i am the clay.

it seems that most of my theological thoughts don’t come during class these days. i mean, they do sometimes. but the moments of great clarity and inspiration and AH HA! moments seem to come with babies. specifically, when i’m rocking anna and ben, because we typically sing a hymn.  this week, i changed it up, because anna’s been a little fussy and maybe teething and maybe just tired of hearing me sing “come thou fount” and such.  and for some reason, i had “have thine own way, Lord” in my head.  i couldn’t remember all the verses, but i sang what i knew and hummed the melody, and looked up the rest later:

Have Thine own way, Lord! Have Thine own way!
Thou art the Potter, I am the clay.
Mold me and make me after Thy will,
While I am waiting, yielded and still.

Have Thine own way, Lord! Have Thine own way!
Search me and try me, Master, today!
Whiter than snow, Lord, wash me just now,
As in Thy presence humbly I bow.

Have Thine own way, Lord! Have Thine own way!
Wounded and weary, help me, I pray!
Power, all power, surely is Thine!
Touch me and heal me, Savior divine.

Have Thine own way, Lord! Have Thine own way!
Hold o’er my being absolute sway!
Fill with Thy Spirit ’till all shall see
Christ only, always, living in me.

the first and the last verse are probably the most inspiring and challenging and humbling for me.  they made me think of the potter in jeremiah 18, as he molds the clay, and the picture of God molding us and making us into his image, refined by fire.

it’s funny that my “up there” Bible focused thoughts collided with real life this week, which is, after all, what usually happens.  about two months ago, i turned 24.  and i made this cool list of things i wanted for my birthday–one of which was a bookshelf. a real one, not an imaginary one.  i talked about wanting a bookshelf for weeks, but i didn’t want to just go and buy a new one from Target or Pottery Barn. i wanted a used, wooden bookshelf. with character.  mary and i went yardsaling over spring break and found the perfect bookshelf in a tiny house in homewood for ten bucks, and we brought it back to casa de splawn, where it’s been painted and worked on for the last month.

wayne set me up to paint one saturday, and gave me the mustard yellow paint, and showed me the ropes, and told me that if there were any paint drips, well–i could just consider them memories. by the end of the day, i had lots of drips (memories!), and lots of things that i probably didn’t do right.  wayne went back over the bookshelf and it looked incredible when i saw it again–then, a storm knocked it over and chipped some of the paint off, so we retouched it again.  i saw the finished product wednesday night, and it looks fantastic.

so here’s the thing.  my life isn’t perfect. i’ve made a lot of mistakes–some “drips” if you will, and they’ll be memories, of how i’ve messed up and i’m just not perfect.  and i’ve been knocked around a bit in some figurative storms. things haven’t always worked out the way i’ve hoped, or dreamed.  but it’s wonderful to know that God, in the midst of all of my craziness and imperfections, is perfect, and in control, and making beautiful things out of the dust of my life, and the mess of myself, for his glory.  that he uses the good, and the bad–the storms, and the struggles, and the misfortune–to shape me and make me who i am.  and that the end result will hopefully be a beautiful picture of Christ in me.

so at the end of the day, in the midst of the difficult time of waiting and being still and the painful process of God pruning and molding–i have to remind myself that it’s worth it in the end. that i’m only the apprentice painter. and that the finished product [sanctification] will be well worth it.

One response to “i am the clay.

  1. I know all to well about the pruning and molding process, Amy. I find that during those times is when I learn how to be a better specimen to mold. It is like reading a good novel. In order to turn the page, we must pick ourselves up to find out what happens next.

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