Big Wheels Keep on Turnin'

I’ve switched to the New American Standard, primarily because it’s the one on my desk right now. Covered in antique red leather, mine is well broken in, as it should be after seventeen years. It lies flat, stays open where I want it, and is a good translation.

For we are His workmanship, created in Christ Jesus for good works, which God prepared beforehand, that we should walk in them. – Ephesians 2:10

The word which came to Jeremiah from the LORD saying, “Arise and go down to the potter’s house, and there I shall announce My words to you.” Then I went down to the potter’s house, and there he was, making something on the wheel. But the vessel that he was making was spoiled in the hand of the potter; so he remade it into another vessel, as it pleased the potter to make. – Jeremiah 18:1-4

Yesterday I commented on Isaiah 27:1 about the creative potential of the chaotic and of all the stuff that is not-God, or not-yet-God. I guess I’m continuing on the theme today with some variation.

When Paul says “His workmanship” he is not talking about the quality of craft seen in construction or cabinetry, but about the efforts of an Artist. God does not rely on formulas. He laughs at the systematic approach -- no standards and practices for the Almighty. In the sense of being merciful to all, He is no respecter of persons; however, in the sense of meeting us where we are, He very much does respect individuality. His work in our lives is guided only by wisdom. It is all art – meaning that He uses the raw material at hand in a unique and specific way.

The potter sits down at his wheel and begins to work on a lump of clay. He has in mind a vessel, but the clay is not cooperating. Perhaps it is too wet, or too dry, or maybe there are some unusual elements or impurities in its composition. Instead of taking the precise and beautiful shape the potter envisions, it is uneven, warped, or otherwise marred.

But this potter is wise. He pulled this lump out of the great chaos of the claypit himself. By his effort to shape it, he has found its limitations and weaknesses. A lesser craftsman might toss aside this flawed material and seek better, but the master does not do so. In his eyes, everything drawn out of the pit has its unique flaws, as well as its unique capacity. He does not destroy the beauty of this lump by forcing it into an ugly imitation of what it can never be. Instead, he takes the marred vessel and reworks it into what it is meant to be, and what pleases him.

In the end, it is not just a vessel for common use, but a work of art that brings light and joy to those who behold it.

Sometimes the chaos seems threatening and fearful. We wonder how much of this surreal weirdness one is supposed to endure. How can there ever be beauty again? All is disorder. The landmarks have been moved. The foundations are shaken. Life makes no sense, and all we feel is pressure and despair.

It is just the hand of the Master. He has found our flaws, and He has folded us back into the shapeless blob He first carried out of the pit. Yet even as we despair, He begins to smile as He causes us to take a new and perfect form – perfect for that raw essence that is the individual.

That odd streak of blue just needs to be in the right place. The too dry and the too moist will be fine once reworked together. What looked like not enough will be a delicate, soaring thing evoking heaven, and drawing gasps of admiration from the angels.

And so the wheel turns.