Susan LaffertyI keep it on my desk. This broken piece of a red clay. What remained after the common clay jar fell off the shelf one day. My one semester in pottery class taught me a lot about clay and kilns. And the fragility of earthen vessels. One small pebble could break apart a potter’s masterpiece as it was formed on the wheel or as it baked in the kiln.
The words stopped short of my lips. Almost there. Almost uttered into the air. But held back. I knew they were the most important words in the world. Simple. Direct truth. The gospel.
But I hesitated. And blamed shyness. Blamed my inadequacy to express it correctly. No matter how many times I memorized Bible verses and methods of explaining the good news, it never seemed to come out right. What if my stumbling attempt to share the gospel hit someone the wrong way and turned them away from seeking Jesus?
Isaac lay on the altar watching his father prepare to sacrifice. No sacrificial animal in sight. A strange place for a beloved child. It didn’t make sense. His father had said “The Lord will provide, my son,” but time was drawing near and here he was, bound on the altar of sacrifice. Unexpected. Unexplained.