I wish I could be brave enough to put my feeling and fears and tears on paper as much as this one that inspires me does. Every week, several times a week she sits at the screen and mashes out a few paragraphs to let us know we are not alone in our grief. Some of us can’t help but grieve. The creator saw fit to fashion this fragile vessel in such a way that the slightest upset makes me crack. No matter how much I don’t want fractures to appear in my soul… they do.
This is why I disagree with the “happiness is a choice” saying. I think there are choices in what we choose to do with our sorrow, but feeling sad is not something that people choose. I think we can choose to wallow in it and we can choose to place it in the nail scarred hands. That choice is a daily, even hourly decision at times.
Over the last few weeks I have been taking a pottery class. Those of you who consider me a skilled sculptor might be surprised at how difficult it was for me to learn wheel throwing.
I couldn’t help but be reminded of the Maker whilst watching the skilled potter at work. What she did seemed so easy and yet when I copied her motions my pot did not respond to my touch they way hers did. What a glorious and mysterious task our Creator has! He takes this shapeless lump of clay and works it into a masterpiece.
Do you think of yourself as a masterpiece? Even though I know the truth, the word kind of grates at me… “I’m nothing special… definitely not a masterpiece…” I think.
Isaiah 45:9 says "Woe to him who quarrels with his Maker, to him who is but a potsherd among the potsherds on the ground. Does the clay say to the potter, "What are you making?' Does your work say, "He has no hands'?
What will result if I continue to quarrel with my maker?
We spent the first three lessons simply learning how to get our clay centered on the wheel. If it is not perfectly center. Centrifugal force will pull on one side more and the piece will “flop.” I have seen it fly off the wheel. I’ve seen the piece collapse.
Centrifugal force is from Latin centrum, meaning "center", and fugere, meaning "to flee." Is the apparent outward force that draws a rotating body away from the center of rotation.
It is a delicate balance to try and form the pot into what you want, while all the time keeping it centered on the wheel. The teachers kept saying, “Slow down… slow down… This takes time.”
I want my Maker to hurry up or at least tell me what he is making. “A masterpiece,” he whispers in his Word.
“No, Lord, tell me WHAT I will be…”
“Something amazing and perfectly skilled in what I have created you to do…”
“I don’t believe you… show me proof,” I quarrel.
“You just have to wait and see…” comes the gentle reply.
“But this is painful.” Centrifugal force threatens to pull me to pieces or at least make me permanently lopsided. I want to flee the center… my Lord.
So my task is to lean into the potter’s hand and let him center me. I cannot center myself… I cannot succumb to the forces that pull on me.
Lord, forgive me for my quarrel. Mold me… shape me… make me yours…