The Potter

The air is ripe with words. I feel it, thick and pregnant with ideas waiting to be tamed and transfigured through my lens. It's a good night for writing.

Today was just another day. Another day filled with frustrations and near misses. Another day full of situations I wish had gone better. Another day of new revelations, shattered hopes, and reaffirmed faith that I am not alone.

I found myself talking to HIM. He that knows me through and through and watched all the bits of me come together into an image of His likeness. He who smiled and breathed air into my fragile frame. He who called me forth out of the depths. He who likes me.

I was having a heated tearful debate with Him, I was at an impasse. I could not make myself move past a place that I had decided it was time to move on from. Healthy doesn't look like this. I want to be healthy. So, I need to look like "this." I have not been able to attain. I have come to the end of myself. Again. This always seems to happen.

God brings something to me... a fresh view, provision, a plan... and I say "Thank you! You are amazing!! I'll take it from here." And I proceed to show God how faithful I can be with what He's given me. But somewhere in there I cross a line, and what may start as good intentions turns to self reliance. And lately there's a vein I've tapped into in the scripture. God desires us to rely on Him. He orchestrated battles and armies so that they would know that it was HIM and not them that had gained a victory. He gives us story after story about the underdog who no one wants being the exact thing that He chooses to bring forth His plans and purposes on the earth. The unlovely rejected woman, the whore, the short, the deniers of Christ, the undesirables of society, the shunned, the widow, the dead people! Because its not about the vessel. Its about the Potter.

The end of myself is a pivotal and broken up mess of a place. When I've finally spun my wheels deep into the mud of life trying to prove what an amazing mom I am, what a great friend, how prompt, and clean, and spiritual, and loving... and, and and... trying to prove that I deserve to be here... I come to the end. And I can't remember why I'm doing all the things I'm doing. And I'm angry, and sad, and disappointed that my best didn't get me where I wanted to go. But I forget that I'm only going anywhere because he set me in motion. And I forget that I'm not building permanence here on this stopping off place we call Life. And my eyes turn in and turn sour as the stuff that doesn't matter in the end piles before me. Relying on myself for anything is just a big fat joke. The balance between being faithful with what God has placed in my hands to do and taking it upon myself to make things happen is a slippery place that I haven't quite figured out. A farmer friend of mine used to answer when praised for his crops, "I planted 'em, but God growed 'em."

 But He likes me. And He picked me for this time, in this place on the earth, and He has stocked my heart, mind, and spirit with tools and seeds and talents. He values me. He values my "yes."
And He KNOWS ME. And He knows what I can and can't give. What could I possibly do for the God of the universe that He could not do?! Who am I but His clay? It's not about what I can accomplish. It's about my heart. It's about His heart. and Others Hearts.
 Where do I get these crazy thoughts? The thoughts and lies that say that He is somehow shocked by my lack of determination, or my lack of dedication, or my lack of ability. It is to His Glory that He would use an imperfect vessel and call it perfect for His purpose.
And He ought to know. For He knit me together in my mother's womb, and He doesn't make mistakes. And I can choose to rest in His loving-kindness. And I can choose to believe that I really am enough. Right now. Not ten years down the road when I've finally achieved "XYZ character traits," or learned "XYZ truth." He delights in me, now. I don't need to worry about how or when I will "arrive," because I'm starting to see that it's really the journey that matters.

And it's challenging to accept, and it's messy and I can't see the big picture, but I can rest here and know that I'm safe and right where I'm supposed to be... here in the Potter's Hand.