March 19As obedient children, not fashioning yourselves according to the former lusts in your ignorance; but as he which hath called you is holy, so be ye holy in all manner of conversation — 1 Pet. 1:14, 15.
Some Christians have the erroneous idea that God does all the fashioning, and that His children are to be merely passive in His hand; but Peter does not so express it. He exhorts us to fashion ourselves according to the Divine instructions. There is work to be done in us and about us, and those who are not up and doing, but who passively sit and wait for the Lord to work miracles in their behalf, are greatly deceived and are giving the enemy great advantage over them, which he will certainly use to bind them hand and foot and cast them into outer darkness, unless they bestir themselves to work out their own salvation with fear and trembling—Z '03, 55 (R 3150). We were once Satan's servants, governing our conduct by sinfulness, selfishness, worldliness, ignorance and error. Now as God's children we would obey the will of Him who is holy, whose perfect will, blending wisdom, justice, love and power, and taken into the heart, transforms His children into His own character likeness; and the contrast between the old disposition and the new is greater than that between night and day—P '36, 31. Parallel passages: Gal. 4:6; 3:26; Rom. 12:2; 8:14-16; 1 Pet. 4:2; 1 John 2:15; 3:3; Luke 1:74, 75; Eph. 2:10; 1 Cor. 2:12; 6:9-11; 2 Cor. 7:1; 1 Thes. 4:7; Heb. 12:14; 2 Pet. 3:11; Col. 1:22; Lev. 11:44; 19:2. Hymns: 91, 21, 74, 78, 90, 194, 267. Poems of Dawn, 43: The Transformation. Tower Reading: Z '14, 184 (R 5481). Questions: What have been this week's experiences in line with this text? How were they met? With what results? |
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THE TRANSFORMATION
TO the Potter's house I went down one day,
And watched him while moulding the vessels of clay,
And many a wonderful lesson I drew,
As I noted the process the clay went through.
Trampled and broken, down-trodden and rolled,
To render more plastic and fit for the mould
How like the clay that is human, I thought,
When in Heavenly hands to perfection brought!
For Self must be cast as the dust at His feet,
Before it is ready, for service made meet.
And Pride must be broken, and self-will lost—
All laid on the altar, whatever the cost.
But lo! by and by, a delicate vase
Of wonderful beauty and exquisite grace.
Was it once the vile clay? Ah! yes; yet how strange,
The Potter hath wrought such a marvelous change!
Not a trace of the earth, nor mark of the clay—
The fires of the furnace have burned them away.
Wondrous skill of the Potter!—the praise is his due,
In whose hands to perfection and beauty it grew.
Thus with souls lying still, content in God's hand,
That do not His power of working withstand—
They are moulded and fitted, a treasure to hold,
Vile clay now transformed into purest of gold.
TO the Potter's house I went down one day,
And watched him while moulding the vessels of clay,
And many a wonderful lesson I drew,
As I noted the process the clay went through.
Trampled and broken, down-trodden and rolled,
To render more plastic and fit for the mould
How like the clay that is human, I thought,
When in Heavenly hands to perfection brought!
For Self must be cast as the dust at His feet,
Before it is ready, for service made meet.
And Pride must be broken, and self-will lost—
All laid on the altar, whatever the cost.
But lo! by and by, a delicate vase
Of wonderful beauty and exquisite grace.
Was it once the vile clay? Ah! yes; yet how strange,
The Potter hath wrought such a marvelous change!
Not a trace of the earth, nor mark of the clay—
The fires of the furnace have burned them away.
Wondrous skill of the Potter!—the praise is his due,
In whose hands to perfection and beauty it grew.
Thus with souls lying still, content in God's hand,
That do not His power of working withstand—
They are moulded and fitted, a treasure to hold,
Vile clay now transformed into purest of gold.
