Broken Vessels

It’s not the first time it’s happened, and I’m sure it won’t be the last. I was packing up the last remnants of the Christmas season when the ornament slipped out of my hand and broke in dozens of pieces on the floor. I was already reminiscing about each of the ornaments as I took them off the tree, since most of our ornaments have sentimental value for one reason or another. But now this memory would be gone forever.

Early in our son’s marriage, my new daughter-in-law and I went to a local Christmas bazaar featuring many handmade crafts and gifts. It was a fun day together, and she bought me the hand-painted ornament that now lay on the floor in pieces. She knew how much I loved pansies and gave it to me as a Christmas gift a few weeks later. I am sad to no longer have this reminder of a good memory.          

But as I cleaned up the broken mess on the floor, I couldn’t help but think about some verses in the Bible that talk about brokenness and the fragile nature of each of our lives. I used to think that only other people were broken; I have discovered in the last twenty years that everyone is broken in some way . . . even me. Thankfully, we are reminded in the Psalms that God is near to the brokenhearted (Psalm 34:18) and that he heals them and binds up their wounds (Psalm 147:3). We also discover that God most desires those who come to him with a broken spirit and a broken and contrite heart (Psalm 51:17). 

Amazingly, it is this willingness to be broken that makes us the most useful for God’s kingdom and purposes. That’s because God can turn brokenness into something even better that can be used for ministry for him. Jeremiah 18:4 tells us about a field trip that God took Jeremiah on in order to teach him how to prophesy to the nation of Israel. He went to visit a potter and witnessed this: “And the vessel he was making of clay was spoiled in the potter’s hand, and he reworked it into another vessel, as it seemed good to the potter to do.” 

God still uses broken or “spoiled” vessels by reworking them into something new that is useful for his purposes. We don’t want to be broken because we don’t always understand what’s best. But God does. And when he looks at us in our “fragile jars of clay”, he sees vessels that can be reworked by him to carry the “treasure” of the gospel message to those around us (2 Corinthians 4:7). This verse goes on to remind us that God’s work through our brokenness is what will bring the glory to him and not to us. 

I can’t bring back the beautiful ornament that was broken. But I can embrace my own brokenness by allowing God to use me “just as I am” to minister to the lives of others “as it seems good to the potter to do”. I’ll always be amazed that this is God’s plan, and I’ll always be humbled to be a part of it. May you and I be faithful whenever he calls.

A Child's Faith

We were enjoying extended family time between Christmas and New Year’s, watching a football game and playing with our grandchildren. Someone mentioned a prayer need as we often do; but I wasn’t expecting the words I heard next. My 5-year-old grandson, who had recently decided to give his heart to God, stated matter-of-factly that he prays about lots of things . . . but that “it doesn’t always work”. 

I explained to him that prayer isn’t a magic formula and that God doesn’t always answer our prayers the way we want him to. Then I told him that we still have to choose to trust God anyway, even when he doesn’t do what we want him to do. My grandson has already begun to discover that real faith can be hard work. 

As a firm believer in the doctrine of salvation through faith alone by God’s grace alone, I don’t mean that we have to work hard to be saved for eternity. But as someone who has walked for decades in a personal relationship with God, I know that trusting him on a regular basis through all of life’s ups and downs can be hard work . . . and that doubt can be part of what we experience as we try to understand God’s ways of doing things. Isaiah 55:8-9 reminds us that God’s thoughts are not like our thoughts, and his ways are not like our ways. So sometimes we will struggle to understand what God is doing and to accept what his best for us looks like from our perspective. 

I wish I could help my grandson avoid the questions that come with trusting God. I wish he could fully understand that his new decision to follow God is about a daily relationship and not the blessings or gifts he gets from God. He’s too young to fully grasp the truth of how God’s knowledge of what is best for us and His unfailing love for us work together for our good and His glory. My grandson still has a lot to learn about God’s character in order to have his hope and trust properly placed for a lifetime of following God. I can’t walk that journey for him.

But, ironically, I can do for him the one thing that started this whole conversation. I can pray for him. For as much of his life as I am blessed to be a part of before I leave for my heavenly home, I can pray for my grandson to grow in his love for God and his understanding of God and his trust of God. And I can also listen when he expresses what he’s thinking and help him to understand what I have learned from my own walk with God. I can’t imagine a greater privilege! “Grandchildren are the crown of the aged . . .“ (Proverbs 17:6a). 

