YOU ARE THE CLAY
You are the clay, laying motionless until grasped by the hand of the potter. The clay with such potential to be a great work of art, something to be desired and cherished as a gift or acquired possession...a practical fixture, a functional addition to any life, something so simple and mundane yet transformed by the skilled and loving touch of the potter's hand.
What then can be said of something so common, so ordinary as a lump of clay? In the eye's of your heavenly Father, it becomes priceless. As spoken in His recounting of creation (Genesis 1)...on the sixth day God, our Holy Trinity, said... "Let us make man in our image" so, God made man in His image... "Male and female created He them" and gave them dominion over all the works of His hands. This heavenly word inspired the following "little" story...
Lying very still within a hill close by the banks of the great river Euphrates was a lump of clay. This clay was packed down and pushed deep into earthy soil and sand, yet remained together and intact, hoping for escape, hoping to one day reach it's final destination, a vessel of great honor, shown proudly within a great home of the land. This little lump of clay had such aspirations and dreams, such wonderful thoughts of things that could be. Time and time again she found herself, crushed, bruised and packed into desolation among soil that could not recognize her value. Year after year she could be heard by other clumps of earth cry to be free, to be established and brought forth by the hand of the potter, yet there she lay.
Oh, there were days she remembered so well when she thought her time had come. She would find herself heaved into a cart along with other lumps of clay being taken miles away... to a land she longed to learn of.... to a land that would bring her face to face with her destiny.
Time and again as she rode her life out in the cart, the road would be rugged and quite rough. She would be tossed free of the cart, landing among weeds and thistles, briar's and branches, where she clung to her very existence. Soon the rains would come however and amazingly wash her back into the soils along the banks of that great river.
Her heart would almost break to see the waters rushing by so freely, seeming to know their destiny, yet there she lay, lifeless, unformed and unrecognized for the beauty and purpose she felt so deep within her.
Again she would be lifted and heaved into a cart to travel another rugged and weary road only to fall short and land among the dead and dreary places. On one such occasion she cried out loudly to the maker, to the potter with her whole heart...but after a time she thought "Oh, this is so useless, the cart is well past and to hope of another day, I must do at last"... when suddenly she felt lifted and light as loving hands gathered her and placed her on top of many lumps of her own kind. She remembered her delight and joy as her heart raced thinking of all that lay ahead of her. She joyed in the thoughts of what his design would be for her life and found solace in knowing when she was removed and placed in that shed she had reached a place of being led.
She knew and sought to stay within sight, to be the first grasped, to be in the potter's delight. Struggle as she may she found so much pressure and weight upon her that she lay still and motionless, dismayed. Her thoughts were now troubled as she looked back to times past, "At least where I had been, I had sight, I could see the winds blow upon the waters or watch them rushing past. I could watch the sun come up announcing the day and the moon rise high as her thoughts ebbed away. "Oh give me my life back, show me my way, for I am but helpless, this lump of clay..."
As day shown bright and the sun was peeking down, she awakened to feel the rumbling of ground. The potter approached, she knew it was he, as she had grown accustomed to his sure step and gentle voice. She felt herself lifted as she looked all around and carried so gently above the ground. He was taking her inside where he placed her on a wheel. She felt herself begin to whirl about as she sensed her form coming to her at last. As pressure was applied while slowly spun round, she felt her will yielding to the skillful touch of the potter's hand. At times she felt waves of cool water splashing about her form, she came to know this as His living waters which brought change without harm. Where her life had left her dry and hardened, His waters brought great relief, His skillful touch could be seen in the molding of this piece. She knew his touch as gentle yet determined to see her complete and resolved to work and work until at last he was pleased.
Soon she felt the slowing of the wheel as she was lifted and placed upon a shelf. She glanced round about beholding the great beauty of all she did see. There were vases and bowls, cups and goblets, plates and platters and forms untold. She beheld as one by one they were removed, packaged and sent to mighty homes in the land. Looking about she realized now only she remained upon that shelf. Her heart sank as she thought deep within she had been beautiful, she thought she were a great work of art, then why dear master have I remained?
As she sat looking about feeling lost and alone, the potter walked in and took her from the shelf in his mighty hands. She was placed on a table as tools were lain about, as paints were withdrawn and brushes laid out. She endured moments of scraping and chiseling as if being refined. Then with great surprise she felt cool dampness begin to enclose her as the stains of life were applied. After some hours the potter placed her back again upon that shelf where she sat to mature and dry.
The days that ensued brought times of fiery furnaces and coolings, she thought she would surely parish and longed for the banks of the river where her life had been so simple.
At last her time was finished and she was brought unto the master potter whose face she saw light up as he beheld her. She was turned and turned round about as he looked upon the great beauty he had made. She wondered,... where would she finish her days?... would she garnish a great room in a palace far away or simply belong to one of the great families of that day? With excitement she waited each day to find her way.
With the rising of the sun, she awoke to hear the master's voice as he drew near to where she gracefully sat upon the shelf now finished and beautiful. "Oh my priceless beauty, my greatest work of art... today you shall know your home, your home my beauty, you were created from my own heart" he seemed to say to no one in particular as he prepared a basket filled with soft linen to wrap her in. Securely she was packaged and placed by the door. Oh the joy she felt knowing the price he placed on her, the wonders that raced through her mind of her destination.
Soon the time came and she felt her travels begin as the master potter lifted her basket securely holding it close.
There were hills and valleys traveled, days and nights ensued, she could sense his skillful maneuvering through lands of danger and trial, yet all the while safely, in the potters care.
Upon arrival to her destination, she breathed a breath of sheer relief as gently she was coaxed from all her wrappings and safety. She felt the softness of a gentle cloth as she was buffed and shined to a gleaming gloss. As she was placed high upon a mantle she now opened her eyes to behold the great home that had been her destination. She looked about thinking "something is amiss" for the room was empty, just she and the potter as he sat in his rocker beholding her. He seemed to sense her dismay, her shock and wonderment as he rose and came to her she could hear him say... "My beautiful prize, my possession, my own.. I crafted you with my own hands, I toiled and worked, I spent countless hours and now behold, you are a vessel of great honor, a vessel of magnificent beauty. I gave all that I had to have you for my own.. to grace my very dwelling, my home... you bring beauty to my palace and brightness to my day, never doubt your worth, never doubt your way.... I am here for you always, to keep you safe from all harm, to show you to a few that I deem worthy of your song"...
God is our sculptor, the Master Potter of all clay. As we yield every area of our lives He applies the water and pressure of the day to spin us round and round as He causes the desired shape to display. Friends, if you will hear His voice today... harden not your hearts... Allow the potter to have His way for great beauty of value are brought forth in vessels he keeps for His own, to garnish His surroundings, His heart, His home...
God Bless....
© Copyright 2008 LynnPenCakes (UN: lynntarzan at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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