A Cracked Pot

A water bearer had two large pots; each hung on the end of a pole which he carried across his neck. One of the pots had a crack in it, while the other pot was perfect and always delivered a full portion of water.

At the end of the long walk from the stream to the house, the cracked pot arrived only half full. For a full two years this went on daily, with the bearer delivering only one and a half pots full of water to his house.

Of course, the perfect pot was proud of its accomplishments, perfect for the end for which it was made. But the poor cracked pot was ashamed of its own imperfection, and miserable that it was able to accomplish only half of what it was meant to do. After years of what it perceived to be bitter failure, the cracked pot spoke to the water bearer one day by the stream. 

"I am ashamed of myself, and I want to apologize to you. I have been able to deliver only half my load because this crack in my side causes water to leak out all the way back to your house. Because of my flaws, you have more work to do and you don't get full value from your efforts."

The water bearer felt sorry for the old cracked pot, and in his compassion he said, "As we return to the master's house, I want you to notice the beautiful flowers along the path."

Indeed, as they wend up the hill, the old cracked pot took notice of the sun warming the beautiful wild flowers on the side of the path, and this cheered it some.  But at the end of the trail, it still felt bad because it had leaked out half its load, and so again it apologized to the bearer for its failure. 

The bearer said the the pot, "Did you notice that there were flowers only on your side of the path, but not on the other pot's side? That's because I have always known about your flaw, and I took advantage of it. I planted flower seeds on your side of the path, and every day as we walk back, you've watered them. For two years I have been able to pick these beautiful flowers to decorate the table. Without you being just the way you are, there would not be this beauty to grace the house."

"But He said to me, 'My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.' Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ's power may dwell in me. That is why, for Christ's sake, I delight in weaknesses, in insults, and in hardships, in persecutions, in difficulties. For when I am weak, then I am strong." 2 Corinthians 12:9-10 

This past Sunday, Nicole preached at St. Paul's CSI Church in Vadavathoor, about 15 minutes away from Kottayam. She included this story about the cracked pot, a story I have always loved. I identify more with the cracked pot than I ever have before. As I fight against anxiety, I too feel like I am a pot with a big gaping crack in the side, letting out precious water. I, like Paul, ask God what purpose my thorn serves. I too wish it were taken away from me. But He says, "My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness." 

I ask Him questions, confronting Him with my feelings. God, I've been here almost three months. Why won't this anxiety leave me? I think I should be feeling more "normal" by now. Why don't I feel "normal?" Will I ever feel "normal" in India? What is "normal," anyhow? Why can't I just be healed of this right now? What purpose does this serve? Wouldn't I be better off without it?

I believe that my anxiety serves a purpose. Yes, I do wish it weren't there, but I believe that God allows it for many reasons, many beautiful reasons that I cannot yet see. I cannot yet know what purpose my brokenness will serve. But "we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love Him, who have been called according to His purpose" (Rom. 8:28). I must remind myself continually that God knows what He's doing.

Perhaps we are a better servant to others if we, too, are struggling. As a servant, would I serve better without my anxiety? I think that we can identify more with other's pain in the midst of our own. True compassion comes from the open admission that we, too have known pain and weakness. Here, I am knowing weakness and confronting my own pain. Perhaps my compassion-well is deepening.

And perhaps this is so I can gain a more proper perspective of myself: less of me, more of Him. And the things of earth will grow strangely dim in the light of His glory and grace, as the hymn says. I am gaining new knowledge of his endless compassion and his faithful provision for all that I need. I depend on Him for strength and energy every hour of the day, and He never fails to provide. He sustains me.  

Being made painfully aware of my own shortcomings means that my understanding of God's perfection is deepened. After all, if I'm just fine on my own, would my strength be drawn from Him, the unending Source, or would it be drawn from my own shallow wells? I know that I would not be relying on Him as heavily as I am now if I were anxiety-free.

