I think of something simple like glassware

How it sits there overturned after drying on the side of the sink

It cannot turn itself right

It cannot be filled when its base is toward the sky

The basest of me – bottom-up; vulnerable glass yet impenetrable

How could I present this to You as my point of pride

For I am useless in this position

I must be grounded instead

My base must be my foundation

This; grounded to the surface of earth

This is the place of confession

Confessing that I need be filled

That I need be aware of my state

Meditating on my depravity

Meditating that my use requires transformation

Meditating that I cannot fill myself with purpose

Meditating upon the splendor of Your majesty

Meditating, that Your praise would inhabit me

Though my very shape has the capacity to be utilized

I am not a thing to be contained but I am a container

I am not that which is provided but I am a provider

I am not the art itself but I am the display of art

I am the through; the practicing of thoroughfare praise to Your glory

The glass turned heavenward is to be filled

To be overflowing; pouring over the edges

Prayer is the only place wherein my glass can turn to its filling position

 

Meditation is the form of my glass

And here is the position of trust, of glory, of grace

Meditation is the word of pouring

And here is the word of trust, of glory, of grace

While other bottom-up glasses let life, the purpose-giving fluid, pour over them

Here is where I must allow the liquid to fill

That I may, in grace, hold within me the glory

Transparent in humility – that I am not my own

And in clarity of my shape I then display the presence of the giver of my being

I was made for this

I was made for Him…for You

And as something simple like glassware

So let my words yet lift the heart to meditate on the wondrous work of Christ

It is only in my practice of the meditative life that those who meet the glass drink not of me but of Him