Coconut
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- Feb 17, 2005
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"I saw Jesus the other day living in a spastic body, sitting in a wheelchair, but there was no mistaking His beauty."
A Treasure In A Cracked Clay Pot
By Lori West
I want to share with you a little of my life story. Mine is a story of God's amazing grace (with a little humor thrown in.) Like every story there has to be a time and a place where the plot unfolds. The year was 1958. (Now I've done what very few women like to do! I've given away my age.) The setting was a small village in Newfoundland. The event: the birth of a tenth child, a baby girl.
At the time of my birth dad had already fallen ill; he died just two days after my ninth birthday. I see no point in going into detail, so let me just say this: Having been born into a family where I wasn't wanted, the pain of abuse and rejection and the longing to be loved caused me to develop a strong will and determination to survive. These characteristics have been at times a great asset, and at times my greatest detriment.
Second Corinthians 4:7-9 resonates with me. "But we have this treasure in jars of clay to show that this all-surpassing power is from God and not from us. We are hard pressed on every side, but not crushed. Perplexed, but not in despair. Persecuted, but not abandoned. We may be struck down, but we are not destroyed." Let me tell you I am not a woman with great faith. I am a woman with simple faith in a great God. Over the years I've come to learn that the measure of my faith has very little to do with God's response to his working in my life.
Have you ever felt trapped by the circumstances of life? Are you wondering how you can ever move ahead and get out from under the dark cloud of depression?
Maybe your castle crumbled the day death stole someone you loved who you thought was yours forever. Or maybe the breakup of a relationship has left you soured by bitterness. Perhaps you lost your job and with that loss went your earthly security. Or it could be you were diagnosed with a physical ailment, for which there is no known cure, that has robbed you of hopes and dreams for the future. I imagine most of us feel at some time like a "broken" jar of clay, hardly something fit to hold a treasure!
I've already alluded to my beginnings. Let me give you a brief overview and a glimpse into my past. I was born into a home that did not have many of the conveniences that most people would deem the bare necessities of life. I would argue, though, that the only true essential our home lacked was love. You can have a home without running water; you can have a home without indoor plumbing. Believe it or not, you can live in a home without a telephone, and survive. But try as hard as you will, you cannot survive in a home without love.
Experience has taught me to value and appreciate the gifts I am given, while at the same time to hold them loosely. Possessions, health, family, and friendships can be gone at the wink of an eye.
My life has been riddled with losses that have left me feeling like a broken clay jar: the untimely death of a dad whom I dearly loved; the pain of being physically, emotionally, and sexually abused as a child; being forced to leave home at the age thirteen. Now I face the daily challenges of living with a debilitating illness characterized by chronic pain from intertwining muscles. This "illness" is robbing me of mobility and seeks to silence my voice. Complications from this disease have already made several attempts to snuff out my life. Living on "the edge" makes me ever aware of my own mortality.
Despite a difficult childhood I managed to conceal the cracks in my jar. Then in the late 1980s this jar of clay became noticeably cracked when the disease, familial spastic dysplegia, struck with a vengeance and changed my life forever. I have a choice to make every day. I can allow Jesus' love to shine through this broken body, my jar of clay. Or I can dwell on the cracks in my jar, feel sorry for myself, and allow all the joy to run out of the cracks, leaving me an empty, broken vessel.
I don't pretend to understand or appreciate the course my life has taken. Having said that, over time I've come to realize that sometimes Jesus chooses to live in a broken pot to allow his light to shine through and to help us recognize we need each other. I need you; your physical strength and abilities enable me. But you need me too, to remind you of God's grace in difficult circumstances.
Please understand that I'm not saying it's easy to let Jesus shine through a cracked or broken jar. I'd be lying if I said I'm thankful for the pain, and I certainly can't say I enjoy having this disease and the restrictions it imposes upon me. But I can truthfully say I am glad and thankful to God for the things I've learned as a result of my challenges. I'm learning a greater appreciation for life, and for the abilities I do have. I realize that any ability I have, even the ability to brush my own teeth or comb my own hair, is a gift and not a right. We should never take our abilities for granted.
