Wholly His

CRASH!

Sticky coffee spilled onto the stone counter top and tile floor, dripping in streams down the wooden side of the counter. Coffee mug shards littered the hard floor after sliding themselves into haphazard places and corners entire rooms away. I stood perfectly still in my bare feet taking in the mess, not sure where to attack it first. Then it occurred to me which mug I was looking at, broken in pieces before me: my daughter’s confirmation gift from her grandmother.

I snapped a picture of the disaster and got busy cleaning it up. I then sent a text with the picture to my daughter, telling her how sorry I was for the accident. I followed that text with another apology, this time to my mother-in-law.

This is precisely the kind of situation that used to drive me crazy. I would mercilessly ridicule myself for my clumsiness or absent-mindedness. I would hesitate to use a “special” mug in the first place, because of the risk factor.

I’m not sure exactly when I changed, but although I’m sad I broke the mug and had to clean up the mess, I’m not beating myself up about it. Accidents happen. And I’m choosing to appreciate the joy that little mug brought every time we drank some warm goodness from it. It was beautiful and had a verse from Psalms written on the side. It represented a very special moment in my daughter’s faith life and the loving, prayerful support of her grandmother.

But I think that’s the point: it only represented those things. Nothing will erase the memories of her confirmation ceremony. No person nor thing can erase the vows she made that day. Nothing will ever change her grandmother’s love for her.

I give them eternal life, and they shall never perish; no one will snatch them out of my hand. My Father, who has given them to me, is greater than all; no one can snatch them out of my Father’s hand. 

john 10;28-29

For I am convinced that neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither the present nor the future, nor any powers, neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord.

romans 8:38-39

That pretty little mug may have been one of life’s simple pleasures, but it does not compare to the Kingdom gifts we will enjoy because of Jesus Christ. The here and now is minuscule compared to the expanse of God’s eternity, and our time here is fleeting. Instead of mourning a small loss this morning, I am choosing to be grateful for the experience of the gift itself.

Yesterday while driving through town, the radio played Matthew West’s song “Broken Things,” and I hear it playing on a loop in my head this morning.

“But if it’s true You use broken things,

then here I am Lord, I’m all yours.”

matthew west

Like that coffee mug, I am broken into pieces … by sin, disappointment, loss, health conditions, and an endless list of failures. I eagerly await the Kingdom of Heaven where I will be made new forever. Thank the Lord He loves broken things!

WHOLLY His,

Nicki

4 thoughts on “Wholly His

  1. The cup was an outward symbol of the grandmother’s love and happiness for the faith of her granddaughter. No cup can hold all the love of the grandmother, just as nothing is big enough to contain God’s love for us.

    Liked by 1 person

  2. An old potter, hands aged and skilled, picked up some clay from the bucket he’d filled.
    And all his creations in his mind quickly churned as he centered the clay while the potter’s wheel turned.
    His mind wandered back as he molded the clay to all of the vessels he’d made in his day.
    A kiss of perfection to each he had given. A master’s perfection for each he had striven.
    The lump took command from his fingers and grew into a vessel, and a perfect one, too.
    My, vessels, he thought, are perfect when born though the wear and use of life makes them worn.
    So much like humans are the vessels I make. So given to wear and so easy to break.
    And how much like God, the Creator am I for I give them perfection and set them to dry.
    In drying they lose their softness of form no more to be molded but hardened and worn.
    And then at the end of a vessel’shard life, all battered and broken yet seasoned from strife
    The words of the Master we’ll remember and see “you were made in my image, like me ye shall be.”

    Liked by 1 person

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