Jar of Clay

2 Cor. 4:7-9 KJV “But we have this treasure in earthen vessels, that the excellency of the power may be of God, and not of us. We are troubled on every side, yet not distressed; we are perplexed, but not in despair: Persecuted, but not forsaken; cast down, but not destroyed;

ESV 7 “But we have this treasure in jars of clay, to show that the surpassing power belongs to God and not to us. 8 We are afflicted in every way, but not crushed; perplexed, but not driven to despair; 9 persecuted, but not forsaken; struck down, but not destroyed;”

While I prefer the KJVersion many find the ESV an easier read. That’s okay with me because I’m a fragile jar of clay spilling out the word. It is not mine to shape and twist for easier reading it is mine to pour out of my earthly vessel.

Many people fear the Word, the Light, the Love that God showers on the world. I find in this physical world that people embrace hate easier than they do love. Love makes people vulnerable. Love is an open wound and touching love brings forth pain. Like salt on a wound, your pain becomes visible to the world. Hiding behind hate and anger is so much easier.

So here I am, an open wound. I have a disease that has people curling up in fear, writhing in pain, losing all sense of self. This illness leaves many alone in a struggle with the only thing in their faces is fear.

Fear tried to afflict me in the earliest of days. I quickly turned to Light and Love and the entire perspective changed for me; I may have been struck down but I was not destroyed! I know quite a few friends asked where my strength comes from and I have to be honest, from the Holy Spirit residing in me, there can be no other place in me to hold such a magnitude of passion except this jar of clay.

Fear was strewn outside the vessel trying to shatter the fragility of the jar but I could not, I would not allow the hardened clay to be tapped by fear. I will not break because someone thinks they know what is better for me. I will defend my honor and hold fast the truth that is a vine climbing inside of me.

A Puritan they say, well praise be, if you think of that as an insult you’d be wrong, if you see the purity in me, you’d be right. A puritan, I’m honored. 
Puritan defined - a person who is strict in moral or religious matters, often excessively so.

I may be an excessive moral person, a strict spiritual person but I am not a religious person, but I like that about me. It surely doesn’t make me any better than you. I am not above anyone. I am a sinner who, if God doesn’t chastise me, I will correct myself. I’ve walked the rigid path, my bare feet scarred by the stones, glass penetrated me and I bled, but I am now healed and I want the world to know of this healing. Is that wrong in wanting to share the Light of the road less taken?

While a doctor tries to use fear, a browser tries to use dominance, people try to use doubt, God uses me to pour out all that’s in this vessel. I’m okay with that, I feel I have a purpose and it isn’t in the materialistic society. I have a Spirit filled with love and everything that entails. I share the love. Judge if you want, I’m okay with that too, if you have a problem with love then you need some deep thinking sessions to see what is missing in you.

I could say the weight of an illness is on my shoulders but no instead I feel the weight of the Lord pressing in on me to spill out all He has shown me. I’m a basin full of living water just waiting for someone to dip their fingers into, to wash their face. I want to share all that the Lord has shared with me. Is that wrong? Is that moral high ground?  

Though some look down on me trying hard to ignore the Light I bring to the table, I see you and it makes me love you all the more. I will not break, I will not shatter, I will not be swayed or inhibited by persecution. I will rise above this disease and look at it from afar, it will be buried in the chasm of my healing cells never to be seen of again.

My hope for the world is that more and more people will be brazen enough to step up to the plate and not be shamed for spreading the Word. But can I give you some advice? Don’t share the Word then turn around and shew forth hate, it kind of gives off a mixed message. There is no confusion where God is concerned. 

Onward Christian 

Rom. 10:17 “So then faith cometh by hearing, and hearing by the word of God.”

A Break... I'm Not Clay

Pss. 38:10 “My heart panteth, my strength faileth me: as for the light of mine eyes, it also is gone from me.”

A Break… I’m Not Clay

It is with great distress that I need to announce a break. Whether physically or mentally I know myself too well to stick around to watch the hellfires consume the people I love. I want to thank everyone from the bottom of my heart who has inspired me to continue writing. This year has been an active place of healing for me, and I thank you with love.

You’ve told me over and over again how I lift your spirits, how you love my honest writing, how it is I that inspires YOU when it is some of you that inspires ME! I look for that inspiration every day in my life but don’t always find it where I look. Am I looking in the wrong places? Apparently yes. 

Facebook is becoming a desert, a desolate place where vultures linger and seek to suck every bit of life out of one living cactus. I’m a very sensitive person to the point the tiniest pinprick causes me to burst in a way I’m not accustomed to. Sorry, I don’t play your little games of ‘popularity’. Games, that’s all it is behind your mask. Well, I’m not clay, you’re not going to shape me into a hater, racist pig. I see people thinking they’re helping by spreading hate but they are a part of the demolition crew that is destroying this world.

Whether it is in YouTube comments or Yahoo comments or on Facebook, the vultures feed off of the sensitivity and I cringe when I hear/read the battle cry of joy when they’ve doused the light of the one shining brightness in a darkened world. They enjoy seeing people in pain. It is some kind of sickness that they embrace and I totally need to step away, to breathe.

A reality hit me last week when I had the pleasure of listening to this tiny little twelve-year-old, Grace VanderWaal, sing her heart out. 

