the small vessel..

~”A small vessel in the hand of the Magnificent Potter”~

That’s what I usually put up in the description section on my social network/blog site. The reason behind it?

Ever since I opened my heart to Jesus back in 2005, I’ve had this impression that starting from that moment, my life will function like a bowl, or a vessel, to receive and hold whatever blessings and revelations He’s kindly giving me, and to pour them back out when the time has come, i.e. when the bowl/vessel is brimming to its full capacity.

I think I did draw some pictures of those vessels, but pretty sure the drawings would be an epic fail because I’m just HOPELESS at drawing. They were there merely to serve the purpose, to remind me of what I receive, and to keep everything on track. And then this particular vessel came into my mind, on this one, cold Melbourne night when I was chatting with Daddy.

It’s made of clay, it’s brownish red. At first the vessel looks pretty normal. It’s fat on the bottom part before it goes slightly larger before going slimmer all the way to its neck, as it expands for a bit into a shape of an opening.

Okay, I said, that’s a pretty normal vessel, Lord.

Then He zoomed in on the neck of the vessel, as it appeared to grow narrower and narrower that it was almost impossible to draw water from the opening afterwards, because the neck was simply too thin for anything inside the vessel to come out easily.

Now that’s one faulty vessel, I responded. You’d either have to be a super patient person to draw water from that pot or you have to make a hole (a bigger one, of course) or maybe smash it so you’ll get to the liquid inside quickly.

Now here’s what He shared to me,
My life is just like that small, fat vessel. Empty in the beginning, God as the Potter slowly fills my life with His goodness and love and joy while slowly shaping the clay into the ‘body’ of the vessel.


This post was last edited on August 20, 2010, at 4.50pm. I would have been back home in Surabaya,  counting down the days when I would get to see Andrew again in a month time.

And I can still remember why I couldn’t finish this piece. It was the fear of the reality of my purpose. Let me try to continue.

As God continues to fill me up with His goodness and kindness, it starts to reach to the brim. And that is when God will start to ask me to give. At first it is doable to draw the water out of the vessel, though the hole is a bit narrow. But the time will come when I will be required to give more, and I will give out of my brokenness. The vessel will be broken, and shattered to allow more water to pour out.

That is such an apt description of how I live my life. I am so worried about a lot of things I will think of myself first. I will make sure I will be okay first, before I will open my heart to give to others. This is how God teaches me to be compassionate. I honestly dread that word, it requires humility and sacrifice, and I am not big on those two. Breaking the vessel, and thus breaking my heart and my will to serve others is going to be God’s way to train me as His daughter. I know full well that I will suffer, and I pray that I will form a new habit, a holy one, so His purpose will shine through me.

 

do not fear.

You have two choices

The way I see it, you have only two choices:

  1. You can spend your days dreaming of a better life.
  2. Or you can do the messy work of taking your dream to the world.

You can sit around, playing the what-if game, or you can start saying, “Let’s.”

Right now, your dream is perfect. Safe and comfortable, it’s untouched by your dirty, human hands. Stuffed in a box on a shelf, it’s tucked away — far from the world it’s supposed to change.

Here’s the truth: you’re squandering your passion. For sake of personal comfort and fear of messing up your calling, you’re robbing the world of a gift — your dream.

Is it worth the cost?

 taken from  ‘How to Stop Dreaming & Start Living‘ by Jeff Goins.

I fear a lot of things. Petrified by things tangible and intangible. Frightened by unpredictable existence. I fear height, sometimes darkness, death, and failing.

Fear cripples you. It has crippled me for some times. It slaps a big ‘no’ to ‘maybe’, however silly ‘maybe’ might sound. It labels ‘impossible’ to dreams, however improbable they are. It squeezes out the good juice out of the fruit and leave it to die, rotten, left out.

My fear hinders me towards my freedom. The freedom to do things that I know I am supposed to do, things I am called to do, to bear. I fear that once I dip my feet into the trial, it will be messy, it may not work, I might have to work really really hard for it happen, and there’s no going back. The dream may not be so perfect anymore.

Gently, God asked me, “but who gave you those dreams in the first place? Who gave that desire to pour your heart and soul into words and lines, and melodies?”. It sure wasn’t me, Father. Surely it was all from You. But these ‘what if?’ questions.

What if I failed?
What if I don’t do it as I am supposed to?
What if it’s not perfect?
What if people laugh at me and think that I’m stupid and weird?

God, the Creator of night and day, the sky and the mountains and the seas, wrapped a tiny, perfect seed of dream and placed it in my heart, into my imperfect life. His dreams, His desire, His plans. All that I need to do is to believe, and take the step. He, who could actually do all that He has put in my heart so easily, chose to trust me in all my weaknesses to do them. For Him. For His friends, His children. Not for my gain, not for my benefit, but so that His plans are delivered. These tiny bulb of dreams of His, placed in the hearts of His children, what would happen to them when they are fed with faith and trust?

Fear robs you off your freedom, off your joy, your destiny, His plan. The fear of the possibility of you failing, or the fear of you succeeding thus the demand to work harder to keep you there. Just as faith is believing the unseen, fear is also believing the unseen, the false.


this post was last edited on April 15, 2012. I wish I would’ve finished this piece, I would love to know what was on my mind that made me poured my heart out like this. I am still a little weary sometimes, and maybe I have been letting the daily mundane buoyed me to exercise my duty. And how I wish I would take courage and continue to write and sing.

Not all is lost. I still have breath within me, I can still do this. This little flicker of dream and purpose is still here in my heart, I can feel it. I only have to remember to feed it with faith and trust. Lord help my unbelief.