| GRAPES DON’T GRUNT I wish I had walked away from myself sooner. I have spent too much energy trying to be the potter. I don’t even know what the “pot” should look like. Creating without vision is spinning the wheel in the dark. I wish I had executed my will sooner. I have spent too much energy trying to be the Vine. I don’t even know the Master’s taste in wine. My loud grunting doesn’t make a better grape. I wish I had left myself alone sooner. He knows what the “pot” should look like. He alone can keep me centered on the spinning wheel. He alone knows how to shape me. I wish I had learned to trust the Lord to fix me sooner. He alone knows the wine’s bouquet. He alone knows how long it must sit. And the best time to pour it out. It’s better to be the clay centered on the wheel. It’s better to be the grape connected to the vine. It’s better to let him mould and nourish. Because clay can’t spin and grapes don’t grunt. |