The Potter’s Secret

 

Often in the spacious time of a dream

I replay the events of the day

I see a person that looks and seems like, but it isn’t really me

It’s only a mask

 

I realize now this is how many people live within this decisive society

A society that devours any that open up their sensitive thoughts and hearts.

I watched now on the transformed side and wonder which is worse

Wearing a mask or allowing God to shape my life into the master sculpture he has for me.

 

Either way we start out like formless molds of clay ready to be molded

It can be molded slowly into a mask over time designed to withstand societies

Along with personal criticisms

Or we may be molded into the likeness of God

Sadly many chose to wear the mask day after day, ever hardening to protect the true inside, but I’m not much of a performer so I chose just to be real, to know and be all that God has called me to.

 

A plan that if you seek you will find

A treasure of calm within the chaos of life

Silence from the outburst of a broken heart

 

The potter knows your perfect eternal plan

But the strings of your mind are laced in doubt

The uncertainty of playing life like that of a master artist

Within the different octaves, lie the keys to unlock the plan my God the Potter has for you,

Beyond the mental doors that a sickened self-worth builds to block out the daily pressures that attack mercilessly upon a heart without the armor of God

 

A life without being conformed to the potter’s hand is like living in a dream state, time melting by, and blurry images of heaven cause you to weep in your sleep,

But your deprived soul shouts among your own deaf ears

Your sinful mind casts a shadow where you stand, that only moves positions with the passing light of a soul that’s attached to the heavenly Son

 

Don’t let the world drain the living waters from you

The darkness of the evil one will paint various mirages that are really hidden cliffs meant to destroy your progress toward the promise land

 

How far must I travel to not see the inhumanity?

to evade the emotionless judgment and critical words of the world

How far must I go to find warmth from the cold and frigid memories that don’t seem to pass

The only place you need to go is to your heart

 

The life of Christ is prevailing enough to change any mask or mold, no matter how old, dry or beaten it may be, into a sculpture worthy to be shown in all the earth

 

I give my life over to the potter’s hands, as you kneed what was once clay

I trust your inner witness and your ever faultless ways

The joy you display is like a flood of peace on war fought land.

The wordless feeling of love displayed in your Son’s life,

is only faintly described in a heart filled “Thank You”

Your pottering secrets are shown in your truth, spread the word, the potter waits for you