LESSONS ON THE POTTER’S WHEEL

The clay is a shapeless, squishy, lumpy lump.

The potter is an artist, creator, planner, master designer.

The clay hardens quickly and when that happens, nothing could happen.

The potter labors speedily - keeping the clay moist tirelessly, making everything happen.

The clay does nothing on the wheel.

It says nothing and does nothing except to shut up and stay still.

The potter does everything on the wheel.

He designs, he drives, he directs – according to his perfect plan and will.

The clay is soft and gentle; it takes whatever form the potter chooses.

The potter is meek and tender; he exerts only enough pressure on the clay to mold, not to mar, to bend, not to break.

Lord, help me to remember that I am just the clay.

I don’t drive the wheel. I don’t decide my shape. I don’t determine my ways.

I don't say, "I only want to be this" or "I only want to do that."

Help me to remember, Lord, that you – and you alone – are the potter.

You step on the pedal. You press, you pull. You twist, you turn.

You say, "I only want the best for you" and "I love you."

So whenever I feel bored – “Why so long?”

Uncomfortable – “What? Another squeeze?”

Fearful – “More water on me? Will I drown?”

Lost – “I can’t see where you’re going!”

Help me to never forget:

"Be still, and know that I am God” (Ps 46:10).

“You have enclosed me behind and before,

And laid Your hand upon me” (Ps 139:5).

You are the Potter - the artist, creator, planner, master designer.

And I - shapeless, squishy, lumpy - I am just the clay.