Potter

I was listening to the song Finally I Surrender by Misty Edwards tonight. And this came into my mind. I want him to be the potter of me and my life as long as I have breath. It is my eternal prayer.

A lump of clay, a spot of mud. So unformed and incomplete, without any real shape or form. Then, the Potter comes. He comes and sets me upon his wheel; shapes, forms, and guides me. He smooths the rough edges and makes me new, takes me out of the mire I come from. When I give into the pressure, the prodding, I realize it's for my own good. To make me something new and worth while. Something, a vessel, that can be filled. Oh that I may be filled to overflowing. May I be filled 'til I cannot hold anything else.

-"We can make our plans, but the Lord determines our steps." - Proverbs 16:9