I have been praying recently that the Spirit would inspire my next blog post, instead of me trying to randomly select a topic and run with it, and have deeper desires to impress people. I don’t want to write to impress anyone.
And He answered.
Since I moved home, my dad and I have started getting dinner every Wednesday evening and last night he said he had some work for me to help him with after we finished dinner. To give a brief explanation of who my dad is, he is a handy-man, an artist, a creator, a carpenter, and so when he means he has work for me to do it means that I will be doing something with wood.
Last night’s work included helping him sand cedar hearts that he cuts and then burning messages into them after they are sanded. I was the sander. So taking a raw, kind of marred looking cedar heart, with rough edges and splintery sides, my job was to make it round and smooth, as if it had no defect. Helping it become perfect.
So, I took the first heart into my hands, switched on the sander and got to work molding the rough exterior. As the minutes passed, for whatever reason, I began to pray about the World Race and fundraising, “Daddy, Daddy, Daddy (what I’ve started referring to God as lately)….be with me, help me with the money, be with me me, help me, help me…” and I pressed the heart harder against the sander, feeling my hands, arms, and shoulders shake with determination to make this thing look beautiful.
The Creator’s raw design, the heart, ready to be molded and rounded and shaped into a beautifully worked creation was me. His hands took me, pressing me into the sander softly and gently at first, what I envision to be me at the beginning of my walk with Him in 2008. And He works and works the outer edges, just trying to get all of the rough lines removed, and then comes the face of the heart….the hardest part to mold. He presses deeply into the face against the sander (my stubborn will and hardened heart by difficulty or strife, my doubts and questions), but He gently moves it side to side, unrelenting, knowing what the end result will look like.
“I’m doing this for YOUR best interest, Kiersten,” He whispers as he presses harder, “And it will hurt at times, and it will feel like it will be unending, but I AM the Potter and YOU are MY creation, MY design, MY love, and I KNOW what you need.”
Moving back and forth, around the sides, my whole body covered in saw dust, my hands cramping from holding it so tightly, then, I just smile. After putting the finishing touches on the heart I held the heart out in front of me, seeing what I had done. It was good.
My God is doing the same work on me. He's holding me, modling me, taking out what is not of Him, perfecting His creation as HE sees fit, and that's a good thing.
I imagine and I hope that He is holding me as He sands down all the parts of my heart, and after He is finished, at the end of my time here on Earth, He will smile, holding me in front of Him and say, "It is beautiful, good, and perfect."
