To Protect What is Yours II.
I had once made a jar. One that I’ve spent many years to mold & create. One that was refined through the furnace and was ready to be used, glossed up and all.
It’s been years since I’ve tucked this jar away, somewhere safe but hidden underneath old things.
It’s been so long, I don’t quite remember what it looks like, nor how it made me feel when it first came out of the furnace - maybe excitement?
Probably.
And though, this jar was once quite special, truth is it is a normal rhythm of life for the things we value to change along with our seasons.
There are more important things.
More people to serve
More errands to do
More hobbies to try out
More work to fulfill
More TV shows to catch up on
Who in the world has time to care about a little ol’ jar?
Yet, in the most busiest of seasons, a good Dad walks into the room
Carries Himself to a dark and dusty corner, a cluttered space of old junk and boxes piled up
And digs around to find one specific old box that is tattered along its edges with sides clinging on for dear life, only to look at it for quite some time with
such mysterious and joyful eyes,
Marveling at its beauty, even when it looks nothing but old & dull to mine.
I guess He sees a kind of beauty that I can no longer see.
As He opens this box, with the same eagerness a father has when his child runs up to him and says, “DADDY, WAIT RIGHT HERE AS I DRAW YOU, OKAY?!” - even when He knows that whatever the product, whether it’s a compilation of unrecognizable scribbles or a beautiful piece of Picasso art, that He will treasure it joyfully because it was made by me,
He lovingly asks me,
”Honey.. Why have you tucked such a valuable thing away?”
And in one gentle hand, He reveals my old jar - covered in a thick layer of dust and mold - and begins to wipe the dust away
Layer by layer
Revealing a shiny thing underneath
One that I can glimpse from the other side of the room
Glossed up and all.
This jar is my dreams.
A series of dreams I’ve so skillfully tucked away because…
Well because at one point in my life, I’ve lost hope in the potential for them to be fulfilled.
Because, the world so cruelly demands my attention
And never gives me a break
So I’ve accepted that this is my life
That a dusty old jar like mine won’t dare matter to anybody
How could it, when it doesn’t even matter to me?
But there will come a time where God sits down with me and opens these boxes, wiping the dust off of the collection of jars and says,
“Hey, remember this? Can you use this one again?”
And what was once covered in a thick layer of grey and dull is now glistening brightly from the inside
Brand new again,
As if it was never tucked away
And as I walk alongside my good Dad, holding one of my jars in each of our hands, we laugh and reminisce at the memory of when I had so artfully planned the details of this jar, in full belief that He would one day use it to do great things.
So time and time again He reminds me,
To not lose hope
In the promises of my dreams,
That I no longer have to tuck it away and shamefully hide it in the dark,
But in my refinement, I can boldly display it for the world to see
For the world longs so deeply to see something beautiful and outside of this world
And it would be robbing them of a Good, Good thing
If I don’t ever show it to them
Something that we can all stand in front of and just marvel at its beauty
Coveted by all because of how unique and valuable it really is.
And the reality that He so deeply desires for us to remember:
I have not forgotten your jars
Not a single one of them
Even when you might have
Will you give them to Me once again,
I can make them brand new for you.
No matter how long it takes
I will uncover layer by layer
Until all that is left is the shiny, beautiful part
The one you were so excited about when you first made it with Me
Refined through the furnace and ready to be used.
Glossed up and all.
