Finding our purpose

In the potter’s hand, the clay was molded as it twirled around the wheel. With the hand of a master on the inside and out, the lump of clay slowly began to rise and take shape. In a matter of minutes, the moist clay, in the shape of an urn, was placed on a rack to dry. It would be placed with the other urns in the potter’s shop when it was ready, and the urn marveled at what it had become. It gave thanks for its creation and the skill of the potter.

Sitting in the shop, the feelings of gratitude gave way to feelings of emptiness. It’s size and lines spoke of a special purpose, but sitting in the dusty corner with the other urns made it question why it had ever been made in the first place.

“What good is it if I am not used for the purpose for which I was created?” it thought to itself. “I was made to carry things, and here I sit empty.”

A week later an excited servant arrived with the specific task of purchasing seven urns for an upcoming wedding. The disgruntled urn was one of the urns selected, and its feelings of frustration and emptiness soon disappeared. It was excitement the urn felt as it was placed in the banquet hall. The urn felt a sense of purpose as it was filled with water, but once the wedding festivities began those feelings disappeared.

“Just look at those bowls filled with delicious food on the table,” the urn said to the others. “And look at the vases full of flowers, while we sit here with plain old water.”

The others did not mind holding the water, but this particular urn was still searching for a greater purpose. Yes, it was wonderfully made, and, yes, it was doing a fine job holding the water, but he longed for more. It wanted to be a part of the banquet, holding something important.

Just then, the urns heard the servants discussing the fact that all the wine was gone. Looking frantically for more, they realized every drop had been served. Without wine, the party would end, and people became sad and quiet.

A servant passed by the urns and suddenly smelled the unmistakable smell of wine. Looking around, he discovered seven urns full of the finest wine he had ever tasted. Suddenly the urns became the center of attention. Although it had no idea how the water had become wine, it didn't really care. As the urn was lifted to fill the glasses of the guests, it felt like it had finally found its purpose. “This is what I was made for,” it sighed.

Those who have ears to hear, let them hear. (Painting by Sudie Anderson, a resident artist at the GSC)