It’s long, but I just really want to be as open as I can going into this. So here’s something that’s been rolling around in my head the last few days:
At Training Camp this story kept coming up. My Philosophy of Religion professor passed this out to our class one day this past semester. We were right in the middle of our discussion on the Problem of Evil in the world. We didn’t just talk about Christianity–we covered the whole spectrum of ideologies and beliefs as to why there is darkness in the world. However, one of the Christian-minded ideas revolved around the concept of God using evil as a means of teaching us, growing us, and stretching us. These are the 2 examples we were given to illustrate this idea:
The Teacup and the Potter
There was a couple who used to go to England to shop in a beautiful antique store. This particular trip was to celebrate their 25th wedding anniversary. They both liked antiques and pottery, and especially teacups. Spotting an exceptional cup, they asked, “May we see that? We’ve never seen a cup quite so beautiful.”
As the lady handed it to them, suddenly the teacup spoke, “You don’t understand,” it said, “I have not always been a teacup. There was a time when I was just a lump of red clay. The potter took me and rolled me, pounded and patted me over and over, and I yelled out, “Don’t do that. I don’t like it! Leave me alone!” but he only smiled, and gently said, “Not yet!”
Then WHAM! I was placed on a spinning wheel and suddenly I was spun around and around and around. “Stop it! I’m getting so dizzy! I’m going to be sick!” I screamed, but the potter only nodded and said quietly, “Not yet.” He spun me and poked and prodded and bent me out of shape to suit himself and then, he put me in the oven.
I never felt such heat. I yelled and knocked and pounded at the door. “Help! Get me out of here!” I could see him through the opening and I could read his lips as he shook his head from side to side.
“Not yet,” he smiled.
When I thought I couldn’t bear it another minute, the door opened. He carefully took me out and put me on the shelf, and I began to cool. Oh it felt so good! “Ah, this is much better,” I thought. But after I cooled, he picked me up and brushed and painted me all over. The fumes were horrible. I thought I would gag. “Oh please, stop it, stop it!” I cried. He only shook his head and said, “Not yet.”
Then suddenly he put me back in the oven. Only it was not like the first one. This was twice as hot and I just knew I would suffocate. I begged. I pleaded. I screamed. I cried. I was convinced I would never make it. I was ready to give up. Just then the door opened and he took me out and again placed me on the shelf, where I cooled and waited…and waited…wondering what he was going to do to me next?
An hour later he handed me a mirror and said, “Look at yourself.” And I did. I said, “That’s not me, that couldn’t be. It’s beautiful. I’m beautiful!” Quietly he spoke, “I want you to remember then, I know it hurt to be rolled and pounded and patted, but had I just left you alone, you’d have dried up. I know it made you dizzy to spin around on the wheel, but if I had stopped, you would have crumbled. I know it hurt and it was hot and disagreeable in the oven, but if I hadn’t put you there, you would have cracked. I know the fumes were bad when I brushed and painted you all over, but if I hadn’t done that, you never would have hardened. You would not have had any color in your life. If I hadn’t put you back in that second over, you wouldn’t have survived for long because the hardness would not have held. Now you are what I had in mind when I first began with you.”
The moral of this story is this: God knows what He’s doing in each of us. He is the potter, and we are his clay. He will mold us and expose us to just enough pressures of just the right kinds that we may be made into a flawless piece of work to fulfill His good, pleasing and perfect will.
So, when life seems hard, and you are being pounded and patted and pushed almost beyond endurance; when your world seems to be spinning out of control; when you feel like you are in a fiery furnace of trials; when life seems to “stink”, try this: Brew a cup of your favorite tea in your prettiest tea cup, sit down and think on this story and then, have a little talk with the Potter.
There was a group of women in a Bible study on the book of Malachi. As they were studying chapter 3, they came across verse 3 which says, “He will sit as a refiner and purifier of silver.” This verse puzzled the women and they wondered what this statement meant about the character and nature of God. One of the women offered to find out about the process of refining silver and get back to the group at their next Bible study.
