Microprayers for Lent: Week 6

(But can You make my wilful will as soft, as
to change at Your touch as this clay?)

Some days I could see You transfigured
and barely
notice. Transfix my eyes. Show me truth.

First, this truth: You became clay, became dust.
The potter
became like the fragile clay He made.

The same hands that sculpted soil into life
now feel
the mortal sting of splinters as He works wood.

Calluses line with sawdust. Blood blisters glisten
like stars,
like the first pulse of life in His creation.

He who first thought of trees, first sculpted soil,
now kneels
among trees, feels soil and blood commingle…

I bend only to my will. Maker of clay, You bend
and pray:
Is there another way?

Published by Matthew Pullar

Teacher, writer, blogger, husband, father, Christian. Living in Wyndham in Melbourne's west, on the land of the Kulin Nation. Searching for words to console and feed hearts and souls.

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