A water bearer in India had two large pots, each hung on each end of a pole which he carried across his neck. One of the pots had a crack in it, and while the other pot was perfect and always delivered a full portion of water at the end of the long walk from the stream to the master’s house, the cracked pot arrived only half full. For a full two years this went on daily, with the bearer delivering only one and a half pots full of water in his master’s house. Of course, the perfect pot was proud of its accomplishments, perfect to the end for which it was made. But the poor cracked pot was ashamed of its own imperfection, and miserable that it was able to accomplish only half of what it had been made to do.

After two years of what it perceived to be a bitter failure, it spoke to the water bearer one day by the stream. “I am ashamed of myself, and I want to apologize to you.” “Why?” asked the bearer. “What are you ashamed of?” “I have been able, for these past two years, to deliver only half my load because this crack in my side causes water to leak out all the way back to your master’s house. Because of my flaws, you have to do all of this work, and you don’t get full value from your efforts,” the pot said. The water bearer felt sorry for the old cracked pot, and in his compassion he said, “As we return to the master’s house, I want you to notice the beautiful flowers along the path.” Indeed, as they went up the hill, the old cracked pot took notice of the sun warming the beautiful wild flowers on the side of the path, and this cheered it some. But at the end of the trail, it still felt bad because it had leaked out half its load, and so again it apologized to the bearer for its failure.

The bearer said to the pot, “Did you notice that there were flowers only on your side of your path, but not on the other pot’s side? That’s because I have always known about your flaw, and I took advantage of it. I planted flower seeds on your side of the path, and every day while we walk back from the stream, you’ve watered them. For two years I have been able to pick these beautiful flowers to decorate my master’s table. Without you being just the way you are, he would not have this beauty to grace his house.”

Each of us has our own unique flaws. We are all cracked pots. But if we will allow it, the Lord will use our flaws to grace His Father’s table. In God’s great economy, nothing goes to waste. So as we seek ways to minister together, and as God calls you to the tasks He has appointed for you, don’t be afraid of your flaws. Acknowledge them, and allow Him to take advantage of them, and you, too, can be the cause of beauty in His pathway. Go out boldly, knowing that in our weakness we find His strength, and that “In Him every one of God’s promises is a ‘Yes.’”

• The man who puts God’s business above any other business.

• The man who brings his children to church rather than sending them.

• The man who is willing to be the right example to every boy he meets.

• The man who thinks more of his Sunday school class than his Sunday sleep.

• The man who measures his giving by what he has left, rather than by the amount he gives.

• The man who goes to church for Christ’s sake rather than for himself or for someone else.

• The man who has a willing mind rather than a brilliant mind.

• The man who has a passion to help rather than a passion to be helped.

• The man who can see his own faults before he sees the faults of others.

• The man who is more concerned about willing others for Christ than he is about winning worldly honor.

This story comes from a Sunday school ministry in the part of New York City that has been rated the “most likely place to get killed.” The pastor Bill Wilson himself has been stabbed twice, shot at, and a member of his team killed. But he stays there, and not without controversy, ministers in Jesus’ name to people the rest of the church has largely forgotten. The largest bus ministry in America is not in the suburbs, but in Hell’s Kitchen. Here’s a story in Bill’s words:

“One Puerto Rican lady, after getting saved in church, came to me with an urgent request. She didn’t speak a word of English, so she told me through an interpreter, “I want to do something for God, please.”

“I don’t know what you can do,” I answered.

“Please, let me do something,” she said in Spanish.

“Okay. I’ll put you on a bus. Ride a different bus every week and just love the kids.”

So every week she rode a different bus — we have 50 of them — and loved the children. She would find the worst-looking kid on the bus, put him on her lap and whisper over and over the only words she had learned in English: “I love you. Jesus loves you.”

After several months, she became attached to one little boy in particular. “I don’t want to change buses anymore. I want to stay on this one bus,” she said.

The boy didn’t speak. He came to Sunday school every week with his sister and sat on the woman’s lap, but he never made a sound. And each week she would tell him all the way to Sunday school and all the way home, “I love you and Jesus loves you.”

One day, to her amazement, the little boy turned around and stammered,
“I-I love you, too.” Then he put his arms around her and gave her a big hug.

That was 2:30 on a Saturday afternoon. At 6:30 that night, the boy was found dead in a garbage bag under a fire escape. His mother had beaten him to death and thrown his body in the trash.

“I love you and Jesus loves you.” Those were some of the last words he heard in his short life — from the lips of a Puerto Rican woman who could barely speak English.

You — one person — can make a difference. In Jesus’ name, let yourself get close enough to people who hurt. Feel the pain. See the death. Feel the urgency. Take your stand between the living and the dead.”