clay

i've been thinking about clay lately.  one of my friends was mentioning that since she's been able to wrap her head around the idea that she is merely clay in the hands of God she's been able to be much more easy on herself.  she hasn't been so devastated when she encounters a situation in which she wishes she would have handled herself differently.  she's not talking about allowing herself to blatantly sin; she's talking about when she sins or just handles herself in a way she which she hadn't.  we've all been there, no?

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what is clay, really?  it is just the product of chemically weathered and broken down rock.  it is nothing showy, y'all.  it is the leftovers of rock after that rock has been chemically beaten apart over a period of time.  just like we are dust.  dust.  the same thing that is conglomerating under my bed and threatening to overtake my bedroom.

one day I was listening to someone talk about someone they knew who was a potter.  nowadays you can basically buy your clay.  click and order.  it arrives ready to be molded.  you don't have to decipher which are the best parts, you get to use it all.

Source: google.com via Virginia on Pinterest

in the past it wasn't so.  the potter would go to the riverbed.  bending low into the muck and water, clothing soiled by the moisture and arms dirty he would scoop up piles of clay.  there was no judgement at the waters' edge.  just reach in and pull out whatever you came out with--muck, mire, clay, and a few critters as well, I'm sure.  over and over until the tarp is heavy with the raw material slick and tough, marbled with the unnecessary...back at whatever the fancy schmancy word is for where you make pottery that I couldn't find on google...back at the studio the potter begins the painstaking process of weeding through his finds.  good, bad, useful, full of potential, the potter separates the clay.  finally, it's sorted and he brings it to the wheel.  

what made this piece stand out?  it wasn't shiny or formed.  the potter didn't look at its perfection and choose it, he chose it because of its potential and because he knows what he wants it to be.  he knows how he will form it before he chose it.  the finished product isn't a mystery to the potter and neither is how he will get to the finished product.  the clay itself doesn't have worth.  it is only by being chosen by the potter that gives this slick lump worth, that deems it worthy to be sat upon the wheel.

so many times we see God's wheel as a burden and believe me, i've had my share of disappointments on God's wheel, but my worth has never changed and you, my friend, your worth has never changed.

you are chosen.

those three words should say it all, but read them again because we forget. i forget.

you were put on the potter's wheel because he chose you and put you there with his own two hands and friend, his hands will never leave the wheel even when you feel like you are spinning out of control, he is the one spinning the wheel.

maybe it's a lost job, a broken marriage, a death, a child, or an unmet expectation.

his hands still hold you.

Source: hollyschaeffer.tumblr.com via Holly on Pinteres

you, 

the chosen,

valued,

one of a kind 

clay.