top of page
  • Feb 5, 2021
  • 5 min read

“That one is a real beauty,” The store clerk said, pointing to a beautiful golden cup on the top shelf that reflected his sly grin.

“No, not that one,” I smiled, “The one next to it"

Realizing his mistake, the clerk scanned the shelf then picked up a precious black and white vase that sat to the right of the golden cup. Made from dark onyx with a creamy pearl inlay around the top lip and bottom base it looked stunning. “My apologies, this is truly a beautiful piece.” He said, rubbing his scaly fingers over the precious stone. “The craftsmanship that went into forming this one is out of this world. My team and I spent a long time procuring this one. On the outside, it’s a real work of art, but on the inside, it’s as rough as granite. Good thing no one ever sees what’s on the inside. Am I right?”

He chuckled to himself as he placed the piece on the table and began to wrap it in cloth so as not to damage the precious exterior.

My eyes felt moist. What a vessel holds on the inside is what spills out onto the outside, What on the inside is often far more valuable. “Not that one either,” I explained. “The one on the other side.”

He left the black vase on the table, then went back to the shelf. Seeing the other adjacent piece the clerk’s eyes narrowed with confusion. “This one?”


I stared at the dust soaked wooden cup on the top shelf. “Yes, that’s the one.” Clearly, this vessel had been abused by years of misuse, isolation, and abandonment. At a distance I saw scuffed sides and lacerations that cut deep into the edges. Course and dented, the cup had been dropped too many times to count.



With a furrowed brow the clerk asked again, “Are you sure you want this one? I wouldn’t even spit in that cup. I’ve got plenty of other vessels to choose from. Just call another one out and I’ll get it packaged up for you. To be honest, I’m not even sure why I haven’t thrown this one in the trash. It’s not worth anything.”

I nodded, “I’m sure, I’ve already chosen”

“Whatever you say.” He looked at me as if seeing me for the first time. “You’re the carpenter’s son aren’t you? Figures. What are you going to do with it? It’s so damaged, it’s not like it can be used the way it is.”

“Have faith, I have big plans for this one.”

At the mention of the word faith, the clerk spit to the side. “I’ll bet you do. You always have something working in the unseen don’t ya?” He shook his head from side to side, “I don’t see what you see.”

“That’s because you see it for what it is. You see it broken, and marred, but I see it for what it can become in the master’s hands, my hands.” Rubbing my palms together, I felt my scars remembering feeling broken and beaten myself.

“Yea, Yea. Whatever. As long as your money’s good. I don’t care.” The clerk put the black and white vase back on the shelf in favor of the unfinished wooden cup. He groaned as he began to wrap it in tattered cloth remnants not wanting to waste any good materials on such a worthless chunk of wood.

“Don’t worry Lou,” I said seeing his agitation. I called the clerk by name although he had many other titles including, Dragon, Son of Perdition, and Fallen Star. “There’s no need to wrap it up. I’m going to hold this one in my hands for a while. I want to feel every misshapen crevice and course edge. When I’m done working through the mistakes and issues, you won’t even recognize it.”

He scoffed, tossing the cup onto the counter in front of me.

“I may have to clean it out, sand out the grooves, reshape the edges, and cover it with oil, but when I’m done...what you see as a worthless will become priceless.”

The clerk nodded his disbelief, then rang the cup up at the register. After a moment, he rang it up again. More confusion set deep into his fierce gaze. “It looks like you already own this cup. You paid for it with blood.”

“I know,” I said smiling. “I’m just here to take it back. I picked up the wooden vessel feeling the heart of the wood, rubbing my hands across the rough surface, knowing what would soon become of it. A tear washed down my cheek.

“Hey Lou,” I said, looking eye to eye with the old serpent. “I just want you to know...I’ll be back for what’s mine.”

I walked out weeping while hearing beastly screams rage through the air. No doubt Lou, or Lucifer as some called him, had scanned a few more pieces at the register only to realize I already owned every vessel on that shelf...and in his store.

“I’m coming back for what’s mine Lou,” I whispered through the air. “I’m coming back for what’s mine.”




Author Perspective


The devil thinks he owns you like some kind of trophy to be set on a shelf collecting dust. For some he’s put in a lot of time breaking us down, making us feel less than worthless. He has a way of getting into our minds forcing us to dwell on our mistakes and broken promises. He wants you to remember every time you’ve been let down or let yourself down, every time you’ve fought to stand up only to fall flat on your face again.


