Trophy Worthy of His Grace

Trials to blessings? Is it so that the evil I encounter God redeems to good from woe? Afflictions, vexing confounders, convulsing me upon the surge, the Master Potter's implements to conform me, mold and purge. Confident His just intent is with skillful wheel to craft an object shapely for His pleasure. Upon the scrap heap never cast an imperfect caricature, unyielding to Your purposes, disobedient to Your plan. Pliable--not rigid, formless-- surrendered in Your loving hand, the sharp knife shapes the tender clay; I flinch beneath the chastening mace: My God determined to portray a trophy worth of His grace. © Faye Lanham Gibson, 6-14-2014