My Watch

I have a watch, a pocket watch, which Mary gave me quite a few years ago.  It has a cover that is opened with a push of a button and inside the cover is a picture of Mary we made back in 1971 in a cotton field in Spain. 



I carried the watch for a number of years then I quit because the chain had come loose and could not be re-attached.   I took it to a jeweler once but he had no way to re-attach the chain so I quit carrying the watch and put it in a drawer.  Eventually the battery died.



Three years ago we moved to North Carolina and recently I took my watch to another jeweler hoping they could get it running again and attach the chain.   They had to send it out, which did not surprise me. About three weeks later the watch came back running and with the chain attached. It is again in my pocket where it belongs.



I put it to my ear and listen for the familiar tick-tick of a watch but it’s not there.  Instead I hear a sound that is unfamiliar but is recurring every few seconds, something like someone shuffling along in slippers. 



It’s more accurate than the wind-up type of pocket watch I use to carry.  When I was working in the fields of area farmers back in my junior high and high school days I would wind and set my watch each morning before leaving the house.  With this one I set it once and then look at it several times daily and it continues to keep correct time.



I sometimes put it on my desk in front of me.  I watch as it ticks off each second then pauses before moving on to the next second.   And I wonder what did I accomplish in that second?  Did I waste it?  Did I contribute to the well-being of anyone with it?  Or did I allow it to be relegated to the past unused, unaccomplished?  A terrible waste.



The same goes for unused, uninvested minutes and days and weeks and years.  Can I say that I accomplished anything yesterday or the day before?  How about last year, did I use it wisely to the glory of God?  For what other reason is there for life?  We were created to glorify Him.  Was He glorified in that last second, minute, day or year?  Or lifetime?



I hope so. 

JACOBY

            There once was a potter named Jacoby.  Jacoby had been a potter most of his life having followed in his father’s footsteps.  His hands were worn and knarled from kneading and shaping his clay day in and day out for decades.  His back was stooped from bending over the wheel for hours at a time. Jacoby was up in years having passed his 60^th birthday and counting and his hair was as white as the snow atop of Mount Hermon. 

            He lived above his small shop with Sarah his wife of many years.  She was a seamstress by trade who also loved to cook.  Sarah was a short squat little lady.  She had a wonderful smile and a memorable laugh which could be heard in the street below their open living room window.  When Jacoby arose for the day she had an egg omelet waiting for him.  As soon as he was out the door Sarah was making the bed and cleaning house.  About mid-morning she could be found near her sewing supplies in the living area making clothes for sale at the local market.  In the late afternoon Sarah went to the market to drop off the clothing she had finished making and to shop for fresh vegetables and meat for supper.  She would walk between the booths looking and touching and smelling.  The aroma of fresh-baked bred and rolls was always prevalent.   

            Their house was the same size as the shop below but had the added space of the roof above for evening conversation and relaxation.  There were two rooms, the kitchen-dining area and the living-bed area. 

After breakfast each morning Jacoby would descend the steps to his shop, open the door to the fresh air and go to work preparing the clay for the day’s creations.   The shop room was somewhat smallish, about the size of a stable with a couple of stalls.  Often a friend would step in but Jacoby would continue working through the visit.  If he and Sarah wanted to eat he had to create items for sale. 

Jacoby had created many wonderful articles in his life as a potter.  He had made bowls that the women of the village used to prepare their meals.  He had made pitchers from which to pour the wines that accompanied the meals.

Perhaps he formed the chalice that Jesus passed to his disciples at the first communion.

Perhaps Jacoby made the jug that the woman brought to the well for water.

Perhaps he created the stone water jars used in the wedding feast at Cana.

            Jacoby was not a rich man in terms of worldly possessions but he was a man at great peace having discovered early in life what God had called him to do.  Jacoby could have made decorative devices to sit on the shelf or hang on the wall but he was much more practical; he made utensils to be used, tools to help his fellow man. 

He was used to working alone and he would work for hours at a time creating his wares.   Jacoby would take a pound of clay and put it on his work table.  He sprinkled on water and kneaded the clay to an even consistency.  From the work table the clay went to the wheel to be turned into an article of art.   Turning the table using a foot pedal, Jacoby would patiently form the raw clay into his objects. He rounded and shaped it with his hands.  Using his fingers on the inside and a hand on the outside Jacoby would grow the creation to the desired height.  From a second piece of clay he formed the handle and pressed it to the side of the cup or pitcher. 

Jacoby adhered to Jeremiah 18:4  “But the vessel he was shaping from the clay was marred in his hands; so the potter formed it into another vessel, shaping it as seemed best to him.” 

Jacoby then fired the green clay pieces in the kiln adding wood every few hours to maintain the hot temperature.  He then gently removed his vessels from the kiln to allow them to cool.  With a fine eye he inspected each piece as it came from the kiln.  He took pride in the final product. 

God too shapes the clay of his handiwork.  In the womb He forms us into the vessels He would have us be.  Through our life experiences we are baked in the kiln of life and through these events God accomplishes His work here on earth.    None of us are perfect but by His grace we are forgiven and saved.  We all meet God’s perfect standards to be used for His purposes.  It is not for us to ask why or how, He will provide the means through which we are to serve.