Yet, I am rewarded each time I make it to church. The songs lift me. I walk to my seat, late, singing as I immediately feel worship. We have a great worship team. The sermon powerfully teaches me or touches me. Or like today, it was all that and someone that I don't often talk to, telling me they like my posts.
I am reading a book that is self published. It evokes sadness in me on many levels. First, as a memoir of a WWII POW, the intensity touches me. Second, the War(growing up it was the only War, it seemed)story reminds me of my parents, as the main character is in the Army Air Corps, like my father and David's father, and his brothers. Leon was in England like Irwin. I cry because their stories are lost with their absence, either in death or in their memory, like Dad Lyon's. Third, because the printing quality and the pictures are sub par. A story this powerful deserved editing and finer printing. Steven Spielberg did like the story, and I can see why.
|Irwin and Chase|
I was reminded this morning that we are all only clay vessels. I have felt the pushing down of my clay under the Potter's hand. And this morning, the Hand reached me and pulled my clay up. He reminded me this past week that is was I, who was asked questions about salvation out of the blue. I answered according to the book of Romans in a way He wanted me. I'm sure of that. The lady hardly knows me, yet, she put forth the question of Gandhi being in Heaven. I didn't take offense, but answered that still we need Jesus or otherwise, He didn't need to come to Earth. How God sees hearts on death's door is up to Him. I know Jesus is the only way to the Father, He said it, not me. No one can make it on their own. People who take Jesus name, often don't live like we think they should. Gandhi rejected the followers, not Jesus. The sermon's title today, "Not Ashamed of the Gospel," must be my way of life. My words may be in clay vessels but they must serve Jesus, too.
On this first Sunday of the new year, I rest, but don't sulk, like I did yesterday. I am renewed with my writing, my ideas and life. I do covet my readers' prayers again. As I hone my craft, to not be a hobby, as one close to me says, but for the transformation of my words in clay vessels to be used by God. And as such my life as well.