and listened to Lucas tell it the first week, I was suddenly in tears as God spoke His truth to my heart. Though I know good and well the lesson of abiding in Him, and letting Him do the work through me as I yield myself to Him, it is so easy in the rush and business of life, especially during camps, to forget. In this story, God told me that He is not only the Owner, but also the King and the Potter. He chooses me, sets me aside sometimes, for a time, then molds me, makes me, fashions me into what He wants me to be. Not into what my long dreamed, dearly cherished dreams have envisioned for me, but according to His pattern for me. The things that come my way are not always just as I always assumed they would be, but it's ok...because that too, is a part of His plan. So many times my only desire is just to sit in His house, to bring Him glory, to be something that, when others see, they will say, "Ooooohh!! Ahhhhhh!! Beautiful!!" But He has other plans for me. Sometimes it takes brokenness before I will let go of a vision or a dream and realize that I am really nothing...nothing at all. That there is no hope of me in myself ever being great or useful to Him again. But it is then that He reminds me that my worth is not in my outward appearance, or in my skills, or in my wisdom or strength, or knowledge, or experience as a teacher, or anything that I could ever do or say. My worth is found in that I belong to Him...I am His. All He wants me to do is be His. And to find joy and satisfaction and fulfillment in that truth. It may take a long time...many experiences, many breakings, many revelations, before I am finally completely aware of what is is to live in this truth. It is only then that He, my King, will set me in His house, and all those who see WILL praise Him and WILL bring Him honor and glory, and WILL say, "Ooooohh!! Ahhhhhh!! Beautiful!" And it will not be because of who or what I am, but simply because of Whose I am.

   

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