An Empty Pot

Often I find myself spinning around in an endless cycle of unsuspecting events that I thought that would change me.

I thought I way driven by my emotions all along. I thought I could get what I want all the time. I thought Francis Bacon was right when he said 'I think therefore I am'.

I was awfully wrong.

Time is fleeting. I can only be once of who I am in a moment. One moment pass and it's nothing. One 'me' pass and there's another 'me' coming.

I can only be young once, child once, alive once, do this thing and that once. And when eveything is over, nothing ever remains.

This then is the truth that was so elusive to me: That someone, a Master of the Universe, one not bound in time and decay, is holding me together. I can only see what I can, feel what I can, and perceive what I can. Someone out there sees everything, knows everything and feels everything.

I realised what I have been doing was moving in ways that I want like a stubborn piece of clay. The hands of God were guiding to a shape He desires, but I kept on moving. He never gave up though I bacame as hard as rock. He broke me, melted me in fire and molded me again.

He wanted to shape me into the image of His Son. Now I'm an empty piece of pot; an artwork only He knows what; a tool ready to be used in His own time and purpose.