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)

Read: Job 34:1 – 36:33, 2 Corinthians 4:1-12, Psalm 44:1-8, Proverbs 22:10-12

Relate: I was climbing one of the cliffs at Letchworth State Park. It wasn’t the steepest cliff in that area, neither was it the tallest. It just looked like an area I had never climbed before. Now, when you are doing some serious climbing, you should always have three points anchored and only move one hand or foot at a time. I didn’t trust the grip on my right foot so as I was moving my left hand, my focus was there. I grabbed a rock with that hand only to have the thing come right off the cliff face. It slid down and landed on my left knee, leaving a killer bruise but also knocking that leg off the cliff. Suddenly, I was hanging on with only my right hand. I was only about twenty feet up, but that was plenty to do some serious damage had I fallen. Fortunately, I quickly recovered and continued on, but I really thought I was about to meet my maker. In my high school years, I had plenty of courage but absolutely no brains.

Going back a good decade or more before that, I used to go over to my aunt’s house many Sunday afternoons. She had this tree in her backyard that was perfect for climbing. I’m serious. If you close your eyes and dream up the perfect climbing tree… this is it. Of all the trees I have climbed in my lifetime, none came close to this one. The thing is, I liked to go as high as I could possibly get. My goal was to get so high that even the slightest change in the breeze would push me multiple feet in one direction or another. Every now and then I could hear my aunt calling out from the kitchen to get down. There was one time, however, when I must have really frightened her. I remember her walking out into the backyard looking up at me with one hand shielding the sunlight. In a voice almost shaking, she asked if I could please, very slowly and carefully climb down a few feet. I can imagine that she was picturing that thin branch I was swaying on snapping off and me falling a good thirty feet to my death. As a kid, I had plenty of courage but absolutely no brains.

I’ve been concussed, sprained, scraped, torn, battered and bruised. One summer when I was in Turkiye, I had mapped out a 600+km walk but had to cut it short just beyond the first hundred kilometers because of a sprained ankle. Even after only that small fraction of walking, my blisters had blisters. Literally. I had bruises on my waist and shoulders from the pack I was carrying. The back of my neck and my arms were sunburned to a beautiful candy-apple red. This body that God has given me has taken more than its fair share of beatings… but I have never been broken. Well, there was this one time when I probably broke my toe, but I never got it checked. What can they do for a toe anyway?

React: We are fragile things. I’ve spoken only about the physical but I could also just as easily share times and circumstances where I have emotionally, spiritually, or even mentally been battered, broken, and bruised. We all can. No matter what our background, each of us has experienced our share of pain, hurt, and heartache. We have all been broken and patched up more than we could wish. It is a wonder that God would choose to house such a great treasure as Himself in such fragile vessels. But He does.

Respond: 

Dear 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 Your chosen baffles my mind. I am fragile. I am 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.
Amen