Poetry

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IN THE POTTER'S HOUSE - Tega Samuel

There I go again
Splat! On the Potter's wheel
Scattered all over the place.
I have tried, time and again
To be moulded and shaped
By the loving hands of the great Potter.
I want to be holy! I want to be pure!
Full of zeal, full of fire
A channel of blessing, a river of mercy.

But ouch!
Don't put your finger there, Lord!
It hurts too much!
Must you really touch
That habit of mine?
I guess in your sight
It is such a blight.
But Lord, I confess
In it I delight.

Em...I hate to dictate -
But Lord, stay your hand
For I truly can't stand
Your dealings with me.
Please just let me be.
I want to be free...


So lovingly, He let me be
And put me on a shelf to stay
To rest from His dealings
To be free from His pruning.
For sometime I've been here
Sitting on this shelf, watching Him work
On various other vessels.

Day after day
I've squirmed and I've cringed
As He bent and He squeezed
Pummelled and straightened
Prodded and pricked
Sharpened and perfected
The vessels surrendered.
And oh! I must admit
It's good to submit.

How beautiful those vessels turned out to be!
They are not on the shelf, oh no not at all!
Ambassadors of the Potter
That's what they are.
They show forth His glory
His great workmanship
Their lives are more blessed
Than mine on this shelf.

Em...that reminds me Lord -
I think it's my turn: my turn to be made
COME GET ME OFF THIS SHELF!
I beg you Lord, I pray.

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