~by Brenda Weaver
“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.” Jeremiah 18:3, 4
Few people understand my creative bent like my sister does, so I wasn’t too surprised when she arranged for us to attend three pottery classes together at the studio of a local potter. I was pleased and eagerly anticipated this creative adventure. It was one of the nicest birthday presents I’ve ever received.
I’d spun a vessel or two on the potter’s wheel in high school, but I was eager to try it again. When we arrived at the house of the potter I discovered he was a former art teacher of mine from school days. As he explained what we could do with clay in his shop I kept thinking about the scripture from Jeremiah: “So I went down to the potter’s house…” I wondered what lessons awaited me at this potter’s house.
Guided by the instructions and hands of the potter, I soon sat at the wheel, wet clay oozing between my fingers as a small bowl took shape on the spinning potter’s wheel. The second bowl turned out even nicer than the first. I was growing confident. Thinking a set of three bowls for popcorn would be nice, I started to form a third. Again I thought of Jeremiah, because one slip of my hand and the carefully formed bowl flopped lop-sided and deformed on the wheel. “But the pot he was shaping…was marred in his hands…”
The potter’s hands remade a lump of clay from my mistake, and he centered it on the wheel for me to try again, after he cut away the misshapen clay. Carefully, very carefully, I formed a smaller bowl.
“Can I not do with you as this potter does?” declares the Lord. “Like clay in the hand of the potter, so are you in my hand….”
My sister and I left our clay vessels on the potter’s shelf to dry before they were fired. We would return to enjoy our next classes. But the lesson oozed into my heart again. God is the potter; I am the clay. There are times when he has to cut away misshapen attitudes in me. Times when he needs to take me in His strong hands and press me into a lump so I can made be made into the vessel He would have me to be.
“Can I not do with you as this potter does?” I hear God asking the question of me. I am spinning dizzily on the wheel. I am trying to be what I want to be. But my Potter, in love, encircles me with strong hands, and remakes me into the vessel He wants me to be.
My Potter has a plan; I can rest in His hand.
Thank You, Dear Father, that You are the Potter and I am the clay. Let me not resist Your will for me. Amen.