Damaged Vessel

We have no right to compare ourselves to others for God loves each of us just as we are with all our imperfections. Yet, as a relatively new believer, I find that at times I cannot help but compare myself with other parishioners; it is one way in which I learn.

The comparison isn't good. I see around me people who seem more pious and more devoted than I think I will ever be. Although when I first first enter and kneel I feel God's presence so strongly that sometimes I can scarcely move, just a few minutes later I feel my mind slipping away and wonder what it is that keeps me from being as focused as others. (And yes, I do realize that I am probably not entirely alone in this.) Sometimes my focus is pulled away by events in my life that skitter through my brain. Other times, I become so absorbed in enjoying the presence of God that I find myself praying mechanically as I bask in that feeling of love -- a sort of contemplation that blurs out everything and everyone else.

More often than not, I marvel at being in the midst of those who love God and have taken the time to come and tell Him that in the presence of His community. That is when I realize that there is both a spiritual side and a social side to church. While they are intertwined, I don't think the best time for intertwining is during mass.

As these various thoughts swirl around in my mind, I realize from the swirling alone what a broken receptacle I am. I know that God can use all kinds of vessels -- the sturdier ones around me (those people who have spent their lives in the church and done much good in the name of God), the small shiny ones (the little children who have a life of service yet to come), and even the broken ones like me. Truly, I don't know why God entrusts such a damaged vessel as I with any of His tasks, let alone why He clearly selects specific tasks and lays them before me. I am grateful, though, that He does for I enjoy doing them.

Nor do I understand why He floods His enormous love into me when I cannot possibly hold it all; there are too many cracks in me, some possibly from the casting and the rest from a lifetime of rough usage. Again, I am grateful that He does. I sincerely hope that what leaks out through my cracks will be God's love, and that it will splash liberally onto others, both those others whom I admire as examples for my own spiritual development and those others I meet on a daily basis who live on the fringe and need that love so much more than I do.