We now have this light shining in our hearts, but we ourselves are like fragile clay jars containing this great treasure. This makes it clear that our great power is from God, not from ourselves. (2 Corinthians 4:7)
Relate: I had a large bowl of pasta in each hand as I rounded the corner. My eyes were on where I was going, not where I was walking and that wasn’t a good thing. Right at that corner there was a pool of water and when my feet hit it, they slipped. With both hands occupied, there was no way to grab something as I slid downward. One bowl crashed and shattered, the bowl in my right hand didn’t. I never let go so as I fell my thumb ended up between that bowl and the ground. It wasn’t broken but it did swell up like a balloon and I wasn’t able to bend or use it for hours.
This wasn’t the first time I broke something and I’m sure it won’t be the last. Over the last couple days I’ve been moving from one apartment to another and at least one (very cheap) bookshelf hasn’t survived the move. Personally, I’ve sprained, strained, splintered, concussed, and bruised various parts of my body but somehow, miraculously, the only thing I’ve ever broken was a few fingernails (and possibly a toe, never got that checked). That doesn’t mean I haven’t known pain. It doesn’t mean I haven’t known fear. It just means I have been very, very lucky.
I remember being at my aunt’s house one time climbing her tree. I was up high enough that when the wind blew I was swaying multiple feet from side to side. I remember her coming out, looking up at me with her hand to her head protecting the sunlight. She has been known to yell and scold but not this time. You could hear the nervousness as she asked, voice cracking, for me to come down “a little bit very slowly.” I can imagine the visions of branches breaking and me crashing the thirty feet or so I was from the ground. I had no fear. I wasn’t very smart.
React: The fact is, we are fragile. We are weak things. Each of us has been physically, spiritually, mentally, and emotionally broken and patched up more than once. We are more than likely to need a few more patches before this life is done. It is a wonder that God would choose to house such a great treasure as Himself in such fragile vessels. But He does.
God, I’m not quite sure what You see in me sometimes. Of all the vessels You could use, of all the people You could indwell, that You would count me among that number baffles my mind. I’m just a broken and patched up vessel. I know it. You must know it even more. There is nothing in me of any worth… except You. Thank You for that.