Fallen. Broken. Distorted I am.
Far from the girl I once was.
Curled on the dusty floor,
layered with soot and grime
layered with soot and grime
I lay helpless, unable to change.
Crunching glass caught my ear
I looked up to spy the last person
-the only person- I wished to see.
There HE was.
He looked at me with such compassion,
My broken body.
I cried with what feeling I had left…
I thought I was special.
Porcelain purity, blue eyes of faith,
China lips that spoke truth, and a silk dress of modesty.
I stood, displayed proudly in the window
And beamed upon those that came to the master’s house.
I was his girl.
But, O! Heart!
O fickle creature that I am!
I, tired of being set apart
O fickle creature that I am!
I, tired of being set apart
Resented the heart that bound me in love
I saw the other dolls being played with; enjoying their world
Their pleasures seemed innocent enough at the time.
Teetering on the edge between duty to HIM and to those I longed to be like.
I swayed, until the decision was made for me.
And then I fell.
I fell hard.
Broken. Yes broken is what I am
Mutilated beyond repair.
And he looked at me.
Just looked with the quietest, sad smile.
He picked me up and tried to find all my pieces
Most were there, though some were badly chipped.
He pricked his hands and cemented me to his heart with blood.
Warm blood that never gets cold.
Piece by piece I was made whole again.
The master found another dress for me to wear,
Though one not nearly as pretty.
My glass eyes shone again, and my pretty lips spoke truth once more.
The master placed me in a different window,
Not quite as sunny, but still…. Heaven.
Praise God that innocence grows back.
“But in a great house there are not only vessels of gold and of silver, but also of wood and of earth; and some to honour, and some to dishonour. If a man therefore purge himself from these, he shall be a vessel unto honour, sanctified, and meet for the master's use, [and] prepared unto every good work.”
II Timothy 2: 20 – 21
I actually wrote this... analogy? back in January of 2007. I had just been through some of the deepest period of sin in my life, and was still reeling from the guilt of hurt I'd caused others and the rift in my relationship with God. My dad preached a sermon when I was little about the different types of vessels in the house of God. He told me that there are lots of vessels in a house... some are of the highest honor - like my mom's blue china plates she'd gotten for her wedding - and some for dishonor - like the toilet scrubber bowl. Both have uses in our house, but which would you rather be?
In the house of God, the kind of filth we immerse ourselves in dictates our own place of honor in His house. How can God show off a vessel which is obviously tainted with refuse? Yet... the Bible goes on to say in II Tim. 2:21 that if a man purge himself (from dishonourable acts) that he can be sanctified and restored to a position of honor. That's why I said that innocence grows back. Because though we may have fallen into filth, Christ has returned to claim us for his own and "by his wounds we are healed."
In the house of God, the kind of filth we immerse ourselves in dictates our own place of honor in His house. How can God show off a vessel which is obviously tainted with refuse? Yet... the Bible goes on to say in II Tim. 2:21 that if a man purge himself (from dishonourable acts) that he can be sanctified and restored to a position of honor. That's why I said that innocence grows back. Because though we may have fallen into filth, Christ has returned to claim us for his own and "by his wounds we are healed."
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