Light streams through the open window. Colors bloom through the room. I breath in the smell of earth and smile. I run my fingers along the shelf, eyes gazing at the pottery that line the walls.
Each has a story.
Each is unique.
Each has been fashioned by hand.
By His hands.
I hear footsteps down the hall and He steps into the room His eyes dance as He too gazes around.
I notice in His hand a clump of earth. Excitment bubbles up as I anticipate watching Him create. I never know what He is going to make, but He does. He has told me that every time He sits at the wheel, He has a picture in His mind of what He is making. I see a clump of earth. He sees the beauty of what He is making.
He moves to the wheel and I watch. The beginning is always hard. The dirt is tough.
His foot pumps the pedal, and the top of the table starts spinning slowly. The top of the table is centered in a bowl filled with water. He scoops water and presses hard on the stone like earth. It moves, but barely. He applys more and more pressure, until the earth starts to move easily in His hands. My eyes dart up to watch His face. As always, tears stream down His face as His hands squeeze and press. I gaze steadily, waiting for the change I know is coming. The smile jumps back into His eyes and His tears dry. The earth is soft now, dancing to the rythm of His hands.
His eyes stay focused, never leaving His task. His fingers stay firm yet gentle.
The shape of the earth is now complete and He takes out a stick. I remember the confusion I first felt when I watched Him.
Why would He need that?
I smile as I now watch Him carve out designes. I sometimes forget what beautiful piece looked like at the beginning, but now, as I look at the finished piece, I smile as i remember the clump of earth.
I am always amazed at what the Potter has created.
He finishes the final details and looks at me. We smile at each other and I know what He will say. This piece has purpose.
"But now, O Lord, You are our Father, We are the clay, and You our potter; And all of us are the work of Your hand."
Isaiah 64:8
Jesus taught with stories and pictures. They breathed life into the lessons He taught. Today, I met a man who does pottery and he showed me these pieces he made. As I admired his work Isaiah 64:8 came to mind and images if this story flashed through my mind.
I hope that in sharing it breathes life into these verses for you. That you can take this story and see your own in it.
Wherever you are on your journey, whatever you're going through, He is working. He isnt a far off god who is unconcerned with our lives. He is our God who is intimately acquainted with all our ways.
He formed us in our mother's womb.
He knows our thoughts and our hearts.
His hand is upon us, and there is nowhere we can flee from His presence.
We can rest and be present in where we are at because He goes before and behind us.
(Psalm 139)
We see just a moment in time, He sees the beauty He is making. May we trust the Potter, whether we are experiencing the things that are softening our hearts towards Him, or seeing the beauty of what He is doing.
He is the Potter, we are the clay.
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