The word which came to Jeremiah from the Lord, saying, Arise, and go down to the potter's house, and there I will cause thee to hear my words. Then I went down to the potter's house, and, behold, he wrought a work on the wheels.And the vessel that he made of clay was marred in the hand of the potter: so he made it again another vessel, as seemed good to the potter to make it.*
In the cool of the evening I found myself being drawn away from where I was headed and walking down a lightly worn path, toward a small humble house, almost a tiny cottage. Possibly only a couple rooms in it. There is a peculiar glow about it that seems to draw one towards it. I surprise myself that I am allowing myself to pursue this, I’ve been so caught up in my life, being so busy, I haven’t taken much time for much else. As I approach, I see the door is open as if enticing one to see in, just a bit, I can see that it is a very simple place. A workshop of sorts, dirt type of floor, very earthy smells waft out as I stand there. I hear someone inside, I want to enter - but hesitate. I stand at the door and then softly knock. I am greeted by a calm voice that seems to be laced with love to come in. I step inside to a small room. I looks like there are only 2 or 3 rooms at the most, very simple, only the essential needs if even that. I see a craftsman sitting at a spinning circular wheel. A lump of clay in His hand.
His strong hand molds the clay a bit in His hand, inspects it a bit then works with what it is. He firmly tosses it onto the center of the wheel and begins the work of centering the piece, watering the piece and working it back and forth, up and down, until He can feel that it is perfectly centered into where He can work with it in a balanced manner. As I am drawn into this I’m so very focused on His hands, the small movements that cause so much impact on the shape of the clay. His hands look scarred… He works silently, ever so gently forming the clay, drawing it into shape, placing pressure at the top to hollow it out, pulling up the sides and pressuring it into shape, he sees a blemish and then begins working and reworking to fix the blemish… all this time watering his hands and keeping the clay moist and pliable. I release my eyes from Him and look around, broken and misshaped vessels are sitting about, Sacks of moist clay, tools… all with a layer of clay dust and dried clay. I see Him remove the finished vessel from the wheel, only to take a dried broken vessel in hand.
He places the vessel on his bench and proceeds to work it with a mallet and brings it into small pieces and eventually into powder, adding water to bring it into a clay form once again… setting it aside to rest until He can work it again, and taking up another broken piece to see how He can restore it…. my eyes watch His hands, the scars are seen again… my eyes watch, but my mind wonders - What am I witnessing? Who is this master craftsman? What are these pieces? Is this me? Is this a message for me, given from the scarred hands that took nails on a cross for me? Is this…. my mind races at this awareness, the clay, the water, the molding.. my busy life, my rushed days, … He looks at me for a brief moment, His eyes seem to plead with me… “do you see?” Oh Lord, like Israel, I need to be remade, like Isaiah I need to be undone! I need to be worked in your hands, pounded, watered, beaten to a pure clay without air of myself inside. Firmly placed on Your wheel, firmly held and worked with to be centered in YOU. Watered with your grace and mercy so that I am able to be pliable and molded. Pressure me that I can rest in Your hands and trust your fingers and tools, to make me into Your vessel that, would be worthy of a KING’s service.
My mind racing within me, the Master dimmed his candles and motioned for the door. It was growing late and I knew I needed to go, I breathed deeply wanting to remember every aspect of this place, I turned to see HIm again but He was exiting to another room, I feebly uttered a thank you, feeling unworthy to speak even that. I entered out into the cool and damp night. I had much on my mind, I had so much to ponder…
*Jer 18
