Perhaps it may turn out a sang,
Perhaps turn out a sermon.

-- R. Burns Epistle to a Young Friend
Showing posts with label Jeremiah 18:1-4. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Jeremiah 18:1-4. Show all posts

Monday, April 1, 2013

Refine



The word that came to Jeremiah from the Lord:  “Arise, and go down to the potter's house, and there I will let you hear my words.”  So I went down to the potter's house, and there he was working at his wheel.  And the vessel he was making of clay was spoiled in the potter's hand, and he reworked it into another vessel, as it seemed good to the potter to do.  Jeremiah 18:1-4


I had a good friend who was a decent amateur potter.  I have some things she made and gave to us, and I treasure them not so much for their beauty or quality but for her sake who fashioned them.  That’s the extent of my knowledge of the potter’s art.  I can assume, though, that sometimes the potter makes a mistake with the clay, and sometimes the clay is not consistent or not of a kind that willingly takes the shape the maker intends.  The clay I know is the cold, red clay of the hills – diabolically clinging and slick as polished metal when wet, unyielding and bitterly hard when dried out.

God found Himself some clay and began to work it upon His wheel.  He was not trying things, for He knew what needed to be done, and, unlike us, unintended consequences never catch Him unaware.  He knew from the first the Vessel that would be needed, and He worked and reworked patiently, forming, finding flaws, adding, taking away, mixing and melding. 

That’s the story as it begins – in Genesis – as it ricochets through the Law and the Prophets.  He called out a man and made of him a tribe and then twelve.  They were plied four hundred years in Egypt as they grew into a nation.  Pulling and pounding, shifting and sifting, God’s hands were always upon them (something to keep in mind).  Every flaw that could not be smashed smooth into the slowly perfecting mixture had to be found and exposed and removed.  It would take centuries.  God is patient.  If He were not God, we would call Him wasteful in His extravagant disregard for all that gets put aside. 

Sometimes there is something essential to the final vessel that is too closely bonded to a flaw.  The essential must be replaced.  Where to find it?  Perhaps in the unlikeliest place, as when God needed undying loyalty and reckless devotion.  So we read that in the days of the judges, a severe famine fell upon Israel such that a man of the tribe of Judah abandoned his inheritance and sojourned in the land of those often-mocked Moabites, the descendants of Lot by debauchery.  And in that land, along with his only two sons, Elimelech died, leaving behind his aging wife and two childless daughters-in-law.

Surely this was punishment for sin.  Right?  That family line would be eradicated and forgotten.  Except that God had found in the heart of a young woman of the despised Moabites an element that He absolutely needed for that final, perfect Vessel.  

But Ruth said, “Do not urge me to leave you or to return from following you. For where you go I will go, and where you lodge I will lodge. Your people shall be my people, and your God my God.  Where you die I will die, and there will I be buried.   – Ruth 1:16-17

The whole story does not need to be repeated.  It is sufficient that we remind ourselves that Ruth had a son who, according to the Mosaic laws of inheritance, was accounted the son of her late husband and the rightful heir of Elimelech.  His name was Obed, and one of his descendants was named Jesse, who had a son named David.

… The LORD has sought out a man after his own heart, and the LORD has commanded him to be prince over his people … 

Not the end.

Tuesday, December 9, 2008

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.