p. 1 | CHOSEN VESSELS by Sarah Smiley

Seventh-day Adventist Publishing Association · Battle Creek, Mich. · Aug 14, 1879

CHOSEN VESSELS.

By Sarah Smiley

Parting words from Miss Sarah Smiley to Christian workers at the Home of Industry, on Saturday, February 15, 1879.

I FEEL like the little lad of whom we read in the Gospels, who had a very few loaves and a few small fishes—what were they among so many! I had only thought this afternoon of meeting a little circle of friends in a smaller room, and had only a little simple message. But I trust it may please God to bless it to some hungry or thirsty soul here.

There are a few precious words in the 9th chapter of Acts, that came to my mind when I was praying the Lord to give me a message for this afternoon. Verse 15: “The Lord said unto Ananias, go thy way: for he is a chosen vessel unto me to bear my name before the Gentiles, and kings, and the children of Israel.” A CHOSEN VESSEL! And so it is with you, dear friends: if God has called you to his service, you are chosen vessels,—chosen for the Lord. Chosen, not to live unto yourselves, but to bear the blessed name of Jesus before the world. Not in the way that Paul bore it, and yet to bear it as God may guide, to bear it to the rich and the poor, to the sinful and the suffering, to all classes and conditions of men. Not choosing your own vocation, but chosen by God to bear this blessed name. How all-important it is for us to get into the attitude where God may use us; so that there shall be the full consent of our will to his choice.

There is a precious passage in Isaiah bearing upon this. Chapter 64: 8: “But now, O Lord, thou art our Father; we are the clay, and thou our potter; and we all are the work of thy hand.” How fully and unconditionally the people came at that time, and put themselves into the Lord’s hand! Nothing can be more perfectly helpless than clay in the potter’s hand. It has no power to shape itself; everything depends on the potter’s choice and skill. “We are the clay, and thou our potter.” That is true, whether we give ourselves into the hands of God or not; it is always the relation which the soul bears to God. It is true, even while we are in rebellion against God. It is true of us while in the blessed process of reconciliation, and true throughout the whole of the glorious process and progress of redemption. If we do not put ourselves into his hands—if we think to keep this “free will” of ours, as we call it, we may find that the only freedom we have is to resist his blessed will and to mar ourselves,—to make ourselves vessels of wrath, which he will use in some way for his own name’s sake, but which will be cast aside as a potter’s vessel and be broken in pieces.

But God does not thus propose to use us. We are clearly told in Jeremiah that there is no absolute choice of any one to destruction. Our attitude changes the attitude of the unchanging God. According to our attitude before him does he put himself before us. How full of instruction are these verses, chapter 18: 6–10. God tells us plainly that he changes his plans according as we change ours. If, then, we see that it is to our interest and for God’s glory that in everything we should be as clay in his hands, what is the attitude that we must have? Perfect submission to God—surrender of our being entirely to him. If this is not done, it brings much harm to us subsequently as vessels for the Lord.

The first time I went to a potter’s house was in a very remote part of the Southern States. I do not know that what I witnessed there would be a fair sample of the ruder forms of pottery, but I judge it was. I had never seen a vessel shaped on the wheel before, and I asked the potter to let me see him make one. He took a little lump of clay, but instead of putting it immediately on the wheel, he took it in one hand and began to give it very heavy blows with his fist. I almost thought he was angry with the poor clay before him, and I said, “What are you doing with it? I thought you were going to make a vessel.” “So I am when I get it ready. I am getting the bubbles out of it. If I were to put it on the wheel as it is, it would be spoiled in a few moments. One of those little bubbles would mar all my work. So I beat it and beat it, and in this way get all the air out of it.”

Ah! I thought, so does God have to treat us. The great difficulty with us is those little bubbles of self-conceit, of our own self-will, and sometimes of our self-righteousness—something that, in the process of God’s work, would wonderfully mar it. So he has to deal with us severely; but he is not angry with the poor clay before him. He is not angry with us when he puts us through this process of adversity. He is only getting out of us all that would mar his blessed work. How wise it is, then, for us just to accept, with perfect simplicity, his will!

I can never forget the first time I heard a saying that originated with one whose name is well known to many—Alfred Cockman, whose last words were, “I am sweeping through the gates, washed in the blood of the Lamb!” A few weeks before his death he stated to a friend of mine that he thought his whole life had become a continual “Yes” to God’s dealings with him. Sometimes it was joy, sometimes it was trial and sorrow; but he had learned, whatsoever came, to recognize God’s hand in it and say, “Yes, Lord, yes!” So the sting was taken out of every sorrow; the Lord took him into his blessed hand to shape him.

