The Vessel of Clay



      The Master was searching for a vessel to use. On the shelf there were many - which one would He choose?

      Take me cried the gold one. I’m shining and bright. And of great value; and I do things just right. My beauty and luster will outshine the rest For someone like you, Master, I would be the best.

      The Master passed on with no word at all He looked at a silver urn - narrow and tall. I’ll serve you dear Master and pour out your wine. I’ll be at your table whenever you dine. My lines are so graceful and my carving so true And silver would always compliment you.

      Unheeding - the Master passed on to the brass. It was wide mouthed and shining and polished like glass. Here! Here! cried the vessel, I know I will do Place me on your table for all men to view.

      Look at me cried the goblet of crystal so clear My transparency shows my contents so dear. Through fragile am I - I will serve you with pride And I’m sure I’d be happy in your house to abide.

      The Master came next to the vessel of wood, Polished and carved it solidly stood. You may use me dear Master, the wooden bowl said, But I’d rather you use me for fruit - please no bread.

      Then the master looked down and saw a vessel of clay, Empty and broken it helplessly lay No hope had the vessel that the Master might choose, To cleanse and make whole, to fill and to use. Aaah!

clay vessel

      This is the vessel I’ve been hoping to find. I will mend it and use it and make it all Mine! I need not the vessel with pride in itself, Nor the one so narrow who sits on the shelf. Not the one who is big mouthed and shallow and loud Or the one who displays it’s contents so proud. Not the one who thinks he can do all things just right But this plain earthen vessel filled with My power and might.

      Then gently He lifted the vessel of clay, Mended and cleansed it and filled it that day He spoke to it kindly, "There’s work you must do, You pour out to others and I’ll pour out to you."

Author Unknown

Related: Storytelling