The Story of a Clay Pot
“There was a time when I was just a dumb lump of red clay. Then one day my master came. He took me, brought me home, rolled and pounded me on a wooden table. Again and again, he poked his fingers into me until finally I yelled out: ‘Don’t do that! Leave me alone!’ But he only smiled and gently said: “Not yet!”
Then, whoommmm! I was placed on a spinning wheel and suddenly spun around and around and around until I lost all my sense of direction: ‘Stop it; don’t you see that I’m getting sick? Quickly, take me from the spinning wheel!’ But the master only nodded in understanding and quietly said: “Not yet!”
Then he placed me carefully into an oven. I never felt such heat. I yelled and knocked and pounded at the door: ‘It is hotter than hell – I’m burning to ashes. Please get me out of here before it is too late.’ I could only read his lips as he shook his head from side to side and silently pronounced, “Not yet!”
After I had cooled down he carefully picked me up, looked at me and brushed some dust away. Then he brought the colors! The fumes were horrible! ‘Please… you have no mercy! Please, Stop it!’ But he only shook his head and said: “Not yet!”
An hour or later he came back and placed a mirror before me and said: “Look at yourself!” And I did.What I saw amazed me. ‘That’s not me!’ I said. ‘It is too beautiful…’ With a very compassionate voice he spoke: “This is what you are meant to be,” and then he explained: “I know it hurt you when I rolled and kneaded you on the table. But if I had not gotten the air out of you, you would have broken.
I knew you must have lost all your sense of orientation when I was spinning you. But without this you would never have come into this form. I know the fumes of the colors were intolerable when I painted you all over. But if I had not done that, you would not have had any color in your life.”
God is the potter and we are the clay. He will mold us and will expose us to just enough pressures of just the right kinds that we will become a perfect piece of His liking. Let your potter work on you.