When the process of reconciliation has begun, and God is going on with us in this wonderful process of redemption, seeking our full development, what does he do with us, his vessels? It seems to me that nothing could be more beautiful than the figure which the servant of God has chosen to show God’s work upon us. “We are the clay, and thou our potter.” With all the improvements that have gone on in other things, the choicest vessels are still shaped precisely as the prophet saw them shaped—upon the wheel. If we go to Minton’s Works, for example, and witness the formation of the choicest vessels, they are made exactly as they were in Jeremiah’s time. They are not made by machinery—some of the commoner kinds are—but the choicest things are not put into molds, they are emphatically the work of the potter’s hand. When the clay has been taken into the potter’s hands the process begins, and then the potter’s hand is everywhere. It is round about it, within it, without it, forming it, shaping it, widening it, or narrowing it; and his eye is continually upon it to see if it pleases him.

While watching the work and noticing the material, I put some questions as to what sort of clay they used. I was told that some of the very choicest preparations were made out of flint. They ground it, and out of the hardest stones they formed the best vessels. And so God takes some of the strongest wills, those who are the most rigid, firm and unyielding, breaks down their stubbornness and makes them his chosen vessels. Yesterday it was my sad and blessed privilege to give a last look upon the face of one whom none of us can ever see again on earth—that dear Christian worker, Mrs. Ranyard—whom God has blessed so wonderfully. I looked on that lovely face as it lay in death, and the death smile was so like the smile that I had seen it wear in life! I had never seen anything in life but gentleness and love upon her features; but in death, through the sweetness and the smile, one could see in those firmly pressed lips all the wonderful power of will there was behind it. If it had not been consecrated, what then? Many a will like that is moving through this world, a source of misery to others; but when yielded up to God, it is one of the choicest gifts that he can give us. The Potter knows how to subdue it. It may take a severe process, but I am sure we will let him do anything he chooses.

As we have sometimes looked at the poor shapeless clay in the pit, and have seen no beauty in it, and perhaps have seen it again in the rare beautiful vase that was an exquisite work of art, we remember that such is the difference between us as living our own lives, keeping ourselves in our own hands, and when we put ourselves into the hands of God. There is nothing lovely about us while we are living to self, but God takes us into his blessed hands and makes us his choice vessels. We become his workmanship to his praise.

We have sometimes known what it was to walk along the rough roads where the clay became a positive hindrance to us; but when the potter has taken it, it has become changed into some choice vessel, to be lifted to our lips as a cup to give us refreshment. This but feebly expresses the difference in our lives when living to ourselves and when living to God. In the one case we are a hindrance to every one that comes along our pathway, just clogging every homeward traveler. But when God has taken us and used us, we can carry refreshment to all, cheering them day by day.

But some may find that they have to go through a severer process than others. In those beautiful works I have mentioned, I lingered long in the room where the painting was done. After having seen the artist give the finishing touch to a choice vessel, I said, “Now that is all done, except, of course, that it has to go through the fire!” “Oh, no.” “Why,” I said, “your work is finished?” “Just for the present it is.” And then he explained that after it was burned and had passed through the furnace, nearly all the color was taken out of it. There would be just a little of the ground-work left, and the artist had to go over it again, putting in every single touch with just as much pains as before. Otherwise, he said, it would not be lasting. Never till I heard him say that, did I quite comprehend how it was in some of our life experiences. Every one of us who has passed through the furnace will understand all about the experience. When it came we supposed we were going to grow in grace; but instead of that, it took every grace out of us. We thought we were patient, and we found we were not. And so one grace after another that we trusted God had put into us, seemed to dissolve away. That is often the first result of trial. But God is just grounding all graces more deeply, taking out of us all our conceit about them, all our knowledge and consciousness of them, doing the work more thoroughly, engraving his beautiful patterns down out of sight of man, so that it should be a permanent basis for all those after touches which he shall put upon us, and which shall abide. Never let us be discouraged if the first result of trial seems to be the loss of our virtues and graces rather than the strengthening of them. The Lord always knows what he is about.

I do not know why I should speak so much about the furnace, because I believe it is our privilege to be very rejoicing Christians. But I believe, also, that we have come upon times when God will more and more try his people. How significant are the words of Peter—literally they should be read—“It is the time of judgment beginning at the house of God.” For we, God’s chosen vessels, constitute this “house of God,” as now representing him on the earth. And we must expect that these judgments that are by-and-by to fall upon the earth—but from which God has promised he will keep his own overcoming ones free—in some anticipatory form will come upon us. He will search us and try us, and see if there be any evil way in us, and take out of us everything that mars us as vessels for his use, and so fit us to bear his name effectually before the world that so greatly needs us.

