Just Another Lump Of Clay

Out of the many people that come and go… There are few that stick around forever. This is something we all know very well. Each person that comes to the homes in Honduras definitely leaves their mark behind. All of them special and touching in their own way.

They all bring certain stamina to help us continue or bits of motivation. Some of the new ones help catapult me to the

 next level. It is odd though. The old ones, the seasoned ones, the ones that I had long forgotten and then suddenly re-appear… It is those that seem to keep me going for the long haul.

Having Teachers. Counselors.  Friends. Pastors. The significant relationships that helped create who I am… I am talking people from my past. It is currently my past that is pushing me forward. Normally I would neglect my history and focus on my future. Despite what my old history teacher taught me to do with learning history to avoid major pitfalls in the future. I want to keep my eyes straight ahead and look for what is coming down the road. But what am I driving? Where is the energy coming from? What is it made of?

Today, I had sort of an Aha Moment! He is the Potter, and I am the clay. I am still clay. And I always thought of Him as THE POTTER. Then, as ridiculously elementary as this is I remembered the hands
of The Potter. Nowadays, His hands are referred to as the church. And frankly, I, like many of you, have issues with what we now call “the church”. Back in the day, however, the church was a community of people. For Stephen it was small groups of people in homes. People that were hands. The hands of the Potter. I am clay. Clay that has been pushed, smashed, nearly destroyed, and molded back together. Not just by Him, but by you. By the people that love me. The people that KNOW me. The people that raised me. The people that molded the people that raised me. It takes more than parents to raise a child. It takes a community. My family did a great job, but so much more was left pressed, pushed, shaped, and molded by teachers. Pastors. Friends.

I find great motivation in having people that know who I was, and those that helped create who I am, come see and be a part of what I do. It drives me.

The fingerprints that have been etched in my clay are molded into my hands. My hands that now touch the lives of young ones around me. I leave my print, but in essence, I leave yours.