The Visitor And The Vase

At first consuming look, the vases on display are exquisite, seemingly priceless to the visitors of this little island.  After months of exacting precision, the finished product is a dazzling display of iridescent splendor that seems to shine all by itself. 

Standing nearly three feet tall, the vases have no equal, however, they are not for sale…at least, not yet.  The visitor is then shuttled into a completely white room containing a single, finished vase.  In his native tongue, the guide calls in two workers carrying hammers to the horror of the visitor.  Slowly, almost surgically, they begin to hammer beauty into pieces of rubble.  Wide-eyed, numb and mouth agape, the visitor watches the two men leave as another enters carrying what appears to be a pot of molten gold that he carefully sets down on some bricks.  With a picture of the once beautiful vase propped up in front of him, he sifts and sorts until he glues his first two pieces together with the sticky, gold filament from the pot. The visitor is finally led to the store front to view the work of this master-puzzler.  Finally, the “vase” is now ready for sale as a lantern, where words cannot describe its beauty.   Unless the visitor is taken through this process of witnessing the care and redemption of each fractured piece restored through gold filament, they will never see the beauty nor understand the value of this new creation.   In fact, many would shake their heads at the very sale of such brokeness if they were to visit the store front first and most likely prefer an “un-shattered” vase instead.  In fact, many do…

He Restores,


The Potter

Lord, pull me from this miry clay,
Mold me a vase to hold bouquets.
A priceless vase beyond compare,
Impris’ning all eyes as they stare.
Once I’m fired, painted and dried,
Then smash me Lord – despite my cries.
Spread my pieces both far and wide,
Then glue me together with the blood from your side.

Thin red, rivers wander throughout,
Framing the gaps where light comes out.
A priceless vase beyond compare,
Now casts the light a lantern shares.
Each chip I lose reveals more red,
Like a skeleton – thin as thread.
The light now feeds like living bread,
The Potter’s work complete in the life that I shed.

©2011 by  Chris Clody 8/30/2011

Please “Leave a reply” with your perspective on the will of the Potter.  Is it necessary for a Christian to “be broken” to allow the light from His God to shine from within?

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