Please listen carefully to the next statement I will make; hear it well for it's not something I say flippantly but have thought long and hard before I dared say it. If I had the choice of being strong and healthy and following Christ from afar, or having the physical restrictions I have today and knowing the reality of Christ in my life, I'd rather be the way I am. Difficulties in life bring a greater awareness of the need for Christ on a moment-by-moment basis.
We cannot spend our life bemoaning yesterday's shattered dreams or waiting for tomorrow's lucky break; we have to value what we have and are today. Don't allow life's obstacles to hinder your progress, or render you useless, but take what you have left and make something good from it. Pain is inevitable, but misery is optional, says author and speaker Barbara Johnston, and I'm inclined to agree with her.
While I am fully aware that my past has impacted who I am today-both the positive attributes and the not-so-nice characteristics-I am not a victim of my past. I understand that my mom was a mentally disturbed woman, and although we never reconciled before her death in 1987, I have forgiven her. I still bear scars, but the deep pain is gone. There is nothing that I can do that will ever change my upbringing; I can never turn back the calendar or erase the abuse. And only a miracle from the hand of God can make this disease reverse its course; in all probability, my speech is garbled for the rest of my days. But I do have a wheelchair that helps me walk; I have a voice synthesizer that helps me talk. I can still work every day; I have friends; I have value and I love life. Perhaps my situation wouldn't classify as ideal, but, I awaken most mornings (unless I'm feeling sorry for myself and having a pity party) thanking God that I have the privilege of seeing one more sunrise.
Joy isn't found in having parents or a spouse who loves us; it isn't found in being strong and healthy, or in having a picture-perfect body. Nor is it found in being an academic success or climbing the corporate ladder. Joy and contentment are not found in possessing a beautiful home or vehicle. If these were the conduits of joy, I'd have missed out.
True joy comes when you know whose you are, when you believe in what you're doing, and when you learn to accept who you are: a jar of clay. It comes in being willing to use what you are to hold life's greatest treasure, and allowing the treasure to shine through your life.
True peace comes when we learn to see Jesus living not only in jars polished and whole, but also in our cracked jars-when we can see Christ in a jar battling cancer or depression, or in a jar that's wearied and tarnished by years of service. I saw Jesus the other day living in a spastic body, sitting in a wheelchair, but there was no mistaking His beauty.
Throughout my life God has proven to be trustworthy. How confident are you in your God? Can you trust your life into his care? There may be times when you feel your faith is under siege. The situation seems hopeless. Let me remind you: Faith is easy when you're up on the mountain and you've got peace of mind like you've never known. Things change when you're down in the valley. But don't lose faith-you're never alone. For the God of the mountain is still God in the valley, and the God of the day is still God in the night.
Let me reassure you from the pages of Scripture, that Christ laid aside the glories of heaven. He became a man of sorrows and today makes his home in jars of clay to show that this all-surpassing power is from God and not from us. There are times when we pray for a miracle, but circumstances may not change; things may not work out the way we want them to. The cost may be tremendous, but God has promised that his grace is sufficient.
I have shared briefly my yesterdays and my today, but what about my tomorrows? What does tomorrow hold for me? Like you, I don't know for certain. From a medical perspective the prognosis looks bleak at best. But whatever it holds I know that I'll make it-not because I consider myself strong, emotionally or physically, but because I have a treasure in this broken jar. I know the source of my strength. I sit before you as living proof of that strength made perfect in weakness. Am I ready for what tomorrow will hold for me? No, but I will be when tomorrow comes.
I want to encourage you, when days are dark and you are discouraged and perhaps you feel isolated and helpless for the task at hand. With God by your side, pick up the shattered dreams, disappointments, discouragement, the broken promises, and give them to Jesus. Mourn your losses but don't wallow in the valley of indecision and defeat; live your life as a monument to the living God. He is more than adequate to meet our needs and gives hope for a hopeless situation. May God help us all to finish well the life he's called us to.
