Mighty Warrior / Broken Vase

A prophetic word given by Patti Wasmuth on March 13, 2005:

“Hold fast to dreams for if dreams die, life is a broken winged bird that cannot fly.” -Langston Hughes

The Lord gave me the title of this book “Restoration of a Broken Vessel” about a year ago. When I looked up the word “restoration” it is defined as:

“A strategy, to rebuild something or bring it back into its original state”.

In light of unfulfilled dreams and the anticipation of reaching one’s destiny…

Recognize God wants to RESTORE His children. He desires to return them to His original plan and call forth the gold buried beneath years of accumulated debris. Garbage, that is hiding the real treasure inside. Tragically, many of God’s children have been betrayed, abused, and seem to have been robbed of their destiny. While on their pilgrimage they have become despondent, distressed, and destitute prisoner’s of an unseen war. The enemy of their soul seems to be triumphantly winning battles as they struggle “just to survive”. Many of these weary and debilitated soldiers were once impassioned visionary dreamers, but now, I see them everywhere, strewn about life’s gutters, like homeless vagabonds seeking purpose. Some are still sitting in the ashes of their lost dreams, fearful of risking yet another disappointment. So they remain paralyzed and unable to rise above the deluge of difficulties.

Recently, God gave me a picture of a bright colorful ribbon stretched taunt across a bridge. It symbolically designated a finish line, like the kind a runner would break through at the completion of a great race. It was the end marker of a journey toward destiny. As I looked toward this marker, I saw numerous people along the path, in different stages of their walk. As I glanced toward the finish line, it seemed there were many that had “lost their way”. Though I could see they were only steps away from the “finish-line marker, somehow, they had grown so weary, they could not even take one more step. Some were only inches away from the prize, but they could not see it. One elderly woman, who had “fought the good fight”, by struggling year after year forging toward her goal, finally decided she could not fight any longer. I watched her weak, tired, body collapse just beneath the ribbon, before crossing the finish line. Her bloody, wounded, knees revealed she had been crawling toward the mark for a very long time.

Next I saw numerous wounded soldiers sitting in scattered ruins and crying in despair. Though I could see the multitudes, their torrent of tears and suffering severely blinded them. Now, that they could no longer see where to walk, they sat down, desperately seeking solace. Some sat with their arms wrapped around themselves, rhythmically rocking back and forth while whimpering quietly. Others laid in a fetal position with their bodies shaking violently as deep heartfelt cries of desperation seemed to bounce off the silent heavens. A few of the soldiers filled with hostility, paced back and forth, like wild animals that had been cage. They defiantly shook their fists at God and demanded an explanation for their unanswered prayers.

Suddenly a Mighty Warrior appeared, His compelling demeanor, dispelled the darkness. He sat down in the dirty wreckage, and began to clean and bandage the fragile wounds of one of the hopeless pilgrims lying in the rubble. He calmly hummed a love song, while gently wiping away the pilgrim’s tears. His strong and rugged hand cautiously, lifted the transgressed pilgrim’s face. When his red tear-filled eyes and shamed countenance met the piercing eyes of the Warrior, he immediately forgot what had caused him to sit down in the rubble. The Mighty Warrior continued to pour a fragrant, healing balm on the lesions, completing his assigned task. As the pilgrim looked around at the devastation, he knew he must CHOOSE to get up! Already standing, by this time, the Strong Warrior reached His hand down toward the weary pilgrim still lying in the ashes. He hoped the pilgrim would let Him help. As the pilgrim’s hand touched the Mighty Warrior’s hand it was like lightening bolts passed between them. Lifting him from the depths of darkness, a strong anointing flowed from the Mighty Warrior to the pilgrim and immediately he was strengthened. The pilgrim’s weak legs wobbled momentarily as the Warrior helped him regain his footing. Standing beside him until he gained enough strength to walk, the Mighty Warrior vigilantly shared is heart. He began with exhortations of faith that enabled the pilgrim to gather a small measure of hope. Then Mighty Warrior gingerly pointed the pilgrim, in the right direction and reminded him of the promises he had been given. He reminded him that His Father, the KING, is not a man that would lie and pointed out how close he actually was to the finish line.

