“But now, O Lord, you are our Father; we are the clay, and you are our potter; we are all the work of your hand.” Isaiah 64:8
“Has the potter no right over the clay, to make out of the same lump one vessel for honorable use and another for dishonorable use?” Romans 9:21
Oh, how I am beyond myself to be pottery on the shelf in my Master’s dining room. I am evidence of the work of His hands. I have nothing to say but thank you. Thank you, Potter-Father, for choosing me to represent you before your guest. Thank you for allowing me a front-row seat at the supper feast. Thank you for making me a vessel of mercy. Full of honor I am.
He has shaped me into the form of a bowl. I am a witness at all the dinners my Master invites the guests to. I rejoice when He picks me up with His two hands. The warmth of my divine potter palms stirs in my heart such anticipation that it causes great delight. He often carries me over to the table in front of all the other pottery. It’s not pride in my heart; it’s gratitude. I also rejoice when the Master chooses a different vessel of honor on the shelf. My soul dances because I see a fellow piece of pottery enjoying the choice of our master. My position on the shelf while my fellow pottery is being used on the table for guests is still one of honor. The guests often walk around the dining room and observe the works of my Master’s hands, and they look on with amazement. I am content to be filled with His food on the table or placed on the shelf watching my Master love on his guest.
Just being in the room and on the shelf is my joy. I still can’t believe He created me for honorable use. I love my Potter. I adore his personality. I watch in wonder how He speaks to His guest and to me, and there is no other place I would rather be. My love has been learned from observing His love. He has shown me this by how he handpicks pieces of pottery for each feast He plans. Sometimes my little dimensions can’t hold the beautiful olives He is serving, and so a bigger bowl is picked up from the shelf and placed on the table. I love when any piece of His handiwork gets selected. My joy comes from His intentionality. He selects everything with a purpose. I can’t hold his new wine, and his cups can’t hold his stew. We all have different purposes, and my joy is in His inventive mind. Wow, isn’t He wonderful?
What peace is in the room. What peace is mixed in with my mud! Worry and fear are foreign feelings in the dining room of my Master-Potter because those things aren’t in the new creation process. I look on to an atmosphere of grace and compassion and get to be in the room when my Master is talking out loud to Himself. He reveals great and hidden things to all of his vessels, knowing we are listening in on his thinking-out-loud moments. It’s in watching His peace that makes storage on the shelf peaceful. I’m completely content with being patient because I see how patient He is with His guests. Whether He uses me for this dinner or the next, my ability to be patient is because no matter what, I am in the dining room of my Master and I have a front-row seat to every dinner He hosts. Though the feeling of honor is great when He selects me for His special occasions, the honor is still there when He doesn’t. My fellow pottery rejoice over me and I over them whenever we are selected. Shelf and table are both still in the presence of our Potter; that’s why it’s easy to be content. Our delight is in Him, not in our usage.
Two of the most beautiful ingredients my Master used when forming us in His hands are kindness and goodness. We literally become this as vessels because He used those materials. It’s in our clay. We can’t help but give off kindness and goodness. We are all so full of gratitude to even be in the room that resentment and envy have no place. In fact, it seems odd to even possess those qualities when those ingredients don’t exist in his pottery-making room. It is good what He has done. It is perfect the way He designed us. My little bowl self fits perfectly next to his vessels of wine and plates of food. This is good. I am good because He formed me from His good hands. I model goodness on His shelf even when I am watching the feast. He is always good in His selection. He didn’t design me to be evil to my pottery family, and so in my makeup, goodness glistens always.
He is a gentle Potter, and therefore I am a gentle vessel. I don’t cut the lips of His guest by being a chipped bowl. I’m not cracked from falling off the shelf in an attempt to be used by him. I am clay mixed with the attribute my Father possesses called self-control. It’s in me. I gently abide in my Master’s dining room with His self-control in me awaiting whatever decision He is going to make. His feasts are elaborate. They require much planning and much pottery. His hospitable heart is always looking for ways he can love the least of the guests. He needs all the pottery on the shelves at any given moment. We are here because He hand-crafted us. He wants us. He desires to fill us so we can glorify Him by showing the guest of honor how creative a potter He is.
Us aged pottery love when He enters the room with a new vessel. We rejoice in their shape, their purpose, and their future joy. We aged pottery love to share with them all the stories of being used and also help them realize the qualities the Potter has mixed into their clay. Blessed are we! We have been created to be a part of the supper of the Lamb together. Our Potter has made us glad. Gladness at even being in the room enraptures me.