A Treasure In A Cracked Clay Pot
By Lori West
I want to share with you a little of my life story. Mine is a story of God's amazing grace (with a little humor thrown in.) Like every story there has to be a time and a place where the plot unfolds. The year was 1958. (Now I've done what very few women like to do! I've given away my age.) The setting was a small village in Newfoundland. The event: the birth of a tenth child, a baby girl.
At the time of my birth dad had already fallen ill; he died just two days after my ninth birthday. I see no point in going into detail, so let me just say this: Having been born into a family where I wasn't wanted, the pain of abuse and rejection and the longing to be loved caused me to develop a strong will and determination to survive. These characteristics have been at times a great asset, and at times my greatest detriment.
Second Corinthians 4:7-9 resonates with me. "But we have this treasure in jars of clay to show that this all-surpassing power is from God and not from us. We are hard pressed on every side, but not crushed. Perplexed, but not in despair. Persecuted, but not abandoned. We may be struck down, but we are not destroyed." Let me tell you I am not a woman with great faith. I am a woman with simple faith in a great God. Over the years I've come to learn that the measure of my faith has very little to do with God's response to his working in my life.
Have you ever felt trapped by the circumstances of life? Are you wondering how you can ever move ahead and get out from under the dark cloud of depression?
Maybe your castle crumbled the day death stole someone you loved who you thought was yours forever. Or maybe the breakup of a relationship has left you soured by bitterness. Perhaps you lost your job and with that loss went your earthly security. Or it could be you were diagnosed with a physical ailment, for which there is no known cure, that has robbed you of hopes and dreams for the future. I imagine most of us feel at some time like a "broken" jar of clay, hardly something fit to hold a treasure!
I've already alluded to my beginnings. Let me give you a brief overview and a glimpse into my past. I was born into a home that did not have many of the conveniences that most people would deem the bare necessities of life. I would argue, though, that the only true essential our home lacked was love. You can have a home without running water; you can have a home without indoor plumbing. Believe it or not, you can live in a home without a telephone, and survive. But try as hard as you will, you cannot survive in a home without love.
Experience has taught me to value and appreciate the gifts I am given, while at the same time to hold them loosely. Possessions, health, family, and friendships can be gone at the wink of an eye.
My life has been riddled with losses that have left me feeling like a broken clay jar: the untimely death of a dad whom I dearly loved; the pain of being physically, emotionally, and sexually abused as a child; being forced to leave home at the age thirteen. Now I face the daily challenges of living with a debilitating illness characterized by chronic pain from intertwining muscles. This "illness" is robbing me of mobility and seeks to silence my voice. Complications from this disease have already made several attempts to snuff out my life. Living on "the edge" makes me ever aware of my own mortality.
Despite a difficult childhood I managed to conceal the cracks in my jar. Then in the late 1980s this jar of clay became noticeably cracked when the disease, familial spastic dysplegia, struck with a vengeance and changed my life forever. I have a choice to make every day. I can allow Jesus' love to shine through this broken body, my jar of clay. Or I can dwell on the cracks in my jar, feel sorry for myself, and allow all the joy to run out of the cracks, leaving me an empty, broken vessel.
I don't pretend to understand or appreciate the course my life has taken. Having said that, over time I've come to realize that sometimes Jesus chooses to live in a broken pot to allow his light to shine through and to help us recognize we need each other. I need you; your physical strength and abilities enable me. But you need me too, to remind you of God's grace in difficult circumstances.
Please understand that I'm not saying it's easy to let Jesus shine through a cracked or broken jar. I'd be lying if I said I'm thankful for the pain, and I certainly can't say I enjoy having this disease and the restrictions it imposes upon me. But I can truthfully say I am glad and thankful to God for the things I've learned as a result of my challenges. I'm learning a greater appreciation for life, and for the abilities I do have. I realize that any ability I have, even the ability to brush my own teeth or comb my own hair, is a gift and not a right. We should never take our abilities for granted.
