This afternoon I grabbed a composition book off the coffee table. When I sat down I found that it was the graph paper one in which I sketch my ideas for a new kitchen. As I started to write anyway {because the idea struck}, I found myself thinking on these lines.<\/p>\n
The squares on the page march on across. Stick straight. Up, down. Right, left. They cover the page.\u00a0They remind me of cookie-cutter people; each one predictable within the confines of the lines. The ones who fit in with society\u2019s expectations, the ones who look like and behave like everyone else. I don\u2019t fit. I never could color inside the lines.<\/p>\n
I stick out like a sore thumb.<\/p>\n
Well, ok, not really- I conform on the outside, to my chagrin.\u00a0I wear acceptable clothes and my hair is its own color.\u00a0But, I am not a cookie cutter \u2013 on the inside. If I did not care whether I stood out or not, I\u2019d be wearing steam punk black and red; and my hair would be stark black with a black cherry rinse on it. {Why, yes, yes I\u00a0have<\/em>\u00a0thought about what it would mean to take personal external expression to the extreme and embarrass my grandchildren at the same time.} What people do not see on casual observation or quick glance\u00a0is<\/em>\u00a0the me that I am. The invisible me.<\/p>\n Truth is, I want to be loud, outrageous and draw attention all right- to The One who lives within. Not to myself; but to Him, THE ONE. The Author, Creator, The One who holds it all together by a Word. Who takes me as I am. Because I took Him at His Word; because He is The Word.<\/p>\n I am a broken vessel, a cracked pot. I am one whose contents dribble out of those cracks. I am one whose cracks reveal Him and what He has done for me on The Cross.\u00a0You see, I carry around The Living Water and though I may not stand out, it\u2019s not because I don\u2019t want to, it\u2019s because I want Him to be seen. Not me.<\/p>\n I am what He designed me to be and it’s just fine with me that I look like one of the crowd on first glance; but He knows better. I am His and I am loved. He calls me by my name.<\/p>\n \u00a0<\/strong>The one who enters by the gate is the shepherd of the sheep. The gatekeeper opens the gate for him, and the sheep listen to his voice. He calls his own sheep by name and leads them out.\u00a0\u00a0<\/em><\/strong>John 10:2-3<\/em><\/span><\/p>\n \u00a0<\/em><\/strong><\/span>I have been crucified with Christ and I no longer live, but Christ lives in me. The life I now live in the body, I live by faith in the Son of God, who loved me and gave himself for me.\u00a0<\/em><\/strong>Galatians 2:20<\/em><\/span><\/p>\n \u00a0But 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\u2019 sake, so that his life may also be revealed in our mortal body.\u00a0<\/em><\/strong>2 Corinthians 4:7-11<\/em><\/span><\/p>\n <\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" This afternoon I grabbed a composition book off the coffee table. When I sat down I found that it was the graph paper one in which I sketch my ideas for a new kitchen. As I started to write anyway {because the idea struck}, I found myself thinking on these lines. The squares on the … Read more<\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[3],"tags":[87,11,88],"class_list":["post-109","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-blog","tag-jars-of-clay","tag-jesus","tag-the-word"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/wordsfromthehomefront.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/109","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/wordsfromthehomefront.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/wordsfromthehomefront.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/wordsfromthehomefront.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/wordsfromthehomefront.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=109"}],"version-history":[{"count":3,"href":"https:\/\/wordsfromthehomefront.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/109\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":112,"href":"https:\/\/wordsfromthehomefront.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/109\/revisions\/112"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/wordsfromthehomefront.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=109"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/wordsfromthehomefront.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=109"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/wordsfromthehomefront.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=109"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}