People Are Like Dishes

People are like dishes. Some people come straight out of the box, all shiny and new. A quick rinse, and they're ready for God's use. But some of us have been in use for years or even decades, and need a little work before we're 'meet for the Master's use'.

We've been used in many ways, some even having been MISused. But here we are, chipped perhaps, scarred and marred, but not in pieces. Some dishes have been VALUABLE enough to have God glue us back together after a traumatic, soul-shattering fall. Sure, he could have dropped the pieces - what was left of our lives - in the wastebasket. But there was something about us that caused him to take the pieces of our shattered lives, and lovingly re-assemble them so they would again be useful to him. For those 'peculiar' dishes he had to rescue from many other dishes' fate, God seems to have a particular affinity, a specific reason, a definite purpose.

For some of us, we arrive with a lot of junk. Some of us were so used for so long, we have stuff 'baked on'. We've made the rounds. Some were used in the dirt of the garden. Some were used to hold greasy nuts and bolts. Some held water for the children's fingerpaints. Some were taken to a vehicle, used once, and then tossed into the trunk, seemingly to live out the rest of our existence in separation and darkness. We sit there dirty and dry, jostled around in the darkness, and wonder if we'll ever get back to the pantry, to be used at a meal, as our master intended. But God gathers all the dishes together unto himself. Without all of us, God can't complete his 'place settings'.

So he proceeds to clean. Some of us are especially dirty, so God needs to leave us in the hot, soapy water a little longer than the others. Some of us have baked-on and caked-on crud. Those, he applies a bit of 'fingernail', lovingly scrubbing (and scrubbing and scrubbing), until he decides we're ready to be used. Then he lovingly rinses us in the warm, living water. Some of us still have specks of the former crud clinging to us, so it's back into the soapy water, and a couple more scrubs, this time perhaps employing the scraper, just to be sure. We're rinsed again, and then dried with care.

He wouldn't have gone to all this trouble to clean us up, only to drop us now, would he? Of course not. So it's only after we GO THROUGH the cleaning (sanctification) process that God can fully use us. I praise and thank God for the 'new dishes', those he can just lift out of the box and use. But for those of us who've had the tests and traumas - and God is still applying the glue, soap, and scrubber - we should be extra thankful that he thinks so much of us to make that extra effort, so we can take our place at his table.

I leave you with this thought: When the master of the house is serving guests, are they given the newest, cleanest dishes? Absolutely. But the old, marred, sometimes cracked ones he reserves for his own special use, perhaps in his study while enjoying a particularly good book, or while in the shop, turning out other vessels on the wheel (Jeremiah 18). He does this because these old dishes have special meaning to him. We're never set on display at the banquet; we're lovingly used daily for all those 'quiet moments', just us and our creator.

We're all God's dishes!

© 2008 Scotty Ward