Tuesday, December 29, 2015

a humble pot

Today's readings: Zechariah 14:1-21, Revelation 20:1-15, Psalm 148:1-14, Proverbs 31:8-9

A funny thing happened to me tonight, and it relates to the reading, so if you'll permit me, I'll share it with you. Every night, I go for a prayer walk. Since it's really cold in Dallas right now, I bundled up in my jacket with a hood, gloves, muffler, and so forth to stay warm. Then I went for my walk.

My walk often takes me to an overpass near my apartment. And while I'm walking and praying, I sometimes will stand on the overpass and watch the cars going underneath me, and think about their lives speeding away from me or rushing toward me. It's therapeutic to watch them fly under me going so fast right underneath me, but not affecting me except for the wind they throw as they pass.

Tonight, I was standing on that overpass, thinking about those lives and praying, when a cop pulled over. He assured me repeatedly that I had done nothing wrong. He had just, in all his years as a cop, never seen anyone stand on an overpass and look down at the cars like that. I explained that I was praying like I do every day. He asked for ID and checked me out. I noticed he had a Smart Watch on, and I asked "Is that a Moto 360?" He said it was. I said "I used to have one like that." He said, "Used to?" And I REALLY wanted to say "Yeah, until I threw it at one of those cars down there..." but I didn't think he'd be amused.

He told me again that I'd done nothing wrong and wished me a good night. I shook his hand and told him to keep up the good work. He seemed confused but happy.

The way this relates to our reading is, Zechariah talks about the pots in Jerusalem. He is talking about end times, and he says that "In fact, every cooking pot in Jerusalem will be holy to the LORD."

I related to that. I feel like I'm just a humble cooking pot. I'm not anything too great, and I've got plenty of flaws. But even me, a lowly little cooking pot, can be holy to the LORD if I'm dedicated to Him.

On my walk tonight, I came across as different. The cop had never seen anything like me before, and it made him take pause. When I told him that I was praying, it spoke God into his life. In a very humble way, like cooking food for someone. But in a way that maybe, one day, will take root in his life and give him hope when he needs it.


God, thanks for giving even humble little cracked pots like me a chance to be "holy to the LORD."