Crystal Goblets and Peanut Butter Jars

Here's another poem by Bob Benson, from Laughter in the Walls p. 44

Shortly after Peg and I were married,

Mrs. Payne gave me

four lovely crystal goblets.

They were even lovlier because

she told me

they were the only four remaining

of the crystal she recieved

for her own wedding

some sixty years earlier.

They were thin,

beautifully shaped

and delicately etched.

We still have them at our house.

We decided not to use Mrs. Payne's crystal

As a matter of fact,

we decided not to use ours, either.

We're saving it for "good,"

whenever that comes.

If using crystal is the basis

for judging our married life,

we haven't had much "good."

Of all the things that were given to

us some twenty-five years ago,

the crystal is probably

the least used.

The toaster and the mixer

have long since bitten the dust.

We could use another linen shower.

But the crystal is still there.

We just use everyday glasses

like you do.

I don't know why,

but I like glasses to match.

They're not too expensive,

so when I buy Christmas gifts

I usually end up with a set

of glasses.

The last thing I do on Christmas Eve

after Peg has gone to bed,

and after the bikes are

put together,

is to take all the old glasses out

and stand the new ones

in neat, orderly rows.

After a few weeks the same thing

always begins to happen.

Someone will empty

the peanut butter jar.

Someone else will stick it

in the dishwasher.

Someone else will put

the jar on the shelf.

At last, it shows up

on the dinner table.

There it is--

thick and ugly--

with part of the label

still attached.

There is no delicate etching.

It doesn't match.

It's just a big, old

ex-peanut butter jar.

We all know that there are people

who seem to have

all the natural graces.

They know just what to say

and when to say it.

They move through life with ease

and are like a benediction

wherever they go.

They are Mrs. Payne's

crystal glasses.

Some folks are like that.

They are better by nature

than others are by grace.

Now, I hate to bring this up,

Maybe I don't even need to,

I'll just mention it.

We all know some folks

who are like

peanut butter jars.

You know--

part of the label is still hanging on.

There's not much grace

and beauty about them.

They are always blurting out

the wrong thing

at the wrong time.

You would think

that by law of averages

they would accidentally say

the right thing once in awhile.

They are the people who say,

"I've always liked that

blue dress on you," or

"I like that suit better

than the ones you're wearing

these days."

"You are vessels unto honor,"

Paul writes.

The variety of vessels

proves that what matters is not that

we are goblets

or peanut butter jars

or root beer mugs.

The difference proves that

the power does not

come from us.

The power is God's alone.

We are not great because

of what we are.

We are great because

of what we contain.

He has made you a

"depository of truth."

The secret is this:

Christ in you.