Sometimes the potter’s work is very messy. Pounding. Probing. Dizzying. Painfully slow. Hot. But his work is also sure as he moves with every turn on the wheel to create a vessel he’s envisioned—a vessel that’s useful and beautiful in his eyes and one that resembles Jesus, and therefore himself.
If I am his, then I am “also predestined to become conformed to the image of His Son, so that He would be the firstborn among many brethren.”
Perhaps, if I could see through the potter’s eyes, I’d appreciate where I’m headed and the work of love, kindness and gentleness that he is doing within me. Perhaps if I could hear him speaking over me as he works, I’d hear a few things.
“Ah yes, that’s looking more like my Son.”
“Oooh, that won’t do, let’s remove that bit of debris.”
“I like the way that’s coming.”
“I think it’s going to need a little more depth,” he’d say as he sticks his fingers, then his hand into my life to create a wider and deeper container. “I want this vessel to hold more, so it can give water others.”
An on and on it’d go. Beautifully. Faithfully. Tenderly. Speaking over me and handling me with the force and tenderness I need.
It’s good to remember that I’m being held while in the middle of my trials and conflicts, and that God has a good purpose for them. His hand remains on me. In fact Scripture also says, that I’m to count it all joy when I encounter trials, knowing that the testing of faith produces endurance. I should allow endurance to have its perfect result, so that I can be perfect and complete, lacking in nothing.
“Becoming” is a slow and often painful process, and it’s one that won’t be completed until I see Jesus face to face. Until then, I’ll work on trusting in the potter’s faithful hand. And as much as I’d sometimes like to, I won’t jump off the wheel. After all, a lump of clay has no legs, and he has me in his loving grip and he won’t let me jump.