Previous Challenge Entry (Level 3 - Advanced)
Topic: Birth (infancy) (08/20/09)
TITLE: My Master's Cup
By Clyde Blakely
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As a hired servant and chief cup bearer I had privileges few others had, mainly access to the master. My father was his father’s cup bearer, as was his father before him. I grew up under the master’s roof; we could have been friends in another culture. I was a trusted servant. I protected my master by tasting each cup before he drank it. In that sense, we were friends. No better job I could hope for from my status in society.
All that changed when his son got married. My master invited other prominent families in the area, mostly his fellow Pharisees. He was a kind man and invited others who he thought were down on their luck. Several days into this great banquet one widow came with all her children. By this time there wasn’t much left. We had gone into the surrounding villages gathering food and drink as it had gone on longer than we had planned. My master wanted his son and daughter-in-law to have the best, this kept us busy.
We were out of wine when I was told by one of the widow’s sons to fetch our large basins and fill them with water. Who was this man to instruct us? “Do whatever he tells you," his mother told us. She was a close friend of my master. Her husband had built many articles in my master’s house.
We did as she said, filling them clear to the brim. What we were told next made no sense, “Draw some out and serve your master.” I knew my master was not drunk, but this guest, perhaps he was drunk before he came. I did as told, thinking that this family would be told to leave after I explained what they made me do.
Imagine our surprise when we discovered the vessels were filled, not with water, but good wine, better than any we had tasted. I almost drank the whole cup, “tasting it”, before I gave it to my master. A great toast was given to the bridegroom because of this.
We never looked at those vessels the same again. Even though they looked the same we knew they had been used in a special way.
A few nights later I was privileged to accompany my master as he visited the man who had changed the water into wine. He was searching for something, and so was I. My master never had a chance to ask his question before this man answered it. I knew what he wanted to ask, because I had the same question: “How can I become a vessel to be used by God?” I wanted the Holy Spirit flowing out of me, like that wine instead of plain water.
His answer caught me off guard. I could not image how I could crawl back into my mother’s womb and be born again. Being born as a baby again? We listened closely to this Master and it was as if scales fell from our eyes, it became so clear. That night this vessel became a new vessel, washed clean, as if a potter had reformed me into a pot fit for His service. I did, I really did, feel born again. My old master had a new Master as did I. I served gladly as cup bearer for one master and the cup for the great Master. I am growing again, this time on the milk of His Word.
No one looks at this vessel, me, the same way anymore. My cup runneth over; His cup!
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