Mailable at best

Do you ever, and by ever I mean, uh, ever, get the feeling you haven't been making much progress lately, and by lately I mean, uh, anytime lately?

I know what I'm about to write will upset some, challenge some, surprise some.

We are not finished products. There. I said it. Deal with it.

The Bible expresses this thought in a bit of a round-about fashion. Paul writes, "And I am certain that God, who began the good work within you, will continue his work until it is finished on the day when Christ Jesus returns."

Now, that means to me that the work God is doing in us, in me, continues. Read it any other way? Nah. Didn't think so.

That means to me that whatever He is doing within us is continuing. He won't leave us the way He found us, and perhaps almost as importantly, as we found him.

So, what's going on in us? We're gaining in knowledge. Fear and (Hunter S. Thompson fans will get this) loathing is diminished. Humility is increased. The love of self slowly but surely dies.

As importantly, the work being done through us increases.

I am but a tool of the Lord. I get that, well, some of the time. Some of the time I step on out in ego and pride and try to do things and it's all a big crash waiting to happen. But slowly and most assuredly surely He is working through me to get me to see with spiritual eyes. When I see, it's like a scene out of Field of Dreams.

Remember that movie (my favorite ever)? I'm not good enough of a writer to even explain it. But at the end, some baseball players who had been playing on a field in Iowa, some very dead baseball players by the way, are finally seen by a brother of the lead actor. He says, "Ray, when did these ball players get here?" That's the way our spiritual eyes are, often. Things are going on around us daily. It's only when we get out of the way are our eyes opened.

The old song inspired by Isaiah 64:8 is a reminder of what we must do, feel, believe to go on to what Wesley described as perfection.

Have Thine own way, Lord. Have Thine own way!
Thou art the Potter; I am the clay.
Mold me and make me after Thy will,
While I am waiting, yielded and still.

That's the road to perfection, the road to doing the work of God. God began the good work, continues the good work, finishes the good work.

At best, we are mailable clay. At worst? Well, broken vessels.