In the Potter's hands

We are nearing the end of a rough week, and I am thinking about clay pots.

There's an old Indian tale I love about a cracked pot. As the story goes, a water-bearer daily carries two water pots across his shoulders up to his master's house. One pot loses half its water on each journey because it is cracked. Miserable and ashamed of his imperfection, the flawed vessel apologizes one day to the water-bearer for only being able to do half what he was created to do. It is then revealed that with this imperfection in mind, the water-bearer has planted seeds on the cracked pot's side of the path to be watered so that flowers could grow to decorate the master's table and make it beautiful. 

I wept the first time I heard this story years ago because it made me think about my baby boy---a twin who lives with some consequences of a traumatic birth. He is a smart, funny, and gifted child whom the world might consider to be flawed because he limps slightly and doesn't have full use of his right hand. But God can do amazing things with a flawed vessel, and I have always known that my son will do something wonderful in this world to bring glory and honor to his Creator.

My baby boy is eleven now, and his name, appropriately, is Clay.

Early this morning, a friend of mine shared some thoughts with me on Jeremiah 18:1-6. In this story the Lord tells Jeremiah to go to the potter's house and wait for a word. Jeremiah gets there and watches the potter as he fashions a vessel, but the vessel is damaged. He notices that instead of throwing it away and starting over, the potter begins to shape that marred vessel into something new. And then the Lord speaks to Jeremiah...

Can I not do with you as this potter? Look, as the clay is in the potter's hand, so are you in My hand...(v. 6).

And can He not do the same with me? 

I hate the fact that I am a flawed vessel. Recurring thoughts of regret from my past cause me to long for a do-over, and I know this longing is futile. But thankfully I am in the hands of the ultimate Potter, and He is reshaping me each day and through every trial. Even when I've fallen on the floor and been smashed to bits, in my brokenness He picks up the pieces and puts me back on the wheel. At this moment He is molding me into a new vessel that I pray can actually be used for something worthy. 

Lord, make me new. Do whatever You have to do to mold me into something You can use. May I be soft and pliable in Your hands.