I am dry clay

I’ve been put away on a shelf.

I’ve been poked at.

Sliced into.

Tossed away.

Repeatedly…

Then comes The One

He presses in, but it doesn’t hurt.

He isn’t trying to rip me apart. 

Or destroy me.

It’s nice to be seen

To be held

…

What now?

Why is He still holding?

Perhaps, He is enjoying this novelty.

After all, isn’t it amazing?

This is what sets me apart.

Perhaps, toughness is actually rare

I don’t bend when pressed

What strength He must be admiring!

He briefly washed me with water

It feels nice…

It’s refreshing.

I feel lighter after that quick encounter

A little more moldable- but you’re still tough!

You’re still you!

Just a smidge flexible! Improved!

He said something about becoming a vessel.

I am a block, sir.

Solid block.

Square.

Sharp edges

And you want me to be a vessel?

Like a pot?

To hold living water within me?

Is that possible?

He said yes

That’s amazing

Wow

This is going to be so great

Wait

Wait no

I didn’t ask to be set in water like this!

I have to stay here?

I didn’t want to be soft like this!

This is a lot

It doesn’t take all this!

Why would you do this?

I was fine by myself

A little lonely

But I was me

Am I not enough as I am now?

Must I lose what makes me unique and different?

He said ‘not quite’

And then began to speak a bit as to what HE sees

His precious creation

He told me about

All the hues and specks of glimmer that are within me

He told me where He wanted to use me.

How He wanted to use me

I didn’t do anything though.

I didn’t prove to Him that I was meant for this project.

I’ve only ever heard about other pieces of clay and how great they are

But not often did I hear the same about myself.

Countless times I’ve heard I was no good

Yet this potter says I’m more than great.

He calls me His masterpiece

As though He already knows the end result 

As though He already did all the work

As though He is finished…

(Breathe out)

I thought I was tough. 

But in reality I was stiff from my burdens

Sore from protecting myself

And He pressed in

He massaged those pains

Washed away unnecessary dust

In this process He kept talking.

He kept listening

He kept showing up

He never got tired of working on me

He didn’t say “you’re too much!” Or “What’s wrong with you!”

He didn’t call me wrong.

He didn’t call me by the names I was accustomed to-

That all seemed to mean the same thing: “insufficient” 

He called me by my name

It’s a name He picked out for me

And it’s much more beautiful than I ever anticipated

In this process I talked more

I listened more

I started expecting more

Until the appointed day, I am molded

For the good of the Kingdom

Each day I want to indulge in this joy and excitement

That comes from His presence

What does He have to say?

What does He want to do?

I want to be a part of it.

No matter what it takes

Or what it demands

He’s worth it all.