The Potter

I stepped into a pottery gallery two weeks ago and my view of Jesus was completely changed within a 15-minute conversation and a demonstration on how to throw a salad bowl. 

My friend Danielle and I sped to the gallery with only 4 minutes to spare until closing time. We stepped in and the owner was nowhere to be seen. We were surrounded by earth toned mugs kissed by the touch of a gentle hand. The potter emerged from the back with absolute undeniable delight on his face.  

“I just knew you guys were going to come. I can’t describe the feeling but I knew that I shouldn’t close up quite yet.” 

Danielle and I looked at each other with absolute unbelief. 

He followed us around the gallery as we looked around. Danielle picked up a mug and he said “I love that one. It’s so weird that you like that one and picked it up because I held it today and just looked at it for a while. It is unlike any of the others.” 

Time went on as we looked around. We asked him a few questions about his gallery and the topic of actually watching him throw (craft) pottery came up. We said that we had never seen it done in real life before. 

He immediately jumped up and said “You’ve never seen it before? Come on!” and waved us into where he crafted all of his pottery. 

As he began to tickle the edges of his clay, he told us that he was absolutely obsessed with making pottery. He wakes up at 5:30 to run every morning and then comes straight to the gallery to throw some pots. He remembers each one, puts a special glaze on each one, spends time with each pot and mug and bowl and every creation he had ever made. The mug I bought, he had hit with a stick just because it made it unique. And it was beautiful. 

AND now! Everything mentioned in the bible about the potter and the clay suddenly becomes more than just a visual in my head. I feel complete loss of control over by body and my being and my life because in that moment I realized that none of this is mine. My body isn’t mine. My life isn’t mine. My words are not mine. They are the Lord’s, and He made them to be beautiful. All of it, even if it is hit with a stick. 

It says: “But now, O Lord, you are our Father; we are the clay, you are our potter, we are all the work of your hand” Isaiah 64:8

I absolutely believe that, even in the middle of the night when we are unaware, Jesus admires us. Treasures us. Picks us up and says “I love that one. I held her today and just looked at her for a while. She is unlike any of the others.” 

I absolutely believe that our father took clay and breathed us into life, becoming living for Him. We are His. Nothing on this earth is ours, but is our Father’s. 

I like to think that Jesus is a lot like the potter. I believe that Jesus hits us with a stick, hits us with struggles and hardships and beautiful tears and desperation to make this life His. So that He can use us. And I realize that that’s hard to understand and may make some people angry.

But I would much rather put my clay into the Potter’s hand than into my own. 

He sees the outcome.  He has the plan in mind. He treasures us. He will not destroy us. 

The Potter waits for us, embraces us, loves us. 

He handcrafted us from clay and still throws us. With loving beautiful hands and sometimes with a hit of stick. 

I may not be as strong as I want to be right now, but I have absolute faith that in the Potter’s hands alone, my life is no longer mine but His. 

His hands are stronger. They embrace me. 

Father, we are the clay, you are the potter. Make this life not ours, but yours. Use us, craft us, teach us. May we never lose our wonder of your creation and the work of your hands, Father. How beautiful is the work of your earthly creation, but how massively more beautiful is the work that you craft in us. We love you. Amen. 

- Kellie // @kellie_baxter

 

MacKenzie WilsonComment