Finding The Secret

More Than Conquerors
January 2005

“For God, who said, ‘Let light shine out of darkness,’ made his light shine in our hearts to give us the light of the knowledge of the glory of God in the face of Christ. But we have this treasure in jars of clay to show that this all-surpassing power is from God and not from us. We are hard pressed on every side, but not crushed; perplexed, but not in despair; persecuted, but not abandoned; struck down, but not destroyed. We always carry around in our body the death of Jesus, so that the life of Jesus may also be revealed in our body. For we who are alive are always being given over to death for Jesus’ sake, so that his life may be revealed in our mortal body. So then, death is at work in us, but life is at work in you.” —2 Corinthians 4:6-12

We are weak and frail, like jars of clay. We fail God so often, slipping back into old patterns instead of continuously walking the paths He shows us. And yet, in spite of our weaknesses, our sins, and our frailties, God chooses to use us to shine His light to the world. He could send a legion of angels to spread the truth, but instead He chose the fragile works that were made in His image.

It is so amazing to think that God chooses to use us to minister to others. But we are His choice! We have His treasure in our vessels—the only question that remains is: what are we going to do with it?

Reflecting

Amazing
truly...truly I tell you
amazing

one moment I was wonderful
kind
considerate
full of wisdom
compassion
helpful
life giving

it
was wonderful

then, like embers dying,
there was nothing left
just ash
I was tired
had no vision
had no desire or ability
to help
all I could see
were my limitations

ah, so this is what it means to be
an earthen vessel
and when I’m full and brimming over with brightness
even shining through the cracks, the silly things I do
ah, that is God

—Cindy Julius
© Cynthia Julius. Used with permission.

Ordinary Pen

I’m just like any other—
At times my ink supply runs dry,
Or blotches smear the writer’s vision,
And dim imagination’s eye—

And yet, created for a purpose,
He chose me from a thousand pens,
Appointed to a special task
To touch the hearts of seeking men;

The Author took me in His hand,
And then the miracle took place—
My life was used to make a poem,
To bring a smile to His Beloved’s face!

—Benjamin Graber

Plum

I want to be a sweet
In everybody’s mouths—
I want to make them smile
And see the Light—

I want to be a kiss
Upon their deepest wounds—
I want to make them laugh
And touch the sky—

But lately, seems to me
I’m not very sweet,
And smiles don’t flicker up
When I come ‘round—

And I seem to find myself
Rubbing salt into the wounds,
And digging all their hopes
Deep into the ground—

Make me a sugarplum—
Oh, God, I want to be
A tiny taste of You—
A bit of Heaven’s sweet—

—Joanna Spencer
© Joanna J. Spencer. Used with permission.

Go ye into All the World

“Go ye into all the world”
Is what the Bible says
To tell the news of Christ’s great love,
Salvation free, no less.

God uses us, though weak and lame
To spread the Gospel call
To those who need to hear the Word
The Word that’s meant for all

Jesus’ desire for sinful ones
To ask him in our hearts
We need to answer God’s great call
And do our Christian part.

Crushed and torn, our body weak
We ask Him what to do
It never fails—He gives us strength
To give us life brand-new

God uses us no matter what
Condition we may be
His strength made perfect in our weakness
Just do it and you will see!

The strength and courage and wisdom too
That God will give to you
Will be enough for you each day
To get you joyfully through

My light will shine for all to see
As long as I have breath
I’ll tell of God’s redeeming love
Until my final rest.

So use me Lord in any way
You may see fit for me
I know Your Grace and strength will be
More than I’ll ever need

—Greta Cole
© 2005 Greta Cole. Used with permission.

Why?

I don’t understand
Why He should care
I don’t understand
This heartache I bare.

I don’t understand
The love that He gave
I don’t understand
Why me He would save.

I don’t understand
How you cannot believe
I don’t understand
Why you make Him grieve.

I don’t understand
Why you fill your life with naught
I don’t understand—
Happiness can’t be bought.

I don’t understand
The empty hole you try to fill
I don’t understand
For these things can’t fulfill.

I don’t understand
The goal of your life.
I don’t understand
Why you reject Christ.

I don’t understand
Dear friend, I’m sorry.
I just don’t understand
Could you explain to me?

—Terra Mandrell
© Terra Mandrell. Used with permission.

The Carpenter

O Lord, at Joseph’s humble bench
Thy hands did handle saw and plane;
The hammer nails did drive and clench,
Avoiding knot and humoring grain.

That thou didst seem, thou wast indeed,
In sport thy tools thou didst not use;
Nor, helping hind’s or fisher’s need,
The laborer’s hire, too nice, refuse.

Lord, might I be but as a saw,
A plane, a chisel, in thy hand!—
No, Lord! I take it back in awe,
Such prayer for me is far too grand.

I pray, O Master, let me lie,
As on thy bench the favored wood;
Thy saw, thy plane, thy chisel ply,
And work me into something good.

No, no; ambition, holy-high,
Urges for more than both to pray:
Come in, O gracious Force, I cry—
O workman, share my shed of clay.

Then I, at bench, or desk, or oar,
With knife or needle, voice or pen,
As thou in Nazareth of yore,
Shall do the Father’s will again.

Thus fashioning a workman rare,
O Master, this shall be thy fee:
Home to thy father thou shalt bear
Another child made like to thee.

—George MacDonald

Pennyman

I am only a penny
and my value is very small.
I am found in many people;
some short, some fat, some thin, some tall.

I am kept in many places;
in pockets, in purses and sometimes on the ground.

When I’m on the ground,
I turn black and green from the rain

and have no value at all.
But Wait... Wait
Someone is picking me up
and wiping me off.

God is returning me
to His service.
If pennies could talk,
I’d say, “Thank You Lord.”

But I am only a penny
and my value is very small.
Yet, God uses me in His Service
for the benefit of all.

Rejoice in the greatness of God—
His mercies are new every morning.
He does many wonderful things—
With His hands our lives He's forming.

S t r e t c h

He s t r e t c h e s me and pushes me
And spins me ‘round and ‘round,
He molds me to the purpose
For which He pulled me from the ground—

The Potter’s gentle hands are firm
While working with rebellious clay;
I’ve fought against the Artist’s plan
But someday He will have His way,

And every s t r e t c h is teaching me
To greet His hands with utmost pleasure;
For He is making me a vessel
To fill with His eternal treasures.

—Benjamin Graber

“Who shall separate us from the love of Christ?
Shall trouble or hardship or persecution or famine or
nakedness or danger or sword?… No, in all these things
we are more than conquerors through Him who loved us.”
—Romans 8:35, 37

If you have any comments or questions, or if you have a poem to share, please send an e-mail to bgraber@neo.rr.com

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