Previous Challenge Entry (Level 2 – Intermediate)
Topic: Work (07/27/06)
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TITLE: The Work of His Hands | Previous Challenge Entry
By Betty Bowers
07/29/06 -
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A few days later, the potter carried the pot to a table just outside his front door, and placed it with the beautiful, perfect pots that stood there. They wore many colors and shapes, and were ready for purchase. People who came down the road stopped to look at the pots that had many uses. They always picked the most beautiful ones and went away happy with their purchases. A few stopped briefly to look at the crooked pot, but, of course, they didn’t buy it.
In the heat of the afternoon, an old lady hobbled to the potter’s shop, using a stout stick as a cane. Her back was painfully bent and her right arm was twisted. She stopped in front of the pottery table, breathing heavily. Her eyes scanned the beautiful pots that were left. The potter came through the door of his home and hailed the old woman.
“Sarah, it’s good to see you out today. How are you doing?”
“I’m fair to middlin’, Silas,” answered Sarah. “It’s a hot day, though.”
“It is. It sure is,” replied Silas. “Come over here, Sarah. Sit in the shade for a bit. I’ll bring you a drink of water.”
“Thank you, my friend,” Sarah breathed as she made her slow way to the proffered seat.
The old friends talked while Sarah slowly recovered from her hot walk. Finally, the old woman stood up and tottered to the pottery table. The potter followed her.
Sarah’s eyes moved over the pottery again, lingering long over one lovely one before moving on reluctantly. “I need a new jug, but it’s so hard to handle a heavy one with this old arm.”
The potter said nothing, but his hand gently nudged the crooked pot. “I have one here that’s bent. It’s free because I spoiled it, but I don’t suppose you’d be interested in that one.”
A cry came from the old woman’s mouth. Leaning against the table, she put out both hands for the pot.
“But, Silas, that’s just right for me. See, it doesn’t have to be tipped very far to pour. This one won’t hurt my arm. Oh, Silas, it’s perfect!”
The potter wore a gentle smile as he placed the pot in a bag for easy carrying.
“Why, I’m just glad that you found something that pleased you. Now you be careful going home, Sarah.”
Perfect, he mused. Yes, it’s the perfect pot.
“…we are the clay, and thou our potter; and we all are the work of thy hand.” (Isaiah 64:8, King James Version)
As the potter forms the clay to make perfect pots, so God makes us to be the perfect vessels for His use. Are some of us bent, or even broken? Are some of us less than beautiful shapes and colors? Are some designs hard to fathom? Of course, because the Potter has special uses for some of us. He may not even tell us what those purposes are, but in His plan, each of us has a destiny to fulfill—a purpose to carry out. In His plan, each one is perfect for a particular use, and the only way we won’t succeed is to fail to be used as He intended.
In today’s world, the beautiful people are the ones who get the attention. In our hearts, we have a yearning to be one of them, but what if our purpose requires us to be imperfect? What if our “pot” needs to be marred? Our work is to be what our Potter made us to be. Only then do our purpose and usefulness become our perfect work—the work of His hands.
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