Master potter

The Master potter, what a funny name for this creator. Some would call him crazy since not all pots he puts on display are perfect. Yet, despite the unperfected clay art, He got the title Master. I couldn’t help myself; if I am honest it all interest me, the beauty over so many pieces. Colors, shapes and styles, all with different styles. I could hear many people walk by with there nose up in the air and laughing. What was the master potter thinking of that one? That was true, the more desirable pieces have not been displayed for awhile. Yet I keep coming back, there is something about his more peculiar ones that captivate me.

I guess they remind me of life in so many ways, not perfect. Cracked, chipped and all over the place. Gliding my finger over the clay pieces I couldn’t help but think of the rough world. How it seems to make everyone else hard hearted. A gentile and deep voice spoke, you see the beauty don’t you? I said yeah, while I kept admiring the pieces. The voice spoke again, would you like to see how it is made? That garbed my attention, You are the Master Potter! I spun around and knocked off one of the weird shaped somethings. It’s pieces made it’s way across every direction possible. I closed my eyes afraid to open them and see His face.

I just broke the Master potters creations in front of Him, it can’t git more embarrassing. He touched me on the shoulder, Don’t worry about it He said. I looked up at Him as He told me It was time for Him to work on that piece again. The Master potter went inside, waiting until I would follow. I eventually did, I looked around the shop taking in the hundreds of pots, vases, and things made of various colors. What my eyes kept staring at was the pile in the corner of hard clay and the ugliest I don’t know what’s. The Master most have noticed because he explained the pile. Those are the people who have hardened the hearts to the point where I can no longer use them. People? He sat down and began to work.

Before He even touched the clay I watched it move, pulling in all sorts of directions. I asked the Master potter what He was making, not the obvious question of “why is the clay moving by itself”. He smirked and said simply, a bowel.

That is to tall to be a bowel.

I know that caddie, but Eric is trying to go his own way. He has always been a bit stubborn. What he needs is going to be a painful process. He stopped the potters wheel and pulled out a tool; then began scrapping out all the hard parts and impurities.

Caddie’s mind started spinning, it was not the easiest information to take in. where do you even begin on something like this. It not only sounded crazy but seemed like it too. Yet, she wanted to trust Him. Something seems to be tugging at her heart. Whatever it was she opened it, listening like never before.

Eric is a easier one then most, most of them go wiled once I start to change them. Luke warm hearts are the most frustrating, and put up more of a tantrum. He began working on the clay again and it pulled together better then before. He painted some olive branches on the bowel, while He explained. Eric was crushed but not destroyed, that is how you begin to get bitterness out of ones heart. The Master walked over to the kelm and placed the bowel in it. On His way back to His work station He grabbed a piece of clay off the pile in the corner. This is a heart of someone in this world, at one point they were holy and pure. Something beautiful in the making, but sin is causing the pain and darkness they hope to destroy. This one here, I have given her over to her desires. Letting it consume her, yet she wonders why there is evil in the world.

Why is there evil in the world?

Those words seemed painful to the potter, He closed His eyes and sighed. Silence sometimes says more about what a person is feeling, more then their words. Finally He looked up and said, “Because it is not my design. A single tear fell from one of His eyes as He continued. Perfectly I designed everything, every detail carefully planned. He looked straight into her eyes, Caddie saw compassion and fire deep in His eyes. They have chosen there design over mine. Their design is the evil and pain, they ask why I don’t stop it. Caddie I have to be just, and give them into their desires. It is Because of my Love that I use what they intend for evil, for good.

He placed down the solid rock of clay, and picked up jar with incredible detail. Flowers covered it with brilliant colors, for a lack of better words it was perfect. This is what I had in mind for that piece of clay but she took a path predestined for destruction. He placed it back down, Caddie thought He looked sad. He turned, does this make sense to you?

It hit her so deep. The design, her brokenness. Seeing what he had planned for her, the Love we miss understood. Seeing the world and seeing God… The thoughts leading one to another, leaving a feeling deep inside her. She needed Him, couldn’t live without Him. Wanted everything to change inside her, to become what He had made her to be. Not what she had planned for herself. She didn’t want herself to fight the process. She wanted to become the best of His design, not just the portions of her self she allowed to change time from time. Words came like a flood, Change me! Make me your vessel, I want to look like how you designed me to be.

He moved to a fresh piece of clay, getting ready to work on it.

Did you here me? I want to be yours, you can have all I have. The Master scraped at a hard part of the clay. A pang of pain vibrated in her body, a tear fell.

He looked up, and told her It is not going to be easy. It is going to be rough, and your old desires are going to tempt you. The more you fight the more it will hurt. The more you give me the more at peace you will be.

She took a deep breath in, contemplating what that would mean. Afraid of what she might lose, but then deciding He was worth the cost. She spoke slowly, making certain she meant every word she said.

I – Surrender- All. Take – control.

He looked into her eyes, as if seeing her very soul. Then began to work on her heart.

-R.D. Jess

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Hi, I am R.D. Jess. I am a christian writer and postpartum doula. My relationship with my God is not a religion but a state of who I am. I love being there for others and find that writing the hard truth is the best way to make people feel less alone.

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