In Jars of Clay {tales of a hometown missionary}

I was fifteen the first time I stepped foot into another country. The blistering heat, the half naked children running the streets, the stench of open sewers. It ruined me.  Shook the core of my American idealist mentality. Left my soul thirsting for truth. 

I promised myself, right there on those dust covered streets, that I would never be a young person without direction. If I turned eighteen and didn’t know what God wanted from me, I would return to this desolate land and work until I figured it out.

My ideals were so high. The clay pot of my human thinking still smooth. It was the best I could offer at that point in my life and I’m thankful that God looks at the heart because I had much to learn. In the days ahead I would discover that God never meant for us to serve from smooth containers.  He has purpose in cracks and scars. He longs to give us springs of living water within and He desires, more than anything, that we leave trails of life-giving water behind. (<–Tweet this!)

The truth would come, with time and pain, and the jars would blister and crack open-wide. And I would see deeper than I ever had before. And Love would come in and rearrange and fill and overflow and transform.

But we have this treasure in jars of clay to show that this all-surpassing power is from God and not from us.  2 Corinthians 4:7

Part One: {In Jars of Clay}
Part Two: {Wind and Waves}
Part Three: {Miracles and Mustard Seeds}
Part Four: {Labels and Trust}
Part Five: {To Flourish}
Part Six: {Seeing True}
Part Seven: {Songs to Believe In}
Part Eight: {Apple Pie and Eye Shadow}
Part Nine: {Baptism of Grace}
Part Ten: {Broken Stories}
Part Eleven: {Wandering-Lost}

17 thoughts on “In Jars of Clay {tales of a hometown missionary}

  1. Great beginning story Natasha! I always enjoy stopping by to talk to you! Have a God inspired day sister! I love how God knows how to open our eyes up a little wider… ~ Blessings from Maine, Amy 🙂


    • Thanks for the note, Amy! I’m excited about going back through these few years of my life. They were quite the adventure!
      I am continually blessed by your sunny smile and sweetness. ❤


  2. “I promised myself, right there on those dust covered streets, that I would never be a young person without direction.” I remember that moment. It was different – it came at a different moment and in a different place. But I remember it …

    Somehow … I’d like to help other girls have that moment, make that promise, too.


      • My parents used to buy milk from the local dairy too it came in these heavy glass milk bottels with plastic caps. At my parents house there are two refrigerators, the main one in the kitchen then an old klunker in the basement for overflow and extra stuff that doesn’t fit in the main one. We used to buy several half gallons of milk at a time, and the extras were kept in that basement overflow fridge. Once my parents got a quart of chocolate milk from the farm as a treat I guess they made it fresh out there too. We rarely had sweets or junk food in the house so it was a big deal. I was tasked with putting it in the basement fridge for later. The fridge was full and I could barely fit it in. I held it with my hand and then quickly slammed the door before it could fall out. It was only after the door was closed when I realized that the next person who opened the door would cause the precious chocolate milk to fall onto the concrete basement and shatter. I was terrified, both of losing the milk and also of being responsible for an accident. I fretted about it for an hour or so, hanging around the top of the basement steps in case someone went down there. I finally worked up the courage to admit my problem to mom, who carefully opened the fridge and saved the day.One of the few country things that I’m nostalgic for is farm fresh milk and cream.


  3. Pingback: Wind and Waves {tales of a hometown missionary} | embracing the miracle

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  5. Pingback: Labels and Trust {tales of a hometown missionary} | embracing the miracle

  6. Pingback: to flourish {tales of a hometown missionary} | embracing the miracle

  7. Pingback: Seeing True {tales of a hometown missionary} | embracing the miracle

  8. Pingback: Songs to Believe In {tales of a hometown missionary} | embracing the miracle

  9. Pingback: Apple Pie and Eye Shadow {tales of a hometown missionary} |

  10. Pingback: A Radical Idea |

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  12. Pingback: Broken Stories {tales of a hometown missionary} | Natasha Metzler

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