“Woe to those who quarrel with their Maker. Does a clay pot argue with its maker? Does the clay dispute with the one who shapes it, saying, ‘Stop, you’re doing it wrong!’ Does the pot exclaim, ‘How clumsy can you be?’” Isaiah 45:9
Heavenly Father, even your “Woes” are gifts of grace, for they warn me of the foolishness of my reasoning, the limitations of my perspective, and the self-centeredness of my musings. I see myself in this pottery parable. At times I wish you’d simply do things my way on my schedule.
You would fix people I want “fixed.” You would bring judgment upon those I believe deserve it. You’d alleviate the sufferings of my friends you seem to be ignoring. You would bring to yourself, or “take out,” any politician that angers me or doesn’t support my dreams for society. You would fund my favorite ministries and shut others down. You would keep my wife, kids, and grandkids from heartache and more suffering this side of heaven. You would send Jesus back before the next election.
Alas, Father, the most obvious pronouns in my “I-want-to-program-Abba” musing are “I, me, and my.” Some of the things on my “sovereignty-wish-list” are caring—but others, not so much so. Hallelujah, I can rest today and every day knowing you are the only Potter with loving, mighty, merciful hands. Your heart is bigger than the cosmos, your wisdom is greater than our capacity to understand, and your timetable makes Swiss precision seem like laissez-faire slothfulness.
You have set a Day when you will put all things right and make all things new and beautiful. Thank you. Until that Day, give me patience, increase my gentleness, supersize my mercy, and deepen my trust. Fill me to overflowing with your grace and hope, and grant me quick repentances when I carp, whine, stew about the way you do your ways. So Very Amen.
