I wanted to play cricket, but
wasn’t any good.
And so I tried out rugby, as
every young man should.
But I was not successful. I think
I was too slow;
And all that happened with the
ball, I really didn’t know.
And so I turned to boxing and
thought I might excel.
I hoped that I’d be on my
feet until the final bell.
With Judo and athletics the outcome
was the same.
And then It dawned upon me;
sport never was my game.
I’m not a Graeme Pollock or a Montgomery.
I’ll never be a Springbok that doesn’t
work for me.
At sport I’m very average. I’ll
never pass that test.
The only thing that I can say
is that I did my best.
A vessel of great honour in sport
I’ll never be.
My only contribution, perhaps a
referee?
There’s northing wrong with
average. It’s not silver or gold.
Perhaps is more like wood or
clay; at least that’s what I’m told.
And so I started to play chess. I had
a thought in mind,
For awesome mental challenges. But
that too was unkind.
The subject I was best at was
digging in God’s Word.
This made my fellow classmates
decide I was a nerd.
Perhaps I’d be a minister; perhaps
a Catholic Priest.
But since I’m not a Catholic it
attracted me the least.
The question of a calling was also
in my mind.
I wasn’t even certain that I
could be that kind.
But looking back upon it and how I
messed about,
It seems to me a miracle that
everything worked out.
For what I hadn’t realised was God
was in control.
That He was the director of
what happened to my soul.
A vessel He would make of me; of
silver or of gold.
Of wood or clay; of honour; or useless
to behold.
A very strange utensil; a sort of
melting pot,
Selected for His purposes of
making sinners hot!
The point is, it is righteousness
our Holy God requires.
He uses pots, the likes of me,
to stoke up cleansing fires.
We may or may not like it. But
that’s beside the point.
He wants to bring His cleansing
fire to every bone and joint.
It is so fascinating to see Him
shape the clay.
He moulds it into any shape
that He decides that day.
A vessel made for honour or just
utility;
It’s how the clay flows in His
hands dictates what it will be.
If we will just cooperate, we’re
clad with priceless gold.
If not we’re just another pot
that could be bought and sold.
But what denotes its value? The
silver or the clay?
It’s only when it’s being used
it gives the game away.
The valuable metals by Jesus will
be used.
While those made out of wood or
clay, He’ll not so often choose.
Jim Strickland –
written Friday, 30 September 2011