Sometimes the best he can do is get us to focus on our outside appearance. You might post selfies with a smile, or a positive meme that lets the world know “You’re fine.” But on the inside, you’ve become a shattered mess. No one sees you crying into your pillow at night. No one knows how hard it is to force your feet to hit the floor the next morning when you know today you’ll be just as broken as the day before. No matter how much time the devil has put into making you feel inferior, He’d still sell you out if thought he could gain some kind of profit.


The truth is he doesn't own you. You’ve already been bought with a price [1 Corinthians 6:20]. Although you may feel used up, mistreated, broken, and worthless the God of Heaven, the one who put the stars in the sky and formed Adam from the dust of the ground, stepped into this earth with one purpose. With you on his mind, he stretched his hands as far as the East is from the West on an old rugged cross to sacrifice himself for your sins. He chose death so you could have life. He felt pain and knows what it means to suffer. He understands betrayal and still, He offers a promise saying…


28 “Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. 29 Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. 30 For my yoke is easy and my burden is light.” Matthew 11:28-30


Jesus sees what we can become if we allow ourselves to be reformed In the Master’s hands. There, He sands away our missteps and imperfections, He forgets our past, shaping us into his image. We come as broken unfinished vessels, but he pours out the anointing oil upon our heads transforming us into a masterpiece.


We are His chosen vessel and he’s coming back for what’s His.



Below is an affiliate link to a wooden cup to remind you that dispite our flaws, God can still use us for His purpose. If you use these links to buy something I may earn a commission. Thanks.



  • Jan 16, 2021
  • 2 min read

They say he watches the sparrow, so maybe a sparrow never feels inadequate. Maybe the sparrow never feels defeated, as life consistently lands blow after blow leaving them bruised and hurt. As they soar high above, do they ever feel lost or do they have some kind of internal compass that keeps them from going in circles?

What is it about the Sparrow God sees?

There are days when we wake up ready to take on the day. We'll fight, we'll push, do whatever it takes to move forward, but when evening comes, we're exhausted. When we check our progress, we realize we've only moved inches, not yards, or feet, not miles. We're still in basically the same place.

What if we're doing it wrong?

We're trying to fight our battles alone. We're trying to swing our own punches when God is asking us to turn the other cheek. We're pushing forward so focused on the path we've set before our feet, We don’t see the door God already opened next to us.

Somehow, we've closed our eyes and our hearts to the scripture that says, “Seek Ye first the kingdom of God [Matt 6:33].” The goal shouldn’t be to press forward through the day, but instead to be like David. We should be still and know with confidence that He is God [Psalms 46:10]. We need to remember, if God doesn’t forget the sparrow [Luke 12:6], then he hasn't forgotten us. His word says he’s even numbered the hairs on our head [Luke 12:7].

Let’s press toward the mark for the high calling of God, but while doing so, let’s watch for the open door [Rev. 3:8] having enough courage to run through it [Joshua 1:9].

A sparrow may have an internal compass, they may not, but we need to let God be ours and trust he will direct our paths [Proverbs 3:6].

God knows exactly what he's doing.

  • Dec 15, 2020
  • 2 min read

Updated: Dec 16, 2020


Why is it so hard to write today? The words refuse to form at my fingertips. My mind circles with distractions while each and every noise in this house makes my skin crawl with frustration. I finally have time to write, but I’ve been chipping away at the same paragraph for over two hours.


I don’t understand.


Yes, I’m tired. Even still, I’ve had two cups of coffee, large cups, so potent they could wake the dead hair follicles of my balding head, but no. My brain refuses to wake.


The gift within me to write, the desire to bring a message of hope and forgiveness refuses to be released. It’s locked up behind a door that’s been fused to the chamber walls. Time has not boded well for the chamber door. The hinges have rusted together, the wood has swollen with age putting extreme pressure between the joints and edges between the door and its frame. Push and push the door won’t give way. The story is trapped. Why?


Time will tell. Press on, I must. The fight is real. The struggle, although it may seem insurmountable at the moment, too shall pass. So today, I fight for the words. I fight for the pages, I fight on until blow by blow, I reign victorious.




Note: This is just part of my process. When I get stuck, and feel like I've lost all hope of putting words on the page I do a little free writing. I just start typing. No edits, no stopping, just free thought. Eventually something decent comes out. Today, I needed to do a little free writing. The above is edited.



bottom of page