THE BEAUTY OF BEING CLAY
“You are the Potter. I am the clay. Mold me and make me, this is what I pray.”
This was another one of those songs I grew up singing as a little girl that pops in my head every once in a while. Today, as I sit here typing, I am realizing several things about this song that I didn’t before:
The request made is not an easy one. It sounds melodic and sweet singing a little diddy asking God to change your heart and make it true like His own, to be molded and made. But… that’s not easy. In fact, it’s painfully excruciating if we allow it to be done the way He wants it done and we don’t shy away from each part of the process.
Molding clay and making it a masterpiece hurts. I looked up the process of making a clay pot and imagined being the clay. Honestly, it just sounds like torture. First you have to knead the clay to remove any air bubbles (ouch!), then form it into a ball (oof!). Then you throw the ball of clay onto the dry wheel for it to stick (ah!), and press it into a conical shape (ee!). You spin the wheel while wetting the clay (mmm that feels nice) as you move it to the center of the wheel with your hands (okay, not too bad). You next make your hands wet again while switching between forming a cone (oh my goodness!) and pressing it down into a flat disk (ow!). Repeat several times (what?!) to condition (mercy Lord!) the clay. ALL of that happens, and you’re just NOW getting to start forming the pot (seriously, though?) by pushing your thumb into the center of the clay until it’s about half an inch (1.25cm) from the bottom (sheesh!). You gradually increase the size of the indentation by slowly pulling the finger you’re using towards the outer wall (so, we’re just gonna drag this pain out, are we now?). Keep doing this until the wall of the pot has reached the desired thickness (we could be doing this for a long time and I’m waiting for the fun part for the clay still). You remove the pot from the wheel using a piece of wire or fishing line across the bottom (hey hey hey, watch it now!). And last, but not least, you get to either dry it or fire it in a kiln (are we finished yet?). And THAT, my friends, is the process of making a clay pot (finally!)! The best part of the entire process was being finished. It was the product itself. There was not a single step (except maybe the water on the clay) that would be enjoyable for the clay itself.
Clay doesn’t know what it needs to be or could become. Clay is 100% dependent on what a potter does to it. It can’t ask for a different or easier process. It is at the full mercy of the potter. Some types of clay, I can imagine, are harder to work with than others. Some may need more water, and some may need more prayer (lol!) to get it as the potter wants it to be for the creation in his or her mind to become a reality.
A real potter who loves what they do will make sure that their work is a genuine reflection of who they are. Again, clay knows nothing. Clay might even question the motives of the potter due to how much this process sucks. But if clay were to realize that the potter wants their work to be quality because it is a representation of themself, then, in faith, the clay will succumb to what feels more like a beating to the will of the potter vs a sculpting to the heart of the potter. The clay will endure because it trusts that the end result will be worth the long, painfully meticulous process of birthing a unique masterpiece.
“Clay is 100% dependent on what a potter does to it. It can’t ask for a different or easier process. It is at the full mercy of the potter.”
I asked God in summer 2011 to take me on a journey, a journey of becoming who I hoped to be, who I wanted to be, and, ultimately, who He created me to be. The journey has never ended, but has been a continuum of long, dreadful molding and making. I have not enjoyed this process at all. The process of being clay has not been fun. It absolutely sucks. But the end result is why I’ve allowed myself to always keep pushing through. I wanted to be a masterpiece handcrafted by the Potter Himself. I asked intentionally for this, not thinking deeply about how painful it would be. And each year has only been more painful than the years before in some way, shape or form.
But, it’s been good pain. Necessary pain. Transformative pain. Healing pain. Revealing pain. Humbling pain. Repentant pain. Remorseful pain. Purifying pain. Pain driven by the Potter’s perfect love for me.
I can only imagine Jesus putting on His apron and sitting down at His wheel with me as a lumpy, shapeless blob with the potential to become something wonderful. I can see Him with a smile on His face as He starts the process. I can see moments of detailed concentration, wiping sweat from His brow and smears of wet clay getting on His forehead. I can see Him moving His head around to see me at different angles as He keeps spinning me and shaping me. I can see Him grinning as the process is almost finished. I can see Him taking me to the kiln to be refined. Though hot, I don’t come out burned, but beautiful. I can see the joy of a pleased Potter beaming at me, proud of the work He created.
It has been the results after the pain that I fought for and continue to fight for. It has been the opportunity for the Potter to look at me and be proud of what He created. It has been the satisfaction of looking back on the various stages of my journey, remembering the different seasons of my life where I was even worried that I still wouldn’t become a a work of art, and seeing that the Potter has had confidence in what He was doing the entire time.
This past year has felt like this full pot-making process more than any other year of my life. I’m at the end of the year feeling all sorts of emotions and processing a ton of moments. But I am very thankful that I made the decision I made that summer long ago. It was the best decision I have ever made.
I never knew how beautiful clay was until I became a masterpiece.
