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Listen to the devotion here.
Two images came immediately to mind when I read this text. The first: Don Hunt, the potter at Bethel Horizons. Don was a teacher from the very depth of his being, and when he taught pottery at the studio at Bethel Horizons, he told a story along with it. He spoke of God breathing life into the clay. He spoke of centeredness and used the clay to model it. “When we are centered, we can grow,” he would say as he, with his expert hands, made a pot grow from the lump of clay. “When we lose our center or try to move too fast,” he said, “we turn in on ourselves and fall down,” making the pot lose its center and fall. When Don demonstrated, he made it look so easy. He was practically one with the clay, he knew it and knew how to apply just the right pressure to make beautiful creations. His big hands were so gentle and his words meaningful.
The second: Being in the Bethel Horizons studio with our ninth graders. Though our instructors make it look so easy, it doesn’t usually come so easily to most of us. The instructors get a little dirty. We get covered in wet, sticky clay. Of course, it doesn’t help that most of the time, the students end up sneaking up on each other to cover each other in clay. Even when clay fights don’t ensue, we struggle to get the water to clay ratio right, usually splattering water over ourselves. The towels on our laps soak through onto our jeans. Working with clay is messy business. Another thing that sticks in my mind, though, from these outings is the fact that our potters stick to it. Though centering the clay and getting it to grow into a beautiful creation isn’t nearly as easy as the instructors make it look, everyone tries. The ones for whom it comes a little more easily help those who struggle a bit more. Covered in muddy clay, they sit at the wheels trying again and again to create something. And most of the time, the hard work pays off.
Though Isaiah writes long before electric pottery wheels made the work slightly easier, he writes to people who know pottery well. They use it every day for cooking and eating and carrying water. My guess is that most of the people for whom Isaiah writes had watched a potter at work, carefully sculpting the pots and vessels from lumps of clay. They knew the care that it took. And the mess it made.
Metaphors can only take us so far, but what an amazing one this one is for our God. We are the clay and you are our potter. You are the one who takes great care in what you do. You are the one who knows how to apply just the right pressure to make us grow into something beautiful. You are the one who is willing to get really messy as you create. You are the one willing to try over and over again when we get off center. You are the ones whose gentle hands mold and shape us to be who you desire us to be. You are the one who sees so much potential in us. We are the clay and you are our potter.
This little metaphor buried near the end of Isaiah says so much about the God whom we wait for in this season of Advent. Though we know God-with-us, we still long for him. We still wonder what God desires for us. We still question and ponder and wait. Yet, we rest in the promise that our God-with-us is one who dwells with us in the muck of life and, like a good potter, doesn’t stop just because he gets a little messy. In fact, what we know about Christ is that he practically runs into the mess. He goes where the people are--those who are cast away and sick and dirty. He doesn’t leave them, or us, in the depths of despair, but walks right along with us in the very messiness that is life.
And even in the midst of that messiness, God, our potter, is busy molding and shaping us. God is working through those around us, and the Word that is on the loose among us, to help us grow. This, of course, is a life long journey. The Spirit blows around us, whispering into the depths of our being--follow me. Find your passions. Keep growing. Follow the one who walks with you in muck of life.
My sinful self wants to control my experiences, to protect myself and not have to challenge myself too much. But in those rare times when I can let go and listen and watch and learn, I realize that God has more in mind for me, and for us. God, the potter, takes care to continue working on us, from baptism until the moment we die. God, the potter, knows us intimately and has promised to keep applying that gentle pressure to help us grow into something even more beautiful than we might be able to imagine. God, the potter, promises to, and does, walk with us right through the messiness of life--the sorrow and grief and disease and despair so that we can catch glimpses of the hope and grace that God has already showered upon us.
Advent is a season to wait and watch. The challenge, sometimes, is to see through the muck to see the beauty. To watch for the glimpses of hope and grace and mercy and forgiveness amidst all of the distractions. And to rest into the amazing promise of a God who is with us and keeps working on us so that we might live fully into the image in which we are created. We are the clay and you are our potter. Amen.
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