One of her songs went like this:
I don’t know my name
I don’t play by the rules of the game
So you say I’m just trying
Just trying… to find my way.

Another of her songs Clay was one of my favorites. It touched me in a place that not many long time experienced writers touch me and here was this little girl, thinking she couldn’t sing, taking the world by storm and marking her spot in history. The elite vultures are going to devour her and place the obstacles of fame and popularity on her doorstep and while she has loving parents to protect her, they can only do so much.

“Your silly words
I won't live inside your world 
Cause your punches and your names
All your jokes and stupid games
They don't hurt
No they don't hurt
Watch them just go right through me
Because they mean nothing to me

I'm not clay” 
~ 12-year-old singer/songwriter Grace VanderWaal lyrics 

Like me wanting to protect people from their harsh reality of prejudice, racism, bigotry and hypocritville, people fall victim day in and day out and there is no protector. Sure they claim they have God as a protector, but too many times I see them as food for the vultures more than I see the Living God in them. They are being devoured and I have a weak stomach for mangled flesh.

Yesterday my stomach churned as if I was on the Zipper at the fair. I watched a good movie but it wasn’t enough to help relieve the motion sickness I felt in my stomach for mankind. Satan is trying to attack me from every angle whether it is my son (who will be out of his new job in two months due to the store closing down) or my love of nature; my ceramic birdbath fell yesterday cracking like a clay vase falling from the thirteenth floor with irreparable damage. Then there is the loss of respect for friends I once admired and looked up to as they slither in the snake pit, now I only see a darkness shrouding their beings. It’s all too much for me to bear and TRY to be a positive light in these dark and solemn times. I need to re-energize.

Maybe a break will help. Maybe I’ll unplug the computer completely and just vanish in an air of shrouded mystery. Maybe a day or two will be enough or maybe I need more time, only time will tell, eh? I need to breathe and only my commitments will stay while I take a step back from virtual reality. It’s not and never was a nice fit for me. TO ME, the virtual world is a huge department store on Black Friday filled to capacity with nude mannequins. I see a human off in the distance but I’ll never reach them because the mannequins will topple on top of me and smother me to death.

When I feel the anger and negativity start to boil over like water left on the stove, and I begin to lash out with hatred in my veins I know it’s time for me to get away from that which sickens me. I won’t be molded and formed into the hate-filled people that seem to run the virtual society. People are vicious and they hold no shame. Me, I’m ashamed of this place. I need to breathe because I’m NOT CLAY!

Author's note: *
*sorry Mike, I tried to see the good in a damned world. 
* I'll continue writing, bookmark my blog 

Deuteronomy 31:6 KJV 

Be strong and of a good courage, 

fear not, nor be afraid of them: 

for the LORD thy God, 

he it is that doth go with thee; 

he will not fail thee, nor forsake thee.

Mistakes

Pss. 19: 12 “Who can understand his errors? cleanse thou me from secret faults.”

I’ve made quite a few mistakes, I’m sure we all have and usually ones that we have to live with the rest of our life, like it or not. Since I began writing, well no, since I began blogging, my paintbrush of mistakes is in vivid color here. I hold nothing back and my truth is my healing place.

Some people deal with their mistakes, some timidly live with them, some take the mistakes they made in life by the horns and wrestle them to the ground and shed them from their life never to be seen or heard from again. 

To me, mistakes we made in our past shouldn’t be forcefully thrown in our face so that we have to live with the pain on a daily basis. Some people don’t deal with their mistakes very well and they live in denial as if the mistake is a joy in their life, never to be admitted as a mistake, but the pain, the pain is so evident when people live in denial. 

One mistake I made, was not getting an abortion at 16 and spending nine agonizing months pregnant only to give birth to a stillborn child whose memory still haunts me to this day, some thirty-odd years later; then marrying the guy at 17 and spending 20 years of my formative life owning up to a pledge I had made more to God than my husband.

Looking back at my mistakes helps me to see God’s hand in shaping me. I was the clay and he was the potter molding me into the woman I am now. I don’t have regrets in the choices I made and some may say I’m in denial but really; the CHOICE was mine, an act of free will that God gave to us all. 

Isa. 64:8 “But now, O LORD, thou art our father; we are the clay, and thou our potter; and we all are the work of thy hand.”

Have you ever lived in a moment of should’ve, could’ve, would’ve? I normally don’t but as flashbacks come back to haunt me, writing about what could’ve been helps me for some odd reason. 

It helps me because with all of the looking back, I see myself exactly where I should be and any amount of changes in what ‘could’ve been’, only changes segments in the here and now. At this juncture, I would not want one thing to change. My pain and my suffering, (that of which no one understands except myself) is what helps me to be non- judgmental to others who are suffering through their own mistakes.

I do believe that our mistakes are little tools in our life that carve out who and what we become. I need to see that living with no regret is where my mind and body is supposed to be at this moment.

Job 19: 4 “And be it indeed that I have erred, mine error remaineth with myself.”

Mistakes should never be used to make people bend to your whim, they should be treated with the soft-skinned hands of a person who has grown and learned from their mistakes. A mistake can be seen as a work of art instead of a hold-over-your-head lifetime of remembrance.

I think what I’m trying to say in short is this: Mistakes are sometimes blessings in disguise. Not that they are rainbows and unicorns and should be seen as such but that they are clay and mistakes are what molded you.