Modeling Clay

One of my art teachers when I was very young was a potter. I remember watching her as she worked her wheel. With some water, the clay became malleable, and then as she spun the clay beneath her hands, wonderful shapes arose. She would spin out a pot or a bowl. Occasionally, she would spin a vase into being. If something began to go awry, she would stop the wheel, mashing and folding the clay back into a ball, reworking it until she got what she wanted. 

I imagine the prophet standing outside the stall of such a potter, watching because he felt God’s compulsion to do so—to watch and observe the process—realizing it was indicative of God and Israel. I imagine the prophet perhaps smiling to himself as the potter worked when there was a sudden recognition—yes, that is what it feels like in the hands of God…

With that in mind, I want to invite you into a little meditation this morning. I want you to put yourself out in front of that potter’s shed. I want you to see the lump of clay spinning beneath his hands. I want you to see the shapes rising and falling as he makes something, seeing immediately that nothing snaps into shape at the very first try, but that it takes work, manipulation of the clay, and patience to see through a project.

Begin by making yourself the clay.

Think of a moment when you felt God shaping you, forming you into what God believes you to be. What does it feel like to be beneath the shaping hand of God? What does it feel like to know you are becoming what you need to be? When and where did it happen? College? Afterwards? Before? When did you have a sense of what you were supposed to do with your life? Are you still in that process? I’ve met more than one eighty year old who still hasn’t decided what to be when they grow up, just as I’ve met some astounding young people who know exactly what they are to be and to do. We call this vocation in the church—the belief that God intends something for our lives, blessing us with gifts to be so, but that it takes discernment and discovery to realize exactly what that is supposed to be. 

Which brings us to a second reflection—what does it feel like to get re-formed? Ever been there? Ever had one of those moments when you felt yourself being refashioned, redone, and reconfigured into something other than what you are? That does not feel as good as the original shaping, does it? That can be a painful process. It is, of course, necessary, but it sure doesn’t feel good as it happens. Many of us pride ourselves on our flexibility and our capability of changing directions, but then comes a reformation. It is probably not all that surprising that many of the folks being reformed had no idea that they needed any reformation. In fact, we often rebel against such reshaping. It explains why some folks leave church—if God wants something other than what they are, then, no thanks, and they’re gone. 

But then comes a moment of wonder—the moment when God looks us over and says, Yes, this is what I want; this is good! We rightfully call those “mountain top” moments—they are actual and real highs when everything is exactly as it should be. They are harder to come by, but, boy, do they feel good when they come. We cannot imagine being or doing anything other than what we are. Every detail clicks into place. We are—dare I say it?—happy.

Now switch places with the potter—this time you’re behind the wheel.

Begin by recalling a moment when you shaped and formed someone as their teacher, coach, parent, or some other form of potter. Why were you the potter? What were hoping for as you worked with someone? What did that feel like? Think of the influence you held for that person. What does it feel like to know you are a role model? What did you hope to impart to them? How did you know your work of shaping was done? Did you feel the privilege of being someone’s help?

Now move again into reformation. Have you ever had to intervene with someone? Every parent knows this moment. Most teachers run into it daily. Have you ever been the implement of repentance for someone else? What does that feel like? What happened to the relationship as you became the impetus for change? This role is uncomfortable, sometimes as uncomfortable as being reformed yourself. Sometimes it is met with anger. Most of the time it begins with you being declared a meddler. What helped you stick with it? What were you hoping for? How did it test you? Push you? Force you to grow?

Finally, though, there come those wondrous moments when you see it all come to fruition. No parent has to fake the pride felt when a child strides across the stage to get their diploma. They made it; you helped them get there. No coach really needs any more accolades than simply seeing their charge succeed. I imagine Michael Phelps’ coach—do you think they needed any further prodding to know that they did what they needed to do? So many teachers feel that burst when they see another mind suddenly open to what was before a jumble of images on a page or a confused mash of thoughts. It is so very good. 

Now we are ready to bring together the clay and the potter. 

One of the simpler definitions of our collective call to ministry—for we are a priesthood of believers—is this—

God forms us to form others as we transform the world.

This is the purpose of our gathering—to let God shape and form us as disciples, then as we become apostles, taking that shaping work with us into our homes, our work, our families, our friendships, and all else, and then we alter the world, helping it become the kingdom of God as our acts and words of Christ’s compassion alter its course. We realize the mercy, grace, and redemption of God are gifts to be shared. As they shaped our lives, they can shape another’s. Life by life, person by person, the world can be made anew, more closely resembling the wonderful garden God first made.

We are the clay, God is the potter.

We are the potter, fashioning disciples.

We are the world, changing all from within.