Now let us look for a moment at some of the little things that mar our usefulness. If we have not been thoroughly transformed; if, when God is calling us, we draw back or are unfaithful, we cannot expect to be anything but poor leaky vessels. I often see those beautiful little jars and other vessels used so much now for ornaments, and when I have asked if they would hold water, the answer has always been, “They would not do for that, they have not been burned sufficiently.” It may be that there are some Christians who attract the eye and yet cannot do the work that God wishes them to do. God may fill them with his Spirit, but it passes away; they have never been sufficiently chastened by God to become effectual holders of the blessed truth committed to their trust.

Again, it seems as if many of the vessels the Lord deigns to use were like those we have seen sometimes in traveling and in some homes, where all the dishes seem to get “nicked,”—not broken or cast aside, but all the edges nicked. They have answered the purpose, though not so pleasant to the eye. We do not like to have the nicked side come next to our lips. How many a blessed draught may be refused because it is put into a nicked cup. We want not only to be full of power, but to bear it in a befitting way, so that the cup itself shall correspond to the joyous wine of refreshment which God sees fit to put into us. Another truth is very beautifully conveyed.

to us in Numbers 19: 15, “And every open vessel which hath no covering bound upon it is unclean.” It was on account of the presence of death that this was spoken. Everything that came in contact with death in any form became unclean. So we live in an atmosphere of death, in a world that lieth in the wicked one, amongst those who are dead in trespasses and sins. And as the open vessel when it was exposed to the air was sure to contract impurity, so we must have something to come between us and the world; we must be covered from its corrupting power. All our greatest dangers come from the atmosphere that surrounds us. Nearly all the skepticism that is making its way in this country and across the sea, comes—so to speak—from the atmosphere more than from the direct touch. It has got into our literature, and pervades so much of the conversation we hear, that unless we are covered with the power of God, and unless the covering be bound upon the vessels—our life hid with Christ in God—the subtle, corrupting influence will be sure to get into our hearts, and the vessel will become unclean.

One other thing connected with these vessels is that the choicest ones do not always get the most common use. In a great house some cups are on the table every day; but there are some that only come out on occasions. We recognize the fitness of this, and I believe it is so in the great house of our God. The vessels that are only sometimes used, and for great purposes, are as truly doing the will of God when waiting as though they were restlessly working. It is a truth that needs great care in its application, and yet it seems to be clearly taught by God’s way of working with us. I shall never forget when I returned to America, after my first visit to this country about ten years ago, how I felt, so flat, and empty, and useless, that a fear came into my heart that God was setting me aside. A dear friend wrote from your land, sending me this little message: “The wine cup or glass when it has been used and washed is turned upside down and set upon a shelf, but it is just as valuable as it ever was. It is not cast aside because it is not at that moment used.” So I felt like the poor, empty glass, turned upside down, as it were, left to wait and rest a little while; not cast aside at all, but waiting till He should find something to fill the poor glass again. So there may be moments in our lives when we have to turn aside to rest awhile. And my figure does not hold good perfectly,—the analogy fails here,—for I am sure that such a time of rest and being alone with God is the most profitable. It is a time when the vessel may not exactly be put to the lips of any one to refresh them with a cooling draught, but it may be a time when the vessel is being more effectually cleansed, and then to be filled and filled to overflowing; until, wherever it goes, it is always ready to give refreshment to others, in bearing about the blessed name of Jesus.

Now, dear friends, we do not exactly know each other here to-day, but God knows all our hearts. May it be that as he looks down on us, he is saying, “Chosen vessels”; she is a chosen vessel to bear my name; he is a chosen vessel to bear my name. What have we been bearing? Let us remember it is JESUS’ NAME. It is not earthly aid merely, not merely comfort or relief from suffering, but the name of Jesus. If we do our service rightly, though it be only giving a garment to some shivering person, or putting a crumb of bread into some poor hungry mouth, along with that must go something of the name of Jesus. We act as the representatives of the Lord Jesus, and if we have done these things in love, then that is the name of Jesus, for his name is Love. And we have thus passed on a little of that blessed name—commended him unto those who thus know the Master’s love by what his servants do.

Let, then, our uppermost thought be this: in word or deed, eating or drinking, or whatsoever we do, do it in the name of the Lord Jesus. Oh, may we realize what that name is more and more—that wondrous name, and all that it means. His cross, his blood, his resurrection, his intercession, all that is included in the dear name of Jesus—never to be told throughout eternity. And then the name of the Holy Spirit, Sanctifier, Comforter, and Teacher, may we bear that name, and never forget any of the names,—Father, Son, and Holy Spirit, having them dwelling in our hearts so richly by faith, that we may be always “filled with the Spirit.”—God’s chosen vessels, bearing his blessed name wherever he shall lead us.