Please listen carefully to the next statement I will make; hear it well for it's not something I say flippantly but have thought long and hard before I dared say it. If I had the choice of being strong and healthy and following Christ from afar, or having the physical restrictions I have today and knowing the reality of Christ in my life, I'd rather be the way I am. Difficulties in life bring a greater awareness of the need for Christ on a moment-by-moment basis.
We cannot spend our life bemoaning yesterday's shattered dreams or waiting for tomorrow's lucky break; we have to value what we have and are today. Don't allow life's obstacles to hinder your progress, or render you useless, but take what you have left and make something good from it. Pain is inevitable, but misery is optional, says author and speaker Barbara Johnston, and I'm inclined to agree with her.
While I am fully aware that my past has impacted who I am today-both the positive attributes and the not-so-nice characteristics-I am not a victim of my past. I understand that my mom was a mentally disturbed woman, and although we never reconciled before her death in 1987, I have forgiven her. I still bear scars, but the deep pain is gone. There is nothing that I can do that will ever change my upbringing; I can never turn back the calendar or erase the abuse. And only a miracle from the hand of God can make this disease reverse its course; in all probability, my speech is garbled for the rest of my days. But I do have a wheelchair that helps me walk; I have a voice synthesizer that helps me talk. I can still work every day; I have friends; I have value and I love life. Perhaps my situation wouldn't classify as ideal, but, I awaken most mornings (unless I'm feeling sorry for myself and having a pity party) thanking God that I have the privilege of seeing one more sunrise.
Joy isn't found in having parents or a spouse who loves us; it isn't found in being strong and healthy, or in having a picture-perfect body. Nor is it found in being an academic success or climbing the corporate ladder. Joy and contentment are not found in possessing a beautiful home or vehicle. If these were the conduits of joy, I'd have missed out.
True joy comes when you know whose you are, when you believe in what you're doing, and when you learn to accept who you are: a jar of clay. It comes in being willing to use what you are to hold life's greatest treasure, and allowing the treasure to shine through your life.
True peace comes when we learn to see Jesus living not only in jars polished and whole, but also in our cracked jars-when we can see Christ in a jar battling cancer or depression, or in a jar that's wearied and tarnished by years of service. I saw Jesus the other day living in a spastic body, sitting in a wheelchair, but there was no mistaking His beauty.
Throughout my life God has proven to be trustworthy. How confident are you in your God? Can you trust your life into his care? There may be times when you feel your faith is under siege. The situation seems hopeless. Let me remind you: Faith is easy when you're up on the mountain and you've got peace of mind like you've never known. Things change when you're down in the valley. But don't lose faith-you're never alone. For the God of the mountain is still God in the valley, and the God of the day is still God in the night.
Let me reassure you from the pages of Scripture, that Christ laid aside the glories of heaven. He became a man of sorrows and today makes his home in jars of clay to show that this all-surpassing power is from God and not from us. There are times when we pray for a miracle, but circumstances may not change; things may not work out the way we want them to. The cost may be tremendous, but God has promised that his grace is sufficient.
I have shared briefly my yesterdays and my today, but what about my tomorrows? What does tomorrow hold for me? Like you, I don't know for certain. From a medical perspective the prognosis looks bleak at best. But whatever it holds I know that I'll make it-not because I consider myself strong, emotionally or physically, but because I have a treasure in this broken jar. I know the source of my strength. I sit before you as living proof of that strength made perfect in weakness. Am I ready for what tomorrow will hold for me? No, but I will be when tomorrow comes.
I want to encourage you, when days are dark and you are discouraged and perhaps you feel isolated and helpless for the task at hand. With God by your side, pick up the shattered dreams, disappointments, discouragement, the broken promises, and give them to Jesus. Mourn your losses but don't wallow in the valley of indecision and defeat; live your life as a monument to the living God. He is more than adequate to meet our needs and gives hope for a hopeless situation. May God help us all to finish well the life he's called us to.
