Vessels for Breaking

“We are called out
We are ransomed
We are not of the world we’re in.
We are chosen,
We are blessed
To give light to the lives of men.
So Father sow your seed
Give us life and community.
Awake us from our sleep
This is your time,
This is your place.
We are vessels for breaking
Under your grace.
We are led by your Spirit.
You have redeemed us
By the blood of Your Son.
Send down your word,
We are eager to hear it.
Ready our hearts
To carry Your love.”

“We are vessels for breaking under Your grace.”
Do I really know what it means to pray this? To desire it?

For a long time, I have loved the image of the vessel, the jar of clay, that object which carries God’s light into the world. It is a feminine image to me. Mary was a vessel – there was nothing about her that made her worthy to be the bearer of Christ. And of course with the privilege of bringing God into the world, she also endured the pain of His death. Her love broke her. There is an Annie Dillard poem that goes something like, “love nails us to the things of this world.” I think I am beginning to learn what these lines mean, that being a vessel of God’s love means being willing to be broken by Him, willing to be shaped and reshaped until you are able to carry what He’s called you to carry.

This past week, people have asked me, "How are you? Really?"

I'm not sure how to answer this right now. And, in some ways, it doesn't matter how I am so much as who I am: God's daughter. It’s probably evident from my last post that the last few weeks of being here have been simultaneously gut-wrenchingly intense and suffused with joyfulness. I write poems; I pray a lot; I get grumpy and tired; I laugh with friends over meals; I get melancholy in an instant; I procrastinate on lessons; I look up at the sky with wonder in my eyes; I raise my hands in worship; I berate myself for failing to live up to my calling; I’m insecure; I’m falling-over-myself happy; I am an instant from despair, or an instant from ecstasy, every moment of every day.

I am learning how to be a vessel, or at least learning to desire to be a vessel. This could be culture “shock” (such a useless term) or the result of the work God is doing in me. Or, it could just be the fact that life overseas inevitably heightens and intensifies every normal emotion. This is why I love it – and also why I have to learn so much more about letting the Lord rule over my heart. And in the midst of it all, I have friendships that carry me. Kelli wrote me an email with the lyrics to the song above – the same lyrics I have been carrying around and clinging to for a week now. God laid them on her heart even as those same words were ringing in my ears. Astonishing. A friend calls me on Monday afternoon and prays for me – praying for needs and hopes and fears that I haven’t even vocalized to her, but that the Spirit of God has shown her. There is so much confirmation of God’s leading and strengthening of me for His work here, and yet it is not fun to be the vessel God is trying to break! The vessel argues and cries, and still thoughts come to her, “love is pain – don’t hold back.” We are made to be like Christ, to let His love break us on behalf of those around us, that His light might flow through those cracks out into the dark world.