like gritty sandpaper that shreds skin.
This strife that falls into my peaceful world.
It brings discord, fear, confusion.
Finding my deep parts,
my hardened parts,
the parts that reveal.
Smoothing my rough places,
the ones that need His touch.
The grit imparts pain but births beauty.
My potter is forming His clay.
He's making me fully His own, ready for service.
Proven and tried.
When everything is smooth and even,
everything that is left will be His.
A radiant vessel for His glory.
But the pot he was shaping from the clay was marred in his hands; so the formed it into another pot, shaping it as seemed best to him. (Jeremiah 18:4)
Linking with The Gypsy Mama today for Five Minute Friday.