The Teacup Sermon
A Whimsical Reflection on Grace
I sat down this morning with a well-worn mug—one of those that doesn’t quite match anything else in the cupboard. The handle is chipped. The glaze is crackled. It whistles slightly when you pour something hot inside, as though it’s whispering a secret.
And as the steam curled up from my tea like incense, I had the oddest feeling that the teacup was about to speak.
If it had, I think it might have said something like:
“Don’t you see? I am loved not despite my imperfections—but because of them. I’ve been held through countless mornings, filled and refilled, cracked and glued, and I’ve never once stopped being useful. In fact, I think the tea tastes better now—seasoned by the stories I’ve heard.”
I sipped, chuckled, and nodded.
Maybe that’s what grace is like: Not the perfection of a porcelain set behind glass, but the warmth of something real and worn, passed from hand to hand, never discarded, always invited to the table.
Scripture
“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
Prayer
Lord, thank You for the quiet, whimsical ways You speak to me. Through chipped cups, morning steam, and the faithful rhythms of ordinary things, remind me that I am held, filled, and made useful by Your grace. Amen.
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