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SPINNING

We are spun round and round by the everyday swirl of life. It feels as if I am a lump of clay spinning on a potter’s wheel. As a matter of fact, I AM. The Master’s touch presses in, reshaping me for His envisioned purpose. Why do I resist? My failed attempts at shaping myself should be evidence enough; yield to the Potter’s hands. Have Your way Lord, I am waiting yielded and still; mold me, make me after Your will.

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