I’m at the checkout stand. The cashier holds up my purchase: “Maám, did you know this cup has defects?”
I squint my eyes to look at it more closely. She’s right! What looks like a crack, but really isn’t one, is embedded in the cup.
I still want the coffee cup, defects or not. So I bargain with her, get a discount, and leave the store happy.
For some reason, I love this little cup. It’s just right for a small cup of coffee, and it makes me happy, just looking at it. I even love the defects. Everyone in the house knows that is “Voni’s cup” and when I drink coffee, I want it in that cup.
I use the cup constantly.
We don’t have a dishwasher (did you ever notice that without a dishwasher more things are dropped and broken?),
The sad day comes when my cup is dropped and the handle breaks off. But I can still use it, and I do.
By now, my husband is wondering what’s wrong with me. Our kitchen is full of an abundance of coffee mugs and coffee cups that we use for our Bible studies and get-togethers, when the apartment is full of people. (I love those times!)
Why am I still using this little coffee cup with no handle? He looks at me and shakes his head. I don’t need to ask him why that look: after 24 years of marriage we know each other’s body language pretty well.
I’ve even taken pictures of “my cup.” What is going on with me?
One surprisingly quiet afternoon, I’m sitting at the kitchen table sipping on some hot fresh coffee (out of my cracked cup,) looking out the window and thinking about some of these things and,
unexpectedly, I understand.
It is because I, too, am a “cracked cup.”
God knows all of my imperfections! All of the cracks and places where His love has glued me back together. But still He cherishes me, just as I am. I will never be a fancy and beautifully designed cup to serve kings. I like to go barefoot, touch and hug (doesn’t quite fit the model for royalty.) Even more so is this true as my outer shell is aging and exhibiting those tiny spider-web cracks that run all over aged porcelain. And the handle on my shell is cracking. But He still loves me! He created me with a purpose, to use in His hands.
How oftern I’ve crashed to the floor. He picks me up, puts me back together, and His glue makes me stronger and of more value to Him. In fact, the more He invests of Himself in me, the more He uses me in areas I never thought were possible to be used.
So, cracked, handle breaking, outer part of my cup showing age, my cup can still hold His Spirit for others to sense, taste, and experience God’s love.
That little cup is no longer with me . . .
It shattered on it’s last fateful fall onto a ceramic tile floor.
But the lessons I learned from it remain in my memory… and I still love my “little coffee cup.”
Can you think of yourself as a “cracked coffee cup?”
Seeing yourself as that, can you have more patience with yourself? Be able to laugh at yourself a little more?
Have you thought of how God can glue you back together when you are willing to put yourself into His hands?
Look in the mirror, see all the defects, and laugh.
It’s wonderful when we can recognize ourselves as “cracked coffee cups.”
Try it, and see.
Does He really know and understand you and I? Read Psalms 139.