Wednesday, May 16, 2007

The Parable of the Cracked Pot

A water bearer had two large pots, one hung on each end of a pole, which he carried across his neck. One of the pots had a crack in it, and while the other pot was perfect and always delivered a full portion of water.

At the end of the long walk from the stream to the master's house, the cracked pot always arrived only half full. For two years this went on daily, with the bearer delivering only one and a half pots full of water to his master's house. Of course, the perfect pot was proud of its accomplishments, fulfilled in the design for which it was made. But the poor cracked pot was ashamed of its own imperfection, and miserable that it was unable to accomplish what it had been made to do.

After two years of enduring this bitter shame, the pot spoke to the water bearer one day by the stream. "I am ashamed of myself and I apologize to you."

"Why?" asked the bearer.

"What are you ashamed of?"

"I have been able, for these past two years, to deliver only half my load because this crack in my side causes water to leak out all the way back to your master's house. Because of my flaws, you have to do all of this work, and you don't get full value from your efforts," the pot said.

The water bearer felt sorry for the old cracked pot, and in his compassion he said, "As we return to the master's house, I want you to notice the beautiful flowers along the path."

Indeed, as they went up the hill, the old cracked pot took notice of the sun warming the beautiful wild flowers on the side of the path, and was cheered somewhat. But at the end of the trail, it still felt the old shame because it had leaked out half its load, and so again the pot apologized to the bearer for its failure.

The bearer said to the pot, "Did you not notice that there were flowers only on your side of the path, and not on the other pot's side? That's because I have always known about your flaw, and I took advantage of it. I planted flower seeds on your side of the path, and every day while we've walked back from the stream, you've watered them. For two years I have been able to pick these beautiful flowers to decorate my master's table. Without you being just the way you are, he would not have this beauty to grace his house."

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I am a flawed clay jar. I carry around a love for God and a love for others in an unadorned clay pot of an ordinary life. That’s supposed to prevent anyone from putting me on a pedestal. It’s supposed to dissuade anyone from expecting perfection from another human being.

Still, it happens.

And we can only do the best we can do.

And people, including me, get hurt.

2 Corinthians 4:7-8, 16
7 But we have this treasure in jars of clay to show that this all-surpassing power is from God and not from us. 8 We are hard pressed on every side, but not crushed; perplexed, but not in despair; persecuted, but not abandoned; struck down, but not destroyed.

Maybe the most important part of all. . .for me and for those who are disappointed in me: 16 Therefore we do not lose heart.

Because the flowers along the side of the path are still there.

2 comments:

Tracy said...

Tanya,
Here's a message from your long lost cousin Tracy from Florida. I am in KY right now visiting my dad after his open heart surgery. He had me read your blog commentary about Gram--which left me smiling. I wish I had that memory of the lightning bugs. Maybe I wasn't there--losing a memory like that would be a crime. I guess as family life goes Trish and I weren't as connected as everyone else. I do have some great memories of my summers with Gramma, though. As I have read through many of your styff, I really find it sad that time and distance and life's weird ways have kept us "strangers." Maybe because we are both the first born in the same blood line, or maybe because we are just kindred spirits--I feel like we could have more than just a biological connection. I think mean people suck, I like to say bad words a little more than just occasionally (usually just to make a point), I like to save little critters an collect rocks, and laughing is one of my favorite things to do. I tried to e-mail this crackpot parable to my dad last week--because I think it just says it all. I thought that was a little ironic when I saw it was your most recent blog. Now that I know where you are, I'll come visit more often. I'll come swing with you on your fron porch. Thanks for being you!
Tracy

Anonymous said...

It feels my heart joy and soule with hope that GOD continues to work with each of you, and we all have had missed steps,lost oppertunity however its the journey that got you to this point, so watch your steps take advantage of your oppertunities and go in the direction GOD has planned for you.