Cracked Pot

I stand here, hidden at the back of the store. Long gone are my days of glory. How I remember those days. Days when people would come to get a glimpse of my beauty. All wished to possess me yet no one could have me. I was a treasure, the toast of the land. I was loved and cherished. Ahhhhh my days of glory. I was perfect in every way, without blemish or flaw. I was the masterpiece of masterpieces. I stood tall and proud, a testament to my maker.  Alas! my time in the limelight was not forever. The day I fell from glory was a day like any other.  People came into the store’s show room as usual, they gushed over my beauty, pointed, stared and when were satisfied moved on to the other pots in the show room (pots they could actually buy). By mid-afternoon there was quite a crowd, not unexpected as it was tourist season. The whole thing- my fall- was an innocent mistake. I don’t blame the boy, he was what- five or six years old. Far too young to know my worth. He just wanted to see what the fuss was about. A little push, a little shove and tumbling down I came. Silence filled the room, then a sigh of relief escaped, I wasn't broken. The store keeper came rushing. He picked me up and let out a horrified gasp. I was cracked,  3 long cracks right across my entire body with tiny little cracks around the side. When I saw his expression my heart broke. I was ruined.  He carried me with tears in his eyes to the back of the show room and kept me with all the other cracked and useless pots. He tried to fix me but I was never the same. It would have been better if I has broken into a million pieces  that day. As it stands, I am no longer whole but I am not dead. I float in limbo neither dead or alive, I simply exist. I am defiled and useless. I am a cracked pot.

Now I stand forgotten at the back of the showroom. I watch people pass by admiring the other pots. No one remembers me. I am covered in dust, a mere shadow of my former self, a “has been”, a “once upon a time”. I am alone. That my friends is my story. I am alone. Its afternoon and the story is the same, many have entered the shop, bought a few pots, admired some but no one has spared  a glance in my direction. Dear reader, don’t pity me. I have learnt not to hope anymore. I have accepted that I am of no use to anyone in my less than perfect state. Oh! What is this I see, an old man enters the store. He has a well weathered face, a testimony to a long, full life. I see him scouting for a pot. He is approaching my section in the store, probably wants to pick a pot near my section like the others before him. Wait a minute, he is looking at me, no he is carrying me to the store keeper. “Sir, that pot is cracked” the store keeper tells the man “I can see that, that is why I want it. It reminds me of life . Storms come along and leave their scars on us just like the cracks on this pot. Am a man covered in cracks left by the storms of life just like this pot but am also a man not broken by those storms just like this pot was not broken by whatever left these cracks. I am still useful in spite of my cracks. The joy in  my life shines through the cracks and shows the world the beauty within. It reminds them that  though I may have fallen a few times, I have been able to stand again. In the same way the light I shall put within this pot will shine through the cracks and show the beauty within. The pot is only cracked not broken.” The man replies. That said, he pays for me, takes me to his house and true to his word puts a light within me. The light shining through my cracks form a beautiful pattern in his home. The patterns are a great delight to his many visitors, especially the children. They marvel at the different patterns my cracks form depending on the position of the light within me. I also hear that many have followed in the old man's footsteps and bought the other cracked pots at the store to use a decorative lamps. 

Well reader, though I am not perfect, I guess I am still useful. The beauty I thought I had lost was always there but it took a man who could look beyond the cracks on my body to see it and bring it out.

All of us are cracked pots in one way or the other. We bear cracks left by sin, problems, pain, the storms of life among other things. We know better than anyone else just how far below the mark of perfection we fall.  However,  we must always remember that though we are cracked, we are not useless. Jesus gives our lives meaning. He looks beyond the cracks and finds the beauty within. Though the entire world (including you) may have condemned you and marked as useless, hopeless and worthless, Jesus sees and says different. He sees the potential in you for greatness no matter how low you may have fallen. He doesn't deny the existence of the cracks or imperfections, He simply sees beyond them.  Jesus is described as a light. When we possess the Jesus element  we become carriers of the light and this light shines through our cracks and shows off the beauty within. It transforms us from objects of scorn, sadness, reproach, shame, pity and disgrace to emblems of joy, peace, hope, love, grace and beauty. Today you are faced with a choice: you can remain a cracked pot, standing at the back of the store or  you can be a cracked pot with light of Jesus shining through your cracks.

Signed

Yours truly