That week this woman called up a silversmith and made an appointment to watch him work. She didn’t mention anything about the reason for her interest in silver beyond her curiosity about the process of refining silver. As she watched the silversmith, he held a piece of silver over the fire and let it heat up. He explained that in refining silver, one needed to hold the silver in the middle of the fire where the flames were hottest as to burn away all the impurities. The woman thought about God holding us in such a hot spot – then she thought again about the verse, that “He sits as a refiner and purifier of silver.”
She asked the silversmith if it was true that he had to sit there in front of the fire the whole time the silver was being refined. The man answered that yes, he not only had to sit there holding the silver, but he had to keep his eyes on the silver the entire time it was in the fire. If the silver was left even a moment too long in the flames, it would be destroyed.
The woman was silent for a moment. Then she asked the silversmith, “How do you know when the silver is fully refined?”
He smiled at her and answered, “Oh, that’s easy…when I see my image in it.”
I keep telling people about how everything I feel like I’ve learned over the last year has been preparation for this trip. Every time I look at what Zambia taught me, what my Impact camp taught me, what my beautiful Phi Lamb girls taught me, what my mentor taught me, even what my classes taught me, I see the Lord in it. I know what a gift that is and just laugh at each of these little revelations. I love that these 2 random stories from a class have not only allowed me to put so much of my past struggles into perspective, but have also allowed me to be vessel to speak truth to members of my new family. So, my quirky, amazingly attractive, filled-with-the-Spirit World Race family, I hope that these might speak to you in some way. Take heart that in EVERYTHING the Lord is working. He is in the joyful moments; He is in the moments we’re rolling on the floor laughing because our physical bodies can’t contain the power of the Spirit; He is in the moments we feel like we’ve made our Father proud. But He’s also in the moments we feel worthless, unloved, and good-for-nothing; The moments we feel abandoned, lost, confused, destroyed, broken, and hopeless. “And we KNOW that in ALL things God works for the GOOD of those who love him, who have been called according to HIS purpose.” (Romans 8:28) Every time we feel another crack in our foundation we should smile; every time we feel our foot slip we should find ourselves laughing; every time we feel beaten and bruised, lying on our faces, we should be singing His praise. Every burden we laid down at camp, every piece of luggage we let go of on that train platform, and every hole He plugged up made us more like His Son. We all talk about wanting to lose our lives and live for Christ. We profess our desire to be a reflection of Christ, the hands and feet of our Savior. And yet, when God answers our prayers, and starts molding us, starts up the fire underneath us, how often do we recognize it as a gift? I can’t speak for anyone but myself, and as hard as it is for me to admit, I know I whine and complain when my life seems to be falling apart and the crap hits the fan. I usually recognize it as God working, but not until way later after I’ve seen a glimpse of the end result. I want to see it in the beginning. I want to sit on the spinning wheel, shouting at the top of my lungs, thanking my Potter for loving me enough to remold me. I want to dance in the fire as He refines me, praising His name for choosing to do a mighty work in me.
Training camp was hard. I can’t ever explain everything that happened, the magnitude of healing that was achieved. But I know He’s not done yet. Not in me, and not in you. Honestly I don’t think He ever will be. But my prayer is that we recognize our refinement and call to mind that at the end of His work, we’ll reflect Him a little but more. And also that we’ll remember that He’s sitting right there by the fire, watching us, never glancing away, waiting for His perfect moment to pull us out of the heat. And that it is His hands that are pulling us and stretching us. He will never drop us or let us fly off the wheel. How blessed are we that we are even touched by the hands of God!
The Creator of the universe has chosen us to proclaim His name to the ends of earth. We might not be at camp anymore, but He’s still teaching all of us every day. Continue to let Him pry the handles of the bags you’ve been burdened by out of your weak hands. Let Him hold you in His hands and prod and poke you into a shape that is reminiscent of Him. Feel the heat of the flame He lit beneath you at camp while the flames flicker across you, purifying you. Surrender and become what He created you to be: a reflection of Him and His glory.
