Clay on the Move
This week I came across a video that sparked both intrigue and awe. Molded For A Purpose, a video produced by Our Daily Bread is based on Isaiah 64:8, "But now, O LORD, you are our Father; we are the clay, and you are our potter; we are all the work of your hand." The narrator (think "action-movie-trailer-voiceover meets inspirational production house) speaks to how we are like dirt and clay being molded by the Potter. He takes our flaws, our mess, our "blech" and molds it into a beautiful masterpiece that reflects His hand, His purposes, and His love in us.
The process is both visually and philosophically mesmerizing.
As a friend pointed out, the potter only needs to press ever so slightly, yet steadfastly in order to turn the clay into a work of art. In my own life, I have found that as my Potter transforms this lump of clay, His gentle nudges and scrapings slowly shape my heart. Indeed, there have been a few times in my walk when He has just lobbed off a handle. But more times than not, His molding and shaping takes place with a slow, gentle hand of a Potter molding His masterpiece.
Slow. Hmm. That's not a pace I tend to enjoy. I want results. I want answers. I want solutions. What I really want is peace. As I thought more about the imagery of the potter and clay, Exodus 14:14 came to mind: "The LORD will fight for you; you need only to be still."
Stillness.
The clay on the potter's wheel is still. What if the clay were on the move, trying to figure out this way and that way of beautifying its own flaws? What if it were hopping around, frantically trying to find a way to become a vessel of worth? What if it insisted on making itself into a masterpiece?
I'll admit, I can tend to be clay on the move; when faced with life's curveballs, I sometimes (ok, many times) frantically hop around in attempts to fix or mold that which I think is marring my masterpiece. I Google. I read. I ponder endlessly. I clamor to anyone I think has wisdom for me.
When in reality, the peace I am desperately skittering around to find will only be found in the stillness of one surrendered to the Potter. It is then that He is able to mold and shape me, flaws and all, into His vision and plan for my life. When I am still, He can do His most detailed, beautifying work. He can guide me gently onto His path.
How about you? What things do you tend to do that leave you bouncing around on the Potter's wheel? What other conclusions or insight can we draw in the metaphor of the Potter and the clay?