Evolving Clay

Been thinking about clay. My neighbor Anita loves the stuff. She can't seem to get enough of mushing her hands around in the sticky goop that miraculously ends up as colorful works of art. She scoops and kneads and molds and even recycles big, muddy blobs into rich pottery. I can never believe my eyes when I watch her fashion those gummy hunks into beautiful tableware that add grace and elegance to any home.

Then I look at myself and the people I love, and I notice something remarkable. We're all clumps of clay at some point along the Potter's continuum. Some of us appear mighty unfinished, but we're coming right along. We may not be ready to be served up at a state dinner, but we're pretty functional in our own right. Others among us look the part, but upon closer inspection, are found to have flaws and weaknesses that limit our usefulness as serving vessels. Despite our varied appearances, we all have one thing in common: we're fragile. In fact, when you get right down to it, we're nothing but dust that's been shored up by a strong hand  and steady fingers. As long as we keep our connection to that able Potter, He can and will mend any cracks that come along.

Hadn't we best be patient with our fellow vessels - and ourselves - as we limp along the journey toward wholeness?


Check out Fingerprints of God by Steven Curtis Chapman