I walked into Your shop one day

To see You working with some clay

You toiled, and fashioned it so beautifully…

A glorious piece for all eyes to see.

But this clay…

It kicks! It squirms!

What?

Does it not know?

Yes, it still needs to learn...

You are the Potter,

The Designer of life

But it’s fighting and causing You so much strife.

I watch in astonishment

Your patient face

You respect stubborn choices

And allow trial and error at one’s  own pace.

This plate falls and breaks

Plans failed, deep heartaches

And tears, with understanding, slide down Your face.

“Oh, Father

Why did You?

Whatever went wrong?”

I ask, as You pick up the pieces

So gentle, yet strong.

Your plan is in action

You moisten and soften the cracks

Back on the spinning wheel

You restore its glory back

Your grace supplies everything it may lack.

This time the clay is softened in complete trust,

Pliable--obedience takes shape at your touch,

Tenderness and character molded in the palm of your hands,

As You craft a piece so breathtaking

Reflecting the sunshine rays of Your Son!

Yet, O LORD, you are our Father.
We are the clay, you are the potter;
we are all the work of your hand.

                           Isaiah 64:8