I Am But A Broken Vessel

I found it befitting to first write this rather than finishing up my art history lesson because of what a wonderful and celebratory day it is.

I’m overcome with thanksgiving and overflowing with joy knowing that my hope is found in Jesus — the author and the finisher of our faith — whom has overcome criticism, fear, persecution, and most importantly — the grave.

What a savior we find in him!

The one who held every weight. The one who’s wrath was bore at calvary. The one whose forgiveness has been freely given. The one who bought everyone’s freedom in one moment. As the stone was rolled away he who knew no sin became hope for those consumed by it.

My speechlessness abides when I dwell on that truth.

That act of crazy unconditional love.

Just as Mary, I find myself kneeling at Jesus’ feet — pouring out every ounce of perfume I own on them. Coming as not whole, but broken. Creating a fine fragrance that Jesus relishes in.

But a broken vessel, I come.

Day after day I can never fully comprehend this act that Jesus did for us.

For me. For you. For your family. For all your friends. For your enemies.

I can’t understand.

The love displayed on that day would be talked about for years to come. The miracle that took place after the third day would be something to change humanity forever.

No longer do we only have to be made of one nature — caught in our sin and shame, only subject to our earthly ways, merely dirt — but two. Finally brought back into unity with the divine. All because Jesus, for one moment, separated from it.

God created a beautiful plot where we would one day get to make a choice. Would we choose to unite back to our father — back to the creator as it was intended to be?

I don’t think I will ever fully understand.

Why Jesus would choose to become man.

Why He chose to be reduced to so little.

Why he chose to leave the parameters he set for us at the foundation of time so we would no longer have to.

As I think about that today for probably the one hundredth time I keep coming back to the fact that Jesus just wanted (and needed) to relate to us. He knew that if he was going to die for something, he would need to be familiar with what he was dying for.

He knew that if he was going to be dying for my struggles, my pain, my fear, and my brokenness, he would have to experience it too.

What love that is.

Jesus left the divine and he entered Jerusalem, fulfilling the perfect plan and destiny God had set before him.

What willingness that is.

To tear the veil separating us from God in one final sacrifice.

Now he looks down at us and can say:

I see your fear. I had it. I see your pain. I felt it. I see your struggle. I’m all too familiar  with it.

Jesus experienced — Jesus suffered — the exact same things you and I go through. He was pressed. He was afraid. He begged God for his plan to be done differently but settled that if it be his will, for it to be done.

What love that is.

I hope I never fully understand it.

For the struggle between what I know and what I have yet to know pushes me to keep pursuing — to keep seeking all there is to know about Jesus and the never-ending love and kindness he has.

But what a day it will be when we meet Jesus face to face.

When everything falls perfectly into place without fault or flaw.

Standing before God himself — The way and truth that has led me through life.

Hebrews 12 says better than I could:

“For the joy set before him he endured the cross, scorning it’s shame, and sat down at the right hand of the throne of God. Consider him who endured such opposition from sinners, so that you will not grow weary and lose heart.”

He endured the cross because of the joy he knew would come. Because of this we shall not grow weary. We shall not lose heart.

Hold onto the hope that Jesus so readily provides through all things. I bet you he is always found to be waiting on the edge of his seat, waiting for a son or daughter of his to cry for help.

Only but a broken vessel.

Makayla Marie





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