In the Hands of the Potter

A shaft of morning sunlight fell through the small window of the potter's house, creating a yellow circle on the earthen floor. Shelves lined the walls, each one holding many clay pots, jars, bowls, vases, and cups, all beautifully carved and painted. A broom stood in the corner for sweeping up bits of clay that fell, but by the looks of the floor, it hadn't been used in a long time. The potter's wheel stood in the center of the room, with a three-legged stool pulled up to it, on which sat the potter. His hands where caked with clay, and little bits of it stuck in his hair and on his robe. A quiet whirrr emanated from the quickly spinning wheel, and as it spun, the faint sound of the potter patting the jar into shape could be heard. Another stool sat in the corner, and on it rested a girl about thirteen years old, with bright blue eyes and straight black hair. Her name is Rebekah, and she is the potter's daughter. As Rebekah watched the pot take shape, she noticed her father had formed the jar with to small of a neck. The potter shook his head, and smashed the jar into a lump of clay again. Rebekah gasped at how he had ruined it, but her father just smiled and turned to her.
"It's alright, Rebekah. You see, for the pot to be made right, I must start again. What seems so wrong will actually make the jar better in the end." Rebekah nodded slowly.
After the jar was finally finished, it looked more like a water jug. Rebekah's father explained that that was just what it was. As he showed her the beautiful swirls of red, blue, yellow, and green on it's sides, he told, like always, her that although the jug was beautiful, it was also useful.
"Just like you, Rebekah." He always said.
Many weeks went by, and, just like every morning, Rebekah took the jug to the well for water again. As she brought it out of the deep hole with a strong rope, she noticed how dusty the peice of pottery had become. The beautiful painting was hardly even visible! As Rebekah tried to brush some of the dirt off, she suddenly realized the truth of what her father had always told her. The jug was like her! She new that to God, she was beautiful and usefull, just like this jug was to her father. She also decided that the dust on the jug was like what her mother had always told her about keeping herself pure. If she gave away her purity before marriage, she would cover the beauty of who God had made her to be, and spoil her testimony, just like throwing dust over all the beautiful paintings on the jug. She knew that just like the dust cold be wiped off the jug, her Father in Heaven would always forgive her. However, just like over time the dirt and sand would wear some of the paint away, she would still have consequeces for her actions. Now she understood!
Girls, you're like Rebekah's jug too, and God is your potter. If you remain pure from now until you get married, you will still be just as beautiful as God made you to be in the first place.