Ah, the hands of the potter...
Jeremiah: fairly simply leap from the potters concept to having a live potter on stage as the creative element.
The potter is a gal I know from another local church, who I met on the Human Trafficking Task Force. Her name is Brittany Tomick. She has been taking a pottery class and agreed to come help us out with this creative piece.
The poem was written in house by Milynda Foushee
If you would like to see and hear the element, you are able to find it at about min. 52:50 http://www.crosscurrent.org/media_player.asp?messageID=95780
(this is the first draft)
I wanted to spit deep rythms that changed minds
Stare deeply into the pupils of the Word and until I became an eloquent pupil that
Was able to expound on the deep preverbal notions written centuries ago
But I am not that deep
When I think about God changing me – I cringe
I cringe at the prospect of God’s hands molding me away from my old ways
Those old, familiar ways
I. Love. Me.
I love the fallacy of me
I love the pain of me
It is familiar
It is love – right?
I can’t live without it
I pray about it night and day “Lord, why in the world did you make me like this?”
And when I breathe…it overcomes my very being
Causing me to believe that I am in the reject pile – usable but just not beautiful
But this is the way that God made me right?
And yet, every time that I call out to Him – He is insistent on changing me
Can’t He just help me without changing me?
He takes this marred pot and begins to shape it into this … this vessel to be used by Him
Doesn’t He know who and what I am –
This marred, broken, bitter, fallen, hurt, ugly, rejected lump
He knows – right?
I try to warn Him
There are shards in this clay – they will cut through your hands like nails
But He keeps pulling and measuring me
Why choose this pain?
Doesn’t He know what this will feel like
Like a crown of thorns on thin skinned flesh
Like a whip that stays on a lover’s back for a few seconds too long
An ultimate sacrifice paid for a sinner
He is listening – right?
And yet He lovingly caresses me
Relentlessly pursues perfection in me
Endures the toughness of me
His tears smooth out my rough edges – revealing the true beauty of me
I want to melt in His hands
Be shaped by Him
Molded, caressed, touched, loved by Him
Pulled and measured by Him
He brings friction to my inner most being, causing me to change – sweetly – in the palm of His hand
This is love – right?
When I breathe – His love overcomes my very being
When I pray – I talk intimately with Him “Lord, I can’t believe you made me like this. Beautiful, full of joy, blessed and accepted.”
I can’t live without Him.
I think this is love
I cringe at the prospect of remaining the same as I was
So I surrender all just to be near Him
I love the pain of the molding
I. Love. Him
I am in love with Him
His love is deep and I want to dive in.
Your love for me rescued me
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