Gone Too Soon

 

It was a Monday, just like today. Seventeen years ago today, to be exact. That was the last time I saw my father. He had been given four years to live after being diagnosed with leukemia; and he lived almost all of those four years after the diagnosis. But the end, though not a surprise, happened quickly and left little opportunity to say goodbye. He was hospitalized on Saturday and was gone by Monday. It seems like such a long time ago now. And it sometimes seems like he died too young. 

A lot of life has been lived by those of us left behind since my Dad died. He only got to attend one of his five grandchildren’s weddings. He never knew about any of his nine great-grandchildren. He would have freely given both his love and support to all of them. Dad never knew I was going to be a writer and a published author. He never got to see God using me as a speaker, or most of the adult adventures his grandchildren have had. He would have been so proud. He never walked with us through the health difficulties of the years since his passing. He would have prayed earnestly for us. 

Time does heal and memories fade . . . sometimes more than we’d like them to. But I’m reminded that only those left behind think about the things I’ve mentioned. The moment Dad breathed his last breath, he entered into the presence of his Lord and Savior. There was no more pain. There was no more sorrow. All of his ties to earth were gone in a split second. Dad instantly began experiencing a much greater joy than anything on earth could offer him. 

And for that reason, I could never wish that he was still here – stuck in time and under the curse that began in the garden with Adam and Eve. It may be all we can see as we continue our lives here, but Dad has a completely different perspective from his new home in heaven. His body was left behind seventeen years ago, but his spirit will live forever! 

I’ve reached the age where heaven is looking better and better all the time. But, as the old saying goes, I don’t want to be so heavenly minded that I’m no earthly good. This world may not be my permanent home, but it is my home for now. And with God’s grace I want to “finish well” like my Dad did . . . serving God by loving others and holding the things of this world loosely. I miss you, Dad; but I’m so thankful for the privilege of being your daughter and carrying on the legacy you and Mom modeled in our family. Well done, good and faithful servant!
 

An October Memory

 

 

I haven’t had a first date in 47 years, and I’m pretty thankful that dating isn’t on my agenda in the changed environment of the 21^st century. You see, yesterday marked the 47^th anniversary of my first date with my future husband, and we’ve been together ever since. 

It was 1978. He had just turned eighteen, and I was barely twenty. Our eyes met at an all-campus event the first week of school at our college; and in the weeks that followed we had friendly exchanges while my roommate and I continued our practice from the previous year of eating dinner with members from the fifth floor of a neighboring dorm . . . which just happened to be the floor my future husband was living on during his first semester on campus that Fall.

Our first date (on a Thursday night) wasn’t glamorous, but it was meaningful. He asked me to go to a concert on campus, but we could only attend the first half because I was playing in an intramural volleyball game later in the evening. He came to watch my game as part of our date, and he thought I might be an athlete like he was . . . until he saw me play. He didn’t tell me his impression until much later! After the game, we took a walk along the canal that ran next to the gym. 

I’ll admit that, in my third year of college, I was looking for a possible future husband. I had dated enough guys in the first two years to at least know what I didn’t want. Ron seemed different, and I was immediately struck by how well he treated me and his obvious affection for me. We discovered early on that we shared a love of music and of travel. We both fell quickly and never looked back – marrying 21 months later. 

That first date seems like a lifetime ago, and in a lot of ways it was. Forty-seven years is a long time! And marriage has brought many ups and downs. The traditional vows have taken on new meanings as we have experienced life together – for richer or poorer, in sickness and in health. We have disappointed each other many times, but we have chosen to forgive the other one over and over through the years. And we both still love music and still love to travel! 

My brother and I got married the same year, and I have never forgotten a message that my new sister-in-law received from a relative of hers whose husband had made some choices that had created difficulty for his family. A simple phrase that summed up her approach to making her marriage work: “A happy marriage isn’t about marrying the right partner . . . it’s about being the right partner.”   

As I continue to add years to the timeframe since my first date with my husband-to-be, and as life continues to be a journey of ups and downs, I’m asking God to help me every day to be the kind of partner that brings happiness and joy to my marriage. And to trust God for the things I can’t control or change. We have less years ahead of us than those behind, but together we can continue to face the future with love for each other and guided by God as we have been since that first date so many years ago.