clay moments

I went to the pottery studio yesterday to bury my hands in clay.

I centered a gray, shapeless lump on the wheel and as my hands started to go into the foundations of the clay I heard the Word of God.

When you were in your mother's womb, I knew you and loved you.
You are beautifully and fearfully made.
I know your destiny, and I know your birthright. Your form was not hidden from Me. Your name is written on the palm of My hand.

As I pulled up the walls on the pot, I heard Him saying
I will shape you and pull up your walls, almost to the breaking point, but I know who you are. I know your shape; I know your form. I know your function. My fingerprints will be seen on you. I will never leave you or forsake you

To keep the clay soft and malleable, it became necessary to add some drops of water and I began to see that during the times when the clay of me feels very dry and is about to crack, the Master Potter Himself bends near and softens me with His tears.

It is His foot that governs the speed of the wheel. It is His Hands that keep me centered. It is His fingers that dig deep pushing and prodding until He is satisfied.

I finished and carried the pot to the burning, blazing ovens. I have always been fascinated with the processes that fire has on the pots and the colors of the glazes and now began to wonder how it will look when the fire of God is released on the clay vessels in churches, when the blazing fire of God ignites hearts, when the refiner’s fire comes and burns out our faults and imperfections, when the fire of holiness and refreshing comes.

And would we welcome that fire or flee from it …………
Will we allow ourselves to be gently, carefully and lovingly placed in the fiery oven of His Presence.