I am Clay 

       As a lump of clay plopped down onto the table in front of me I looked up with bewilderment.  My grandmother’s eyes were glowing with playful excitement as she said, “That’s enough for one good size pitcher”.    I set my hand on the stiff mass of mud and said, “This stuff is no good.  It’s hard.  It’s, it’s worthless.  What am I supposed to do with it?” 

        I could just tell that my grandma was waiting for that reaction from me, but it still didn’t stop me from voicing my frustrations.  Grandma was a genius at just about anything artistic.  Her beautiful paintings hung on every wall of the house, as well as ours.   Although she was, in my opinion, a better painter, Grandma loved pottery the best.  I on the other hand could not quite understand the attraction.  It looked far too messy.  

        I grabbed the clay and squeeeeezed.  I squeezed it the other way and then mashed it hard onto the table.  It reminded me of making homemade biscuits.  All I needed was the biscuit cutter and a pan.  If I only had a cutter for a pitcher - “Grandma, will you help me.  I can’t do it.”  I watched as she lifted her hands from the clay that she had been working with and it was already taking shape.  “Mine won’t do that.  It’s not as good as yours.”

        “Yes honey.  It is just like yours,” she said looking at me sympathetically.  “When you look at this clay all you are seeing is its present form.  I, however, can see what it is supposed to be.”  She held the hunk of clay up in the air and looked at it as if she saw something hidden and beautiful.  “The pitcher you are making is here inside of this clay right now.  Just chip away at all of the bad pieces that are surrounding and sticking to it.  Take your time and work on one section at a time and you will eventually see it true shape shining through.”

        I reluctantly took the clay and began to form it into an oblong ball that was large enough to contain a pitcher.  Starting at the bottom I began to pull and scrape off the clay until I had cleaned it away from the base of the pitcher.  The more I cleaned it the easier I could see that truly there was a pitcher hiding inside the clay.  Since I knew what I wanted it to look like, I just kept rubbing and scraping until it was perfect.  “Grandma, Grandma look what I did.” 

        Grandma looked over at my somewhat lopsided pot and smiled as if it were the most beautiful thing she had ever seen.  “How wonderful” she said.  “You knew what that old lump of clay’s true and perfect form should be and you brought it out.”

        “Guess what?” Grandma said.  “You and I are like this pitcher used to be - an old lump of clay.  God knows what we are supposed to be and what it will take to make us perfect.  After we became Christians and decided to let God work His perfect Will in our lives, He began to chip and clean away all of the bad stuff that clings to us such as our old nasty habits.” 

        Grandma set my pitcher down on the table and went back to work with her own creation.  Even though her pitcher was nearly finished and looked ever so beautiful, she continued to make adjustments.  As she kept working she said, “The Bible says that God will always continue to do His good work in our lives.  He will not abandon or forsake us but will work to make us perfect for as long as we live.”

        Then Grandma turned to look at me with an expression of deep concern and eyes that were full of love.  “Always trust God with your life and let Him make you as perfect as He knows you can be.  Accept His love and forgiveness and then watch as your life begins to emerge into its true and perfect form.”

        After about an hour my pitcher was finally finished and I was so proud of it.  Grandma helped me glaze it and then we put both of them into the kiln to bake.  “Grandma, it’s hard to believe that I could make something so beautiful out of something so ugly.”

        Grandma closed the door on the kiln and then adjusted the temperature.  She turned to me with a broad grin on her face and said “God does that everyday.  My life was an ugly rotten mess but He saved me from all of that many years ago when I was young.”

        “You were rotten Grandma?” I said playfully and then laughed.  “You don’t seem too rotten now.”

        Grandma laughed and gave me a big hug.  “Come on.  Let’s go have some cookies and milk.  What do you say?”

        “Yeah” I said as we walked toward the kitchen from the workshop.  “That sure would be the perfect thing to do.”

Your Decision to Receive Christ as Your Savior:

Confess to God that you are a sinner.  Believe that the Lord Jesus Christ died for your sins on the cross and was raised for your justification.  Receive and Confess Him as your personal Savior.   

Assurance As a Believer:

That if thou shalt confess with thy mouth the Lord Jesus and shalt believe in thine heart that God hath raised him from the dead, thou shalt be saved (Romans 10:9).

© 1998 G. R. Workman