The Potter and His Clay

My neighbor and I went on a walk about a month ago and I have been thinking about something she said ever since. We were talking about the healing and redeeming God does in our lives. Sometimes “rebuilding” seems to be a better word for it. She said something along the lines of, “God’s redemption of our lives takes the whole lifetime.” He’s constantly in the business of rebuilding, renovation, and recreating.

I have been spending a lot of time holding my newborn niece these days. She is fragile, tiny, with miniature fingers and toes, making sweet sounds, and is vulnerable in this life stage. It reminds me of my own soul’s fragile and vulnerable nature, and the ease with which it is broken or shattered. I’ve prayed that God would break my heart for what breaks His. I just didn’t realize it was my broken heart that needed tending to.

Sometimes when I am in a broken place, I see the Lord at His potter’s wheel. He has picked up the pieces of my soul named anger and pride, the ones with sharp edges and jagged sides. He lingers over the pieces with gutted insides, named insecurity and rejection. He picked up those pieces scattered about that I thought He had long since forgotten, hurtful words and lies I have believed. He gathered those dried out and sharp shards, and begins to see something new. Collecting much needed moisture from my tears of sadness and grief, He begins to turn the mixture into malleable clay.

Sitting before that potter’s wheel, the One who sees acknowledges each detail and knows the perfect place for each piece as He begins to rebuild. With gentleness and grace He leans His hands into my clay soul’s sides, with perfect pressure at each point. He spends hours shaping, more so, perfecting.

With indignation I ask Him why He made my clay soul so fragile, so easily breakable. Why not make a concrete disposition or one not so quick to fret with life’s shifting sands. He coolly speaks the truth that if He did, I would have no need for Him altogether. It’s that moment of the conversation I’m having with the great potter that He tells me He’s a good and trustworthy artist. Duly humbled, I acknowledge that this potter works with care, purpose, and trustworthy goodness. This potter, after all, is the great comforter, wonderful counselor, almighty God, everlasting Father, the prince of peace.

So then, in this lifetime of being rebuilt, re-crafted, newly shaped, my prayer becomes:

Lord, let my soul be breakable enough in the places it needs, but not so fragile that the shattered pieces cannot be picked back up once more.

2 Cor. 4:7-10; 16-18

We now have this light shining in our hearts, but we ourselves are like fragile clay jars containing this great treasure. This makes it clear that our great power is from God, not from ourselves.

We are pressed on every side by troubles, but we are not crushed. We are perplexed, but not driven to despair. We are hunted down, but never abandoned by God. We get knocked down, but we are not destroyed. Through suffering, our bodies continue to share in the death of Jesus so that the life of Jesus may also be seen in our bodies.

That is why we never give up. Though our bodies are dying, our spirits are being renewed every day. For our present troubles are small and won’t last very long. Yet they produce for us a glory that vastly outweighs them and will last forever! So we don’t look at the troubles we can see now; rather, we fix our gaze on things that cannot be seen. For the things we see now will soon be gone, but the things we cannot see will last forever.