Cracked Jar

I am a lover of music and song. Although I cannot carry a tune in any bucket (or in this case jar) I love to sing. Being hearing impaired, I cannot hear the music as others hear it, but I can hear some of it. My senses are little more refined…I feel it and sense it as it moves across the floor to my feet and up to the core of my inner being. It becomes a part of me as I move and sway to a beat that no one else can “hear”. I cannot always understand the words, so I love having them in front, on the wide screen for me to see.

Every worship service touches me in a different way. I can be exuberant with lots of energy and filled with incredible praise. I can be pensive, singing quietly and thanking God for all He has done in the past week, month, years. I cry often. Some Sunday’s, I am so moved by the whole ambiance of the service: the beautiful music, the incredible voices all around me, and the words that reverberates in my heart and soul…I can only stand and do nothing but close my eyes and listen.

This past Sunday during our worship time, in the darkened sanctuary, we sang:

May the words of my mouth and the thoughts of my heart
Bless Your name, bless Your name, Jesus
And the deeds of the day and the truth in my ways
Speak of You, speak of You, Jesus

For this is what I'm glad to do
It's time to live a life of love that pleases You
And I will give my all to You
Surrender everything I have and follow You
I'll follow You

Lord, will You be my vision, Lord, will You be my guide
Be my hope, be my light and the way
And I'll look not for riches, nor praises on earth
Only You'll be the first of my heart

I sang…..loving the song, pondering the words, believing that my words, thoughts, deeds and most of all, my surrendering everything is what I desire and what I live each day.

Monday morning came and my office is the furthest thing from a quiet, darkened sanctuary filled with like-minded people singing praises to God. A report did not come across, a client called and loudly expressed his unhappiness, an e-mail popped up asking why I had forgotten to take care of something, a member of my team was off for her birthday, the heat was not working AGAIN and I had a raging cold starting to take over my nose, throat and chest.

I started stewing, I started murmuring, and my disposition fell into my chest just like my cold. It did not last long …because all of the sudden, the memory of yesterday’s worship…the words of this song came to my mind…and all I could do was hang my head in utter shame. I excused myself, took a small walk to the foyer and asked God to forgive me and help me.

I went back to my desk, found the lyrics on the Web, printed them out with a little boarder and tacked them on my message board for me to see.

I confess I am a flawed human being. I admit I sin in someway(s) every day. I do not always do the things I want to do and do the very things I do not want to. I have to face it…I am a cracked jar of clay.

That is the wonder and mystery of God and His love for me. He says in
2 Corinthians 4:6 and 7

For God, who said, "Let light shine out of darkness," made his light shine in our hearts to give us the light of the knowledge of the glory of God in the face of Christ.
But we have this treasure in jars of clay to show that this all-surpassing power is from God and not from us.

I may be cracked….but I am still HIS jar of clay…and He has shown me in so many ways over the years that it is Christ’s light that shines in my heart. It is nothing that I have gleaned on my own…it is Christ and Christ alone. When God looks at me, He sees the face of Christ…not my imperfections. That in spite of how badly I may behave at times…the treasure of this light, this knowledge, this glory of God, this Savior Christ is in me, God’s jar of clay….an earthen vessel…cracked and all.

God knows my weaknesses and my imperfections. When I go to Him to help me, He never disappoints me. He always offers a way of escape so that I may pass over the temptation to sin. I never know what it will be, a note from a friend, a scripture I read during my quiet times, a phone call, a look from my husband, a message from a pastor on the radio, a vision of consequences or a memory of how God helped me before.

This time it was a song…a beautiful song that filled in a small part of the crack with the holy and righteous mortar of God.