Last year my husband and I visited a pottery shop in Greece. Countless delicate creations filled the expansive shop. I marveled at the intricate designs. The owners walked us through every step of the process, from clay lumps to kiln. A skilled potter worked the wheel as others painted and etched.
I revisited the memory of this shop as I read Jeremiah 18:1–2, in which the prophet heard God tell him to “go down to the potter’s house, and there I will let you hear my words.”
I imagined it was the Lord at the wheel. I pictured watching the demonstration from the back of a crowd, just like I had in Greece. How skillfully the Divine Artist turned the lathe. I sensed an invitation to come closer. But the crowd was large, and who did I think I was to approach the Master at the wheel?
The Potter smiled, making eye contact with me. “Come closer.”
“Who, me?” I responded.
“Yes! You.” The Artist’s voice was clear.
The crowd dissipated, and I found myself suddenly alone with the Artist.
“Come to the wheel,” the Designer said, standing. “Take my chair.”
“Oh! I couldn’t!” I immediately said. False pride held me back. “I am not worthy.”
The Potter shook his head. “My Son’s Death and Resurrection made you worthy! Now come.”
As I took the offered seat, the Artist said, “I want you to form clay too. Give me your hands.”
Guiding my fingers, the Potter kept the wheel spinning at an even pace. The skilled hands wrapped around mine transferred warmth into me.
He spoke. “If you push too hard, see what happens? Not a good result. Be gentle with the clay.”
In silence I allowed the Artist to guide my hands. The wheel turned with a gentle hum. Just the right amount of water smoothed the way.
“Do you know why I called you to the ministry you are involved in at your parish?” the Potter asked, again surprising me. I really didn’t have a single answer.
“You may think that you are serving others,” the Master Artist explained, “and you are. But I called you to this ministry to teach you about me, through them. You are learning, just as I guide your hands right now. I want you to participate in my creation. I want to use your hands to build up my reign. It is not enough for you to linger at the back of the crowd, expecting someone else to minister to you.
“I created you to be creative. Creation never stops. It’s never over until I say it’s over. And right now, I invite you to co-create the Reign of God with me.”
Nodding, I concentrated so fiercely that I didn’t notice when the Potter’s hands left mine. Like Peter sinking into the waves (Matthew 14:22–33) I called out, “Help! I can’t do this alone!”
“Precisely,” smiled the Great Potter. My mistakes multiplied. I let the wheel slow almost to a stop, and my work wobbled. The circles looked more like ovals. I shuddered and waited.
Then the Potter studied my creation with me. “I can work with that,” I heard at last.
Suddenly the wheel spun fast again, and the Artist transformed my crooked efforts into something beautiful.
“Keep trying,” the Potter said gently.
“But what I create without you is a mess,” I complained. “And the ministry I am trying to lead is not as beautiful as I imagined.”
“Are you grateful to be learning, practicing, and trying?”
“Well, yes,” I said after some thought.
“That is enough. You are enough. I will always be within a breath’s distance, so don’t worry. I have a great creation in mind, and I really want you to be part of it.”
I saw that the vase spinning on the wheel was my life, co-created with God.
