I took a pottery class in college. I thought I was pretty good at it. Even had dreams of becoming a potter. Of throwing and creating pots all winter and then come spring, summer and fall, touring the country and county fairs, selling my wares. The real Potter had other plans.
At the miraculous moment of conception, the Master Potter begins to form us into a work of art. He is the Potter. We are the clay. When we place our lives in the Potters hands and allow Him to do His good work in us, things turn out wonderful. We become strong, useful and a pleasure to look at. We no longer melt under the hot sun.
But as we travel this road from earth to Heaven we can allow ourselves to be re-molded by worldly things. When that happens, we lose our strength. We don’t shine in the sun. Our hearts become brittle. And we are easily broken.
Whose hands are molding you today? Is it the hands of the Potter. Or are we in the grasp of the destroyer of life?
As much as I try to be the clay in God’s hands I sometimes think I am the potter. I think I know what’s best for me. What usually happens then is, I get all twisted up and ultimately fall over or spin off the Potter’s wheel, fly across the room and hit the floor in a big splat.
Today, I choose to place my will and my life in God’s hands. Want to join me? Be the clay.