“Woe to those who quarrel with their Maker,
those who are nothing but potsherds among the potsherds on the ground. Does the clay say to the potter, ‘What are you making?’ Does your work say, ‘The potter has no hands’? Isaiah 45:9
Heavenly Father, even when you say “Woe” to us, it is a gift of grace—a kiss from heaven. For you know what we don’t know, love like we can’t understand, and are working behind the scenes in ways that will dazzle us one Day.
Foolishly, there are days we wish we could borrow your sovereignty for 15 minutes. We’d click our fingers and take out this global virus, along with certain world leaders deserving early retirement.
We’d prosper our investments, and eliminate racism and looting. We’d move our most aggravating neighbors and co-workers out of state, and shut down human trafficking. We’d make sure our kids are financially secure and never suffer, we’d eliminate cancer and Alzheimer’s. Alas, Father, we’re such a mix of godly desires and self-serving agendas.
We are fellow potsherds among potsherds—mere modeling clay in your big, loving, mighty Potter-hands. We need the Gospel every day and every hour. Your heart is bigger than the universe, and your ways are perfect (even when we don’t like them). Your timetable is impeccable (even though we whine about it). How foolish we are to quarrel with our Maker. Redeemer, and Father.
There is a Day coming when you will put all things right, and make all things new and beautiful. Until that Day, grant us patience and deepen our trust, supersize our mercy and increase our kindness. Father grant us quick repentances when we vex and carp about the way you do your job. So very Amen we pray, in Jesus’ mighty and merciful name.