As they began to walk, side by side, the weary pilgrim’s body seemed to be strengthened. The Mighty Warrior gave him precise instructions, He also persuaded the pilgrim to watch for others along his journey, who may need help just as he had. Suddenly, like a blind man receiving sight, he too, could see the other weary traveler’s beside him. Their deep, dark, forlorn eyes reflected great personal devastation. It pierced his heart when he saw a brief reflection of what he had been before the Warrior came. Looking down a moment hoping to refocus and break the melancholy feeling of hopelessness, he unexpectedly realized his entire countenance had been transformed from that of a weary pilgrim to one of a young warrior. When he turned to thank the MIGHTY WARRIOR, he discovered He was already helping another pilgrim.

Immediately the newly transformed warrior began strengthening those nearest to him. He now had an unforgettable impression of the Mighty Warrior’s Love forever branded in his heart. With the same patience and loving hands of the Mighty Warrior, he nurtured others to once again look toward their destiny and the mark of their high calling. Slowly the weary pilgrims began to rise up, one by one. As these transformed pilgrims continued their individual journey, they began to strengthen others along the way, and soon a great army arose from the ashes of despair.

The Father is turning His heart back toward His children; He wants to restore EVERYTHING the canker worm, palmer worm, and locust have eaten. He wants to give you beauty for ashes, and joy instead of years of mourning. Let the Father declare His plan for your life. Then, you will truly know…

“Out of the embers, out of the ashes, and out of leftovers,
HE IS STILL ABLE TO RAISE YOU UP!

Father, we know that more than anything; we want your best. We know that we will NEVER find authentic life in ANYTHING apart from you. We know that we have obeyed You, and been faithful to the best of our ability… but we also know that some of us are still shattered beyond anything any man can repair. Without You, we will NOT recover fully, nor will we function as You intended us to.

Though we are always aware of this deep, dark cavern, almost a black hole that longs for wholeness, we need You to fill in the gap.

“I will give you the treasures of darkness and hidden riches of secret places, that you may know that I, the Lord, Who call you by your name, Am the God of Israel” (Isaiah 45:3, NKJV).

Father; set us free from EVERYTHING that hinders us from rising up to our high calling, our destiny. Remove the splinters that penetrate our souls, and have brought poison to our lives. We know that we cannot fix these things, believe me, we have tried. Help each of us individually through this painful journey from shattered dreams to destiny. Teach us to dream again, show us a clear path, and when we again begin to see our goal and the high calling before us, enable us to strengthen others along the way.

“Father take me to a place where my dreams come true, heal my broken wings so I can fly again…” -Patti Wasmuth

In the second vision: I saw a stunning Ming Vase. It was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen. I knew it was priceless, but unfortunately, after careful examination, I noticed some small chips on the lip of the vase. As I explored the intricate designs and then I noticed one whole side was shattered. The broken places were so severe it was as if someone had intentionally purposed to destroy its value and beauty. Though the damage was quite noticeable; I guarded it carefully because it was all I had. Then suddenly a huge sledgehammer appeared and shattered my vase. There were millions of pieces everywhere. I wept profusely, as I carefully gathered the broken pieces with special care not to lose any of the fragile slivers. I cautiously swept them in a pile near an altar. Warm tears streamed down my cheeks and dripped onto the carpet like a gentle rain. A warm-hearted voice startled me, for a moment I was frozen in time; everything seemed to be moving in slow motion. I watched as the silent film unfolded, the voice behind me firmly said, “You can not fix it!” I recognized that gentle loving voice. It was the voice of my King, the Lord. I turned to see how long He had been observing my unexpected crisis.

Though I knew He loved me more than any other person ever had, I still bowed my head in shame. I continued to quickly gather the broken pieces… I was embarrassed that He had discovered me trying to privately remedy this painful situation. He gently spoke again, “You can not fix it”.

