Yet I know the Potter
Who doesn’t just take the broken shards
to put us back together
He begins with a whole new lump
and beckons us to live
LIFE on the Potter’s wheel
Not being fashioned
into what we desire
but into what He desires
A simple vessel of fired clay
to hold His broken body,
to hold His shed blood.

In the Potter’s hands,
I remain clay; and so do you.
Made anew to hold the treasure.
of the risen Christ
who has come within to dwell.