The Broken Vessel

(An Allegory)

The broken vessel lay at the Master’s feet, dirty, discarded by life. Too far gone, too many years it had been used and misused, and now lay alone and broken. The Master bent, concern on His face, to see how this beautiful vessel had become so broken. He noticed the chips and cracks, bits of paint missing here and there, and damage  from a few hard falls. His fingers traced the intricate design etched in the now dirty surface, the serene, beautiful face of an innocent child. Now, with the scuffs and scrapes, and dirt, the face appeared old and care worn. He admired the graceful curve of the handle, the delicate spout and marveled at the beauty underneath the filth. Tenderly He reached out with both hands and picked it up, as caring as if He was receiving a tiny baby. He sighed with sadness and contentment, He had looked so long for this very pitcher. He remembered creating it, and the purpose He had designed it for so many years ago. And now, though broken, dirty, and discarded, He rejoiced to have found it once again. Now that He had found it, He had a special place for it to fill. He held it next to His heart, all the way to His work shop, where He gently placed it among the many other broken vessels He collected there, most of which were in various stages of repair. He hummed softly to Himself as he began the process of washing and cleaning the little pitcher. He tried to be careful, but he occasionally felt the little vessel tremble. When He was done He looked at it lovingly and admired the work He had accomplished. Here and there were a few nicks and gashes but over all it was a sturdy little pitcher. A little repair to the handle and spout, but that could wait. In time He would get to that. He placed the little pitcher in the window and thrust a handful of flowers into it. The beautiful flowers, hid the brokenness  from view. How He loved that little pitcher. No one would notice the scars as it sat there. “In time,” He said to Himself, “In time.”

The little vessel felt itself being lifted ever so gently from the place by the roadside where it had fallen. It was tired and weary, and felt worthless, lost, and alone. Life had not been so kind, and the wear and tear had left it scarred and broken. Life had started out well, then things happened which were beyond its control, “But that was so long ago.” Feeling unloved and marred, he made choices that were not good, adding to the dirt and filth which covered him from spout to base. People had tried to help but the dirt inside never allowed him to be used for anything worthwhile, or so he thought. Eventually life became too difficult, and one day he found himself cast aside, beside the road, completely broken and empty.

Then the gentle hands, the soft voice, he felt himself being lifted and carried. He thought it must be a dream but no, it was real! He heard the words, “Beautiful” and “Lovely design.” “How could that be?” he thought. “This man must be blind! Can’t he see all the dirt, the scars and broken chips? ” It felt good as the Master place him next to his heart and carried him home. He winced as the warm healing waters flowed over him. Even though the Master was gentle, the washing hurt, but then again, not so much as the dirt. He heard the Master talking to Himself,” This will do, just perfect! Just the perfect use for a beautiful piece of art!”  He felt the Master fill him with water, warm water, and it filled him and warmed him through and through. There was a slight, not unpleasant shock as the Master thrust the flower stems deep inside his heart. Feeling the soft pedals and breathing the lovely fragrance, was so different than the dirt and garbage he was so accustomed to. He wondered within himself, “How can it be? This is heavenly!”

From his vantage point from the window ledge, he could see the many, many vessels inside the shop. In fact, it was an amazing shop. Though he strained to see, he could not see the end of the rows and rows of vessels, all of different shapes and sizes. He watched as the Master walked up and down the rows paying special attention to each one. One He would pick up and clean, another He would dab on a little red paint to cover up a scratch. “No, it could not be, or was it?“ It looked like blood? “Would the Master use His blood to blot out the scars?” That’s when it came clear to him, “the vessels! They were all broken! They all needed repair! ” tears dribbled out of his spout as his heart swelled with love, almost to the breaking point, for His Master. He was not alone! Many others were also in need just like him! The Master was giving of His own blood to cover their sins and mistakes!

Time passed by in the Master’s shop, and under His care the little pitcher once again began to be restored. The Master would occasionally touch up a spot here or there, covering the chips and scratches with beautiful colors. He liked his new place and under the Masters loving touch, became a beautiful useful vessel. Sometimes he would get another nick or scratch, and sometimes it hurt, but not as much as it used to because he knew the Master really loved and cared for him. He learned to talk to him, and share all about his troubles. He let the Master wash him inside and out. He learned to like that, it made him feel so clean and good all over. It was true, if you looked closely, you may still see the scars, but they didn’t hurt any more. Sometimes he felt dirty inside, but then he’d talk to the Master and He’d wash him, and the pain seemed to melt away in his love.

Now the little vessel feels useful again. His thankfulness and praise spills over to others, encouraging them, telling them of the One who can take a broken, dirty, useless vessel and make it whole again. He never wants to leave the Masters shop, he feels useful and loved there. Occasionally, the Master sends him on errands to bring hope to others. But he always returns, back to the Master, content to be a vessel for Him.