And yet, O LORD, you are our Father. We are the clay, and you are the potter. We all are formed by your hand.
This is a Bible verse that I have treasured. The image of a kindly Geppetto-like old man with his hands in clay, shaping it into something pretty, strong, and purposeful, resonated with my soul.
When I felt weak and weighted down by the recognition of sinful tendencies in my life, I would sing with passionate tears,
You are the potter; I am the clay . . . mold me and make me . . . this is what I pray . . .
In this verse, and the similar illustration in Jeremiah 18:1–6, the clay was me and God was making me better. I mentally trimmed those verses from the rest of the chapter and pasted them to my inner mirror.
Object Lesson
With this warm, fuzzy image of a gentle Maker in mind, I envisioned entering fully into the process of shaping a stubborn lump of clay into something beautiful. Like God does to me.
I persuaded a couple of friends from my weekly prayer group to sign up with me for a four-week class at a local pottery studio: “Introduction to Wheel Throwing.”
Our instructor stressed the importance of centering the clay on the bat (the round plate that spins on the wheel). The wheel spun slowly at first, then sped up once the clay was securely attached. He explained that if the potter’s hands are not cupped around it as it’s centered, the clay can fly off the bat during the shaping process.
Water is also an important component of the life and shape of the vessel. It must continuously be added to the lump of clay to keep it supple and workable. The potter cannot be afraid to get his hands dirty; in fact, they will be completely coated with “slip”—the watery residue left from dipping clay-covered hands into a nearby bowl of water—in a matter of a few minutes.
With proper moisture and firm pressure, the clay can take any shape the potter desires. But if it doesn’t cooperate, it can be smooshed and flattened so the potter can start over—as long as it is still moist and compliant.
My Turn
It didn’t take long for me to realize that I was not a gentle, loving potter. I felt intimidated. I was equal parts afraid of making a mistake and annoyed that I was making so many.
My small project was nicely centered on the bat, but I struggled to form my lump into something that even remotely resembled the gorgeous mugs, vases, and bowls displayed on the shelves behind me. I added more water to my clay and gently pushed the pedal. The instructor guided my hands so I could feel how to press my thumbs into the center—not too far down, lest the bottom be too thin and crack in the kiln—and then gently draw them out to widen the opening.
My friend Angie was eager to get her hands dirty. As she happily spun away, forming a nicely shaped dish, her foot suddenly hit the pedal too hard, and the burst of speed sent her vessel flying off the wheel and onto the floor. She briefly lamented the deformed dish but then turned off her wheel, sat her lump in the center of the bat once again. Her fingers pinched the rim into a lovely, fluted edging. “Like a pie crust,” she laughed.
With a smile, she took what had been damaged and gave it a new shape, a new look, a new life.
Meanwhile, I was mad that my bowl wasn’t turning out “the way it was supposed to.” I had only one vision of what my finished product would look like—and I just couldn’t make it happen on the wheel. This whole experience wasn’t measuring up to what I had pictured in my mind.
Going Deeper
Of course, I saw the parallels between the relationship of potter to clay and God to man. People (the clay) need to be centered in Christ and God’s Word. We need constant living water to be kept supple and moldable. God uses firm but gentle pressure in the form of adversity to shape us.
Between classes, I studied the “potter and clay” verses in Scripture again. This time I read them in their full context in Jeremiah, sensing that I was missing something that my pottery class was not teaching me.
The word that came to Jeremiah from the LORD: “Arise, and go down to the potter’s house, and there I will let you hear my words.” So I went down to the potter’s house, and there he was working at his wheel. And the vessel he was making of clay was spoiled in the potter’s hand, and he reworked it into another vessel, as it seemed good to the potter to do. Then the word of the LORD came to me: “O house of Israel, can I not do with you as this potter has done? declares the Lord. Behold, like the clay in the potter’s hand, so are you in my hand, O house of Israel. If at any time I declare concerning a nation or a kingdom, that I will pluck up and break down and destroy it, and if that nation, concerning which I have spoken, turns from its evil, I will relent of the disaster that I intended to do to it. And if at any time I declare concerning a nation or a kingdom that I will build and plant it, and if it does evil in my sight, not listening to my voice, then I will relent of the good that I had intended to do to it. Now, therefore, say to the men of Judah and the inhabitants of Jerusalem: ‘Thus says the LORD, Behold, I am shaping disaster against you and devising a plan against you. Return, every one from his evil way, and amend your ways and your deeds.’” (Jer. 18:1–11)
As I read, I realized that God gave this visual illustration to paint a specific picture for the prophet and the people he served.
God’s people in Judah and Jerusalem were living in outright rebellion, and God wanted Jeremiah to give them a vivid message. Just like the potter can crush a vessel and rework it “into another vessel, as it seemed good to the potter to do” (Jer. 18:4), so God could pluck up or break down and destroy a nation. He was demonstrating to Jeremiah the power he had to crush that lump of Israelite clay if he wanted to.
But he didn’t want to.
In verse 8, the Lord warned the prophet, “If that nation, concerning which I have spoken, turns from its evil, I will relent of the disaster that I intended to do to it.” In verse 11 the Lord begs them to “Return, every one from his evil way, and amend your ways and your deeds.”
God wanted Judah to know that he, like the potter, could take the crushed lump and rework it into something beautiful to give it new life.
The rest of the chapter shows the people blatantly declare their desire to follow their own plans. Notice the description of their sinful attitude:
But they say, “That is in vain! We will follow our own plans, and will every one act according to the stubbornness of his evil heart.” (Jer. 18:12)
Jeremiah, indignant, relinquishes them to the Lord, saying, “Forgive not their iniquity, nor blot out their sin from your sight. Let them be overthrown before you; deal with them in the time of your anger” (Jer. 18:23).
The Bigger Story
When I dig deep into the context of the verses in Jeremiah I see an even greater grace. Because these verses are not about me—they’re about God. An all-powerful God—capable of destroying a rebellious nation completely—desiring first and foremost to give it another chance.
What seems like a harsh warning to the people of Judah is just one of many opportunities God gives them to turn from their wicked ways and walk in his goodness.
Yet they refuse.
We know how the story ends; we know that God judges his stiff-necked, idolatrous people by allowing them to be taken into captivity by the Babylonians. But even in the judgment, God shows mercy.
And to this people you shall say: “Thus says the LORD: Behold, I set before you the way of life and the way of death. He who stays in this city shall die by the sword, by famine, and by pestilence, but he who goes out and surrenders to the Chaldeans who are besieging you shall live and shall have his life as a prize of war.” (Jer. 21:8–9)
Through the small, intimate picture of a potter and clay tucked into a much larger story, we are given an immense revelation of God’s character.
Because he is just, God must follow through on his forewarned judgment. Because he is merciful, mercy will always be available.
When the pottery class ended and we picked up our finished projects, I discovered that the heat of the kiln had produced a jagged crack in the bottom of my small dish.
But I took it home, put a tea-light candle in it, and enjoyed the warm glow—an admonition to look to the light of Scripture to see God, not myself, and a reminder that even a broken vessel can be redeemed.
This article first appeared at Gospel-Centered Discipleship | GCD
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