My hands and my feet were shackled with the chains of my sin. A cold cell of loneliness is where I sat alone, unloved, unwanted. There was no hope for a reckless image like me. Until you came along and saw my brokenness and bought me for a price.
What you see is a beautiful masterpiece, but I see a mess with a nose for trouble. I find myself falling into dangerous ditches that come with consequences, and the pain that hits afterwards. Yet, you leave me puzzled because you still decide to work on me.
May I open my mouth and ask what you see in me?
I see someone who chases after desires that last only for a moment, leading your masterpiece into an ending of ruin. Afraid of your response to my own destruction, I try to fix myself and my wicked ways. But how do I straighten a crooked path? When everything I touch proves [be sure to finish this thought]
When every path I take ends in a dead end, I lift my eyes and cry to you for help.
I expect anger frustration, but you don't say a word. Instead, you put me on your potter's wheel and fix me. With your loving hands, you hold my brokenness and place me on your potter's wheel. Your mighty hand grabs the chisel and takes away all of my rough edges and unnecessary clay that chokes the light inside of me.
You make me whole again, and free of the chains that I have entangled myself in, and in the end, I realize only you have the tools to fix the mess within me.
