fearfully made

Posted: October 1st, 2009 | Filed under: God, life | Tags: , | 9 Comments »

Clay doesn’t talk back to the fingers that mold it, saying, “Why did you shape me like this?” Isn’t it obvious that a potter has a perfect right to shape one lump of clay into a vase for holding flowers and another into a pot for cooking beans? If God needs one style of pottery especially designed to show his angry displeasure and another style carefully crafted to show his glorious goodness, isn’t that all right? -Romans 9:20-24

cupped me in His hands

a small ball of clay.

He was Creator

and this was my day.

rolling and stretching

‘tween finger and thumb

i couldn’t wait to

see what I’d become.

He worked with delight

hands moving in pace.

if i had to guess

i think i’m a vase.

when He was all done

i thought i’d be sick.

what dainty flower

wants a vase so thick?

I started my life

and got knocked around.

He made me so strong

but i felt let down.

life was a battle

for this little vase.

i searched high and low

to find my right place.

cried to the Potter

‘why make me like this?

no paint for my skin

no flower to kiss.’

life carried on and

i started to chip.

my shell had grown weak.

hope started to slip.

still, i was a vase

He made me this way

love for the Potter

made all this okay.

finally found a way

to fit in the crowd.

i may be damaged

but still, i was proud.

flowers would find me

and i’d give them stay.

i was content ’till

that one fateful day.

i got so careless

with my noble place.

i thought i was strong

so i didn’t brace.

i toppled over

and spilled my whole store.

flew off the table

and crashed on the floor.

splintered pottery

is what i’d become.

scared of the Potter

who’s work i’d undone.

He came, picked me up

and studied my face.

“i’m sorry,” i cried.

“i’ve ruined your vase.”

He smiled at me.

“how can you be sure?”

He said, “this day’s what

I’ve been waiting for.”

i was so fragile

and i had grown faint

He carried me to

the place where He paints

I finally woke up

to glimpse at myself

no longer a vase

to sit on His shelf.

i was now painted

but still full of cracks.

i can’t hold water.

life’s vicious attack.

i was so afraid

He’d throw me away.

i sat there and cried

’till i heard Him say,

“I made you tough, cuz

life would make you fight.

not made for my vase

you’re made for My Light.”

I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made. -Psalm 139:14 NIV


9 Comments on “fearfully made”

  1. 1 Ashley said at 4:10 am on October 1st, 2009:

    Serena, I love this. Have you ever read the kids book, "You are Special" by Max Lucado? It reminds me of this poem. God as our maker. God as the fixer and restorer or our "pots". It tells your story in such a tidy (not that the story is tidy, but this allows it to be told without too much detail, but the idea is all there) and poetic way. I love it and I love the conclusion with the cracks and light shining through. You are a light!!


  2. 2 carrie said at 4:45 am on October 1st, 2009:

    Beautiful…just like you.

  3. 3 Cristina said at 5:01 am on October 1st, 2009:

    I am a light too! Thank you for this!!!

  4. 4 Sisterlisa said at 5:38 am on October 1st, 2009:

    Hooraaw!!! Beautiful! I actually quoted you in my little Ebook about the 'put a little sun in… meant to be a lamp' that you said on my blog one day. I will print this poem out for the women at the Sarah Home. They'll LOVE it!

  5. 5 Serena Woods said at 7:46 am on October 1st, 2009:

    I'm glad you ladies like my little rhyme. 🙂

  6. 6 mli said at 11:21 am on October 1st, 2009:


  7. 7 Ashley said at 4:47 pm on October 1st, 2009:

    I actually thought about this "little rhyme" all day. 🙂

  8. 8 Mary said at 4:33 am on October 2nd, 2009:


  9. 9 Billy Coffey said at 5:01 am on October 2nd, 2009:

    This is utterly fantastic. You are a gifted writer!

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