Poetry

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THE PARABLE OF THE POTTER

Weary and so broken, I look to you for strength
My heart is filled with trouble – where is my resting place?
Waves crash all around me and my boat is sinking fast
Oh God if you would only hurry up and let these trials pass!

Though gently all around me I see signs that you are there
I ball my fist in frustration and yell to you, “This isn’t fair!”
Why must everything go easy for sinner one and sinner two?
It seems they receive the blessings but look at the hell I must go through!

With quiet whispers you answer me – you’ve never been manipulated
You make no changes in who you are – no matter how much I am aggravated
With tender loving patience you draw me to your side
You look at me with eyes of love like a husband towards his bride

Child, when you first came to me your life was scarred and torn
Yet through the blood of my precious son your spirit was reborn
But it did not finish there oh no, I want so much more for you
I desire your heart to be whole again and your mind to be renewed
This takes testing my dear child and if you can envision in your mind
A master potter with a lump of clay that through the fire he’ll refine
He’ll spin that clay upon his wheel and work it with his hands
And though the clay seems unattractive, the potter sees a greater plan
He sees the end result before it even comes to pass
But the clay it must be fired if it’s ever going to last
He’ll place it in the fire and the temperatures will rise
And he must keep it in the fire through its pleading and its cries
For if he pulls it out before the time is supposed to be
That clay will crack with any pressure and any water it will leak
But once the firing is over the potter will look with great inspection
And he’ll smile with great relief as he gazes upon his reflection

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