Vessels of Honor in the Hands of the King

On my desk sits a beautiful tiara, a constant reminder of God's healing power. A constant reminder of who God says that I am. A constant reminder of the price Jesus Christ paid to redeem me from the pit, wipe the life-stained grime off of me, and declare me His treasure. Me, an earthen vessel with no real value. Me, nothing special, just an ordinary kettle in the kitchen of the King.

How does one ever really grasp that? I am reminded of the large stainless steel pot I use to cook with while camping with our 7 grandchildren. I coat the entire outside with dish-soap before putting it on the fire. It has heated water for hot chocolate, loved by 7 pairs of licking lips. It has boiled potatoes for their favorite home-made "Grammie's Mashed Taters." It has created a warm steam on cool summer nights . . . perfect for warming hands, before climging into bed. It is my favorite pot! But, by the time it has seen daily use for a full week's camping, it looks like it might never be the same. It looks like it should be thrown away, not fit for further use. I find myself amazed time and time again, how clean that pot comes with just the slightest cleansing. Sometimes I have to scrape a little here and there, but the change that pot takes is so reminicent of my own life.

God uses my life in what may seem to me to be menial and trivial ways. Life right now feels daunting, confusing, and I'm left wondering . . . is there really any value in me at all??

The devil is all to quick to use others, even chief friends, to bring torment and pain. The devil will always find someone to speak through - when God wants me to listen to Him, the most. Just as I feel covered with grime, marred to the point of not being recognizable at all . . . comes the still small voice of power, of glory and of love, to whisper words of truth that help to vanish words of accusation.

The blood stained hands of my creator takes the ordinary, and turns it into something extraordinary. The power of the Holy Ghost breaths life into what feels dead and the dry bones of Ezekiel begins to come alive again. Jesus holds me in His hands, just an old kitchen kettle and declares that I am one of His most usable vessels. A vessel of honor!

Father God, hear my cry and render me usable. Restore to me the joy of my salvation. Restore to me what the moth has eaten and declare from the enemy, restoration 100-fold!

"Indeed the Lord has proclaimed to the end of the world: "Say to the daughter of Zion, 'surely your salvation is coming; behold, His reward is with Him and His work before him.'" And they shall call them the Holy People, the redeemed of the Lord; and you shall be called sought out. A city not forsaken." Isaiah 62:11-12