I looked up, my bright red, tear filled eyes, and blotchy complexion clearly indicated I had been crying for sometime. “But Lord,” I stuttered between my deep gasps. I had only looked up momentarily to explain, “all I wanted to do was bring you something that was valuable” quickly bowing my head remorsefully. The tapes in my mind began playing the same old song. Through the years I had learned to take responsibility for whatever, went wrong, and somehow this too, must be my fault. I could no longer look my dearest friend in the eyes. Gazing at the ground and the disastrous irretrievably broken vase, I quietly stated, “I know it wasn’t much, but it was all I had”. I quietly waited yearning for just a small morsel of hope.
I had been searching diligently for a significant solution, but in my finite mind, there were none to be found. The King, my Lord, gently exhorted, “Man has marred your vessel, and you can not fix it”

I sat quietly weeping at the altar, feeling despondent.
I looked down at all the millions of broken pieces, immediately realized His words were true,
THERE WAS NO WAY I COULD FIX IT THIS TIME!

My body began to shake as I sobbed in grief. The dam holding back years of repressed memories and emotions finally could not contain the pain. The floodgates burst and tears filled the room. I desperately tried to regain a measure of composure. In the next scene, I saw a Ziplock bag filled with the pieces I had gathered only moments before. Filled with uncertainty, I could only focus on the immediate dilemma. Suddenly a chilling presence entered the room my old friends; hopelessness and desperation came to console me. The King immediately came and sat beside me. His deep love penetrated the darkness and the light of His love displaced the mysterious phantom “friends”. The King gently lifted my head, and with the utmost care. He brushed my wet hair from my face and softly wiped away my warm tears.

Again He gently reminded me, “you cannot fix this, but I can! I will be the one to restore the broken vessel, and it will be all that I intended it to be. Now give me the broken pieces…” He said firmly.

“But Lord,” I argued. His gentle, nail- scarred hand discreetly reached toward me and He said,

“Give me the broken pieces, I WILL RESTORE the vessel.”

“This is the word of the Lord that came to Jeremiah from the Lord;

Go down to the potter’s house and there I will give you a message. So I went down to the potter’s house, and I saw him working at the wheel. But the pot he was shaping from the clay was marred in his hands; so the potter formed it into another pot, shaping it as seemed best to him. Then the word of the Lord came to me: O house of Israel, can I not do with you as this potter does? Declares the Lord.

“Like clay in the hand of the potter, so you are in My hand.” – Jeremiah 18: 1-5

So I came with a bag full of shattered dreams, I humbled myself and I cry out to a merciful God “Heal me Oh, Lord, that I may fulfill the purposes you have for me. Though man has marred my vessel, reshape this clay and restore this broken vessel to your original plan and bring forth the destiny you purposed from the foundations of time.

“Lord do not rebuke me in your anger,
do not confirm my poor experience.
Have mercy on me, for I am weak.
Please heal me, for my life is shattered beyond repair.
How long Lord, must I wait for your answers?
Return soon, don’t ignore my cries…
please speed-up the process and deliver me.
Save me from the pain and destruction
that pursues me night and day.
Show me Your great mercy!
Give me a morsel, a small crumb of hope.
Help me choose life.
For if I die without deliverance,
who will remember Your great power?
If I am in my grave, who will give you thanks?
But Father, I am so weary with my groaning;
on my bed, I cry, night and day.
Why are the heavens are silent?
My eyes are red and swollen because of my grief.
I am bowed low in shame, all day long I mourn.
I am feeble and utterly crushed, my heart pounds,
And my strength fails me.
My friends and family avoid me because of my wounds,
Psalm 6:1-7; 38:10,11 (Paraphrased Patti Wasmuth)

And the King said, “COME UNTO ME, all who are weary and burdened, I WILL GIVE YOU REST. Take my yoke upon you and LEARN FROM ME, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you WILL find rest for your weary souls. Matthew 11:28-29