We all have our cracks. Some are incurred by others. Some are flaws in our design or our makeup, a thinning that eventually wears through. Some are a hairline fracture from many years ago than unexpectedly spring a leak. Whatever form they take, we all have them. They are what makes us who we are. 

Furthermore, when I stop and wonder where exactly I am I remind myself that I am right in the palm of God's hand. I am in the center of His mercies. I am drawing directly from the Source itself. In the devotional I read this month's theme is "compassion." Beth Moore writes, "God's compassion is always full, never fails and is ever new. The sun rises every morning on all the manna of mercy we'll need that day to make it. Even the manna we'll need to help someone else make it. Our rule must be to speak the language of love. We must keep lending God our empty hearts like bone-dry canteens and ask Him to pour forth into them His very own love (Rom. 5:5)." When I ask, "Where am I? How did I get here?" I tell myself that I am right in the center of God's will, and that there is no better place to be.

Furthermore, I must continually put things into perspective and realize that: 1) My sufferings are nothing compared to the sufferings of most of the people around me if I am willing to open my eyes and heart to see it. For example, the girls of the hostel have started opening up to me about some of their problems, and we have shed tears together. My sufferings have nothing on theirs or those of the people around me. Perspective.

2) Secondly, my God suffered all because of His love for you and for me. He has been exactly where I've been and know how it feels. 

I know that the things I suffer momentarily are nothing compared to His suffering for me. They are also nothing compared to His glory that will be revealed. "For those who are led by the Spirit of God are the children of God. The Spirit you received does not make you slaves, so that you live in fear...Now if we are children, then we are heirs-heirs of God and co-heirs with Christ, if indeed we share in his sufferings in order that we may also share in His glory. I consider that our present sufferings are not worth comparing with the glory that will be revealed in us " (Rom. 8 :14, 15a, 17, 18).

Lastly, I know that the difficulties I encounter here in India will serve to strengthen me and to strengthen my reliance on Him. My faith is being tested, as it ought to be. Why do we have trials? Because our faith is strengthened and proved genuine in fire. Peter writes "These have come so that the proven genuineness of your faith-of greater worth than gold, which perishes even though refined by fire-may result in praise, glory, and honor when Jesus Christ is revealed." (1 Peter 1:7) I am being transformed and made stronger in many ways through this experience.

So maybe this anxiety will be conquered while I'm here, and maybe not. Maybe I never will be "normal" in India, whatever "normal" is. That does not matter. What matters is that I am obedient to Him. That means that I continue to live here and love and be loved by these people. That means that I smile even when I don't feel like smiling and I make a point of talking with others and being kind, even, and especially, when I don't feel like it. That means that I rely on His strength, day after day, to enable me to be faithful to Him, whether I'm feeling like it or not. I will keep working despite my discomfort and watch for how His strength is made perfect in my weakness. For nothing is impossible with You, God, and You promise that You haven't given me anything large than what I can handle with You.

I am going to close with three things my mother taught me about life. I continually remind myself of these truths my mother, the godliest person I know, repeats.

1) Life is not about happiness; it is about holiness. It is about serving God and following Him obediently. Only there can we find true happiness. Our joy will come eventually because we followed Him. But we must act in obedience first, stepping out in faith and following Him blindly. Life is not about happiness, but about becoming more like Him. 

2)  Feelings are not truth. Feelings are chemicals bouncing around in your brain. They are easily swayed. God's Word alone is truth. When you don't feel well, stop focusing on your feelings and focus on Truth itself.

3) My mother recently told me, "If I had to go through everything I've been through in life a second time, I would, because of how close it brought me to Jesus."Her faith is so strong that not only has she become closer to God through her trials, she would go through them a second time just to draw closer. May I strive to have the same faith.


"Be still, my soul; the Lord is on Thy side.
Bear patiently the cross of grief or pain.
Leave to thy God to order and provide;
In every change, He faithful will remain.
Be still my soul; thy best, thy Heavenly friend
Through thorny ways leads to a joyful end."
-Be Still My Soul (to the tune of "Finlandia" by Sibelius)