You call me Your piece of clay. I am told in moments of difficulty that through it You are moulding me into something beautiful. But, do You have to? It's painful, uncomfortable and quite truly, it feels like I'm bearing a lot of the pain and pressure...not You.

Then, I came across the image below. I imagined what Your hands would look like as Your moulding me. Without a doubt, with all the messiness and stubbornness I bring, Your hands, face and torso are covered in my rejection of You; I'm the most disfigured of pots ever found.

Yours hands are firm, strong and most importantly, covered in everything that I am; from my ‘Sunday School approved’ moments to my most shameful and sinful characteristics.

And yet, while looking at the photograph, who can discern if Your hands are even the clay or are real with how invested You are in me.

This reminded me of Your incarnation - You humbled Yourself from Your heavenly throne to be subject to the brokenness of this world, endure temptation, pain and abandonment; struggles which aren't unfamiliar to us. You came so that we may be one, to be victorious together.

The Son of God became a man to enable men to become sons of God.- C.S. Lewis

I pray I don't become so spiritually distant from You that my clay is too soft to be moulded, yet also not being too unrepentant in my sin that I refuse to be moved. May I readily hear Your direction, and together, may we work in union to create what you had planned for me all along.

“But now, O Lord, you are our Father;
we are the clay, and you are our potter;
we are all the work of your hand." (Isaiah 64:8)