The Parable of the Clay

Once upon a time, a lump of clay sat in the Potter's house. Clay looked around at all the beautiful and useful objects the Potter had made.

"I want the Potter to use me, too," Clay thought. "I'm ready and willing to be shaped in the Potter's hands."

But as days went by, it seemed that the Potter had forgotten Clay. Day after day, he sat in a tub, alone except for other lumps of clay that were waiting, too. Clay didn't know that waiting was part of the maturing process. Sitting still and waiting was refining Clay to be more easily molded in the Potter's hands. Finally, the day came when the Potter reached into the tub and chose Clay!

"At last," Clay thought, "the Potter will use me! He will fashion me into a vessel for His service!"

Instead, the Potter dropped Clay onto a hard surface and began to pound and press- harder and harder.

"Potter," Clay thought, "why are you treating me so? I only want to be a vessel for You."

Clay didn't know that the Potter was removing many tiny bubbles that if not forced out of him, could one day in a heated situation make him explode.

Just when Clay thought he couldn't bear the pounding any longer, it stopped. Before he had a chance to recover, he was plopped onto a revolving platform which spun him faster and faster, until he completely lost his bearings.

As Clay clung to the spinning platform, he felt the Potter's hands begin to press and squeeze him more than he thought he could bear. At first, he resisted the Potter's hands, but resisting made him feel as if he would break. He submitted. As he spun on the wheel and the Potter pressed and guided, Clay felt himself begin to take on a useful shape.

"Now the Potter will use me," Clay thought. "Now I am ready for service."

Still his world spun. Now the Potter brought out a sharp instrument and began to carve away bits here and there. They were a part of Clay, and it hurt when the Potter took them away. There was nothing wrong with them, and Clay didn't understand why. He didn't know that in order to be strong and useful, anything excess and off-balance must be removed.

"Surely the worst is over," Clay thought to himself as the spinning finally stopped.

Just as he thought it, the Potter picked up a fine wire and with one swift motion, severed Clay from the platform he had come to rely on. As the Potter lifted him through the air, Clay felt the bottom had dropped out of his world.

"The Potter is putting me to use now," Clay told himself, trying to calm his fear.

Instead of being used by the Potter, Clay found himself alone again, sitting on a shelf. He could tell that his time with the Potter had changed him. He was no longer the unrefined lump he had once been. In the Potter's hands, Clay had taken on a useful form.

"I could be of service now," Clay thought to himself. "Why won't the Potter use me?"

Days passed into weeks, and Clay began to notice another change. No longer was he flexible as he had once been. He felt himself grow dry and stiff. He wondered how the Potter could use him now. Then, one day, the Potter came again and lifted Clay from the shelf where he waited.

"Now you're ready for the kiln," the Potter said.

Clay remembered hearing other vessels talk of the kiln, of how the Potter had used it to prepare them for service.

"Yes, Potter," Clay thought. "Do what it takes to make me useful to You."

But, as the door of the kiln closed behind him, Clay realized that the Potter had forgotten to glaze him! Without a beautiful sheen, how would he bring glory to the Potter?

"Wait," Clay thought sadly. "Where is my glaze? If I don't shine, how will I be an ornament that brings praise to You?"

There was no reply from the Potter. Instead, Clay began to feel overcome by stifling heat. He felt as if a part of himself was burning away as he hardened into an immovable shape. Would there be anything left for the Potter to use? After a time too long for Clay to measure, the kiln cooled and the Potter opened the door.

"Perfect," said the Potter, as He touched Clay's rough surface. Gently, He lifted Clay and filled him with scented oil.

The oil soaked into Clay's unglazed sides and a sweet fragrance filled the room. At last, Clay knew, he was the vessel the Potter had created him to be.

...We have this treasure in earthen vessels, that the excellency of the power may be of God, and not of us. (2 Corinthians 4:7, KJV)