Let me tell you a story about a piece of pottery. It had heard the Potter speak about how useful and stunning it was. It was destined to be important. It longed for the day it would realize its dreams of greatness. However, as the days melted into weeks, the weeks moved to months. Then slowly the months became years. Of course the piece began to feel betrayed. Wasn’t it meant for more than this shelf? Wasn’t it meant to be used for something important? Wasn’t it meant to be on display? It was dark here and difficult to see.
“I don’t like this place!” shouted the piece. “Surely, I am destined to be more. Instead, I am on a shelf, abandoned and forgotten.”
In the first days, it had repeatedly cried out and complained. As its voice grew hoarse, it began to create schemes to get off the shelf. Surely, there was someplace better. The piece would find that place and be there. The piece was never quite successful at this attempt. It could go nowhere, without the Potters hands. So on the shelf it sat. A beautiful piece of pottery, wasted; on the shelf; in the dark; abandoned and forgotten.
I interrupt this allegory to bring a mirror to the scene, much like God has interrupted my week to bring a mirror to my life scene. As I gazed into this mirror, I realized, I am not a beautiful piece of pottery. I am a lump of clay, in the dark, waiting to be molded.
The past few years have been difficult. I’ve been frustrated at the thought of being on the shelf and abandoned. I’ve been wounded, each time a cut has come to my heart. I’ve been humbled as my pride has been assaulted. In my arrogance, I have believed myself to be a completed piece of beautiful pottery left on a shelf to waste away. When in reality, I am a lump of clay being kneaded, wedged, and cut in preparation for the creation the great Potter has in mind. I am stiff, stubborn, and have air bubbles of pride and arrogance that needed to be worked out of my heart before God can do anything with me. I am a lump of clay. It brings a strange excitement to my heart. I am not yet, what I am supposed to be, but surely I am not, what I once was.
What has made my heart full is the thought that while we are stills lump of clay, God sees in us what He will accomplish and how He will gain the glory from His work in our hearts. He does not see the cold, dark, formless shape that we are. He sees beyond that, to what He has in mind for us. He sees us as beautiful. So, you realize, I cannot finish the allegory yet, because it has just started. We are in the process of being wedged, cut, and debubbled and soon will be ready for molding.