Beauty Forged In Flames
“Come to me now and lay Your hands over me. Will You find me tonight, say it will be alright and I shall believe.” – Bill Bottrell / Sheryl Crow, I Shall Believe
Hello Dear Friend,
Picture a man warming his hands with a mug full of coffee as he looks out his kitchen window at the vast view lying before him. It’s the beauty of the dawn that wakes him not the caffeine as he looks at the array of vibrant colors and thinks: He’s done it again. He’s created another masterpiece. He looks down at his mug and the well weathered hands that cradle it thinking how both creations have seen better days.
Best get to it then, he thinks as he rinses out the bit of coffee that remains and carefully sets the mug on the dish drainer over the sink. A smile creeps across his face revealing the wrinkles of an old man as his memories carry him back to when he made that old piece of pottery – the treasured ceramic being one of his first completed creations as a young potter who was learning and perfecting his craft. Although he still has a hard time believing it, the old craftsman is now considered to be a master of his trade. Throughout the years he’s drank from the same mug every morning so as to remind himself of where he came from and how he started from nothing.
Entering his studio he hums softly as he takes his seat on the three legged stool. It’s true, his chosen throne isn’t the most comfortable of seating but it’s familiar and sits there waiting to welcome him each morning like an old friend. He grabs a rather generous amount of clay and throws it onto his wheel. Tirelessly his hands begin moving to mold and shape the clay forming it into something that will eventually and undoubtedly be exquisite in time.
The relationship between the Potter and His clay
Now imagine God at the potter's wheel. Just like a lump of clay takes on a new form when molded and shaped by a potter, God carefully takes you and me into His mighty hands. You and I are lovingly being held by Him as He transforms us into a new creation.
At times there's screaming coming from my lips as I'm sure that there is from yours. In those times my words sail through the air spewing out at Him during, what I like to call, growing spurts as my frustrated complaints explain to Him all of my hardships like He's a stranger to them: You’ve slammed me onto a hard, spinning wheel! I’m dizzy. I’m confused. I'm frustrated and I don’t understand! Why are You just standing there watching me as I’m flying helplessly around and out of control? Why would You put me under all this pressure? Why am I being squashed and squeezed, poked and stretched to the point where I feel like I'm being ripped apart – and to top it all off, I know that fire lies in the near distant future. I know that You’re about to throw me into the flames. Why? For what?
I'm only able to hear His response after I quiet my emotional roars: My child, I didn’t slam you. I carefully threw you into the exact position I intended. Trust that I have you in just the right spot. My hands are caressing you and as you spin round and round I’m smoothing out the imperfections. I’m lovingly holding you as the pressure from My hands are molding you into My perfect creation. It’s true. Fire is coming, you’re right about that. The fire you will walk through is necessary for what I have planned and you will be forged in the flames. The heat is coming but trust Me dear one, the fire you are about to face you will endure. And I promise in the end it will only enhance your beauty.
Found broken and tarnished
“Broken in two, I know You’re on to me. That I only come home when I'm so all alone but I do believe.” – Bill Bottrell / Sheryl Crow, I Shall Believe
The old potter quickly becomes lost in his work. The time passes and in a blink of an eye day has turned to night or so it feels, as the potter finally calls it quits and gives the chain attached to the overhead light a slight pull to shut it off. He cleans himself up and pulls his heavy coat over his tired shoulders wrapping himself up as he ventures out into the cold. A shiver quickly travels down his spine as he pops up the coat collar to keep his neck warm and begins walking towards the village for some supper.
Fish and chips sound pretty good to him as he crosses into the village on his way to the old tavern. His mouth is watering at the thought of the savory food that awaits him as he passes a newly abandoned storefront. Pausing for a moment to look up at the familiar store sign before his eyes travel downward taking a quick glance into the now empty windows of the small shop. As he peers into the darkened windows he remembers the art that used to once hang on the walls. Although he’d only had a handful of conversations with the shop owner he can still remember her kindness and kindred spirit. He walks on as a heavy sigh escapes him: Such a talented young artist. It’s a shame she was forced to close her doors so quickly.
Another hour or two passes and it’s late when the old man decides it’s time for him to head home. He bundles himself up and sets out for his journey up the hill to his little cottage that sits just outside of the village border.
He’s cold, tired and the joints in his fingers hurt as he passes the artist’s shop again. This time he notices a pile discarded on the stoop in front of the shop door waiting to be collected and disposed. The moonlight is reflecting off of something and the potter curiously stops to investigate what has captured the faint light. He’s surprised to discover that it’s a piece of his pottery that the young woman had bought off of him when she’d first arrived in the village. Now broken, forgotten and cast aside it lies half buried in the falling snow. He bends down to scoop up the fragments that were once an all too familiar piece that he had crafted long ago. He gently positions them into his arms and carries them home with him.
Into the night he toils away to fit the broken pieces together. Although his body aches from hunching over the table all night he presses on to repair what's broken. What keeps him going is knowing that when he has finished the ceramic will be stronger and more beautiful than before. He uses the Japanese art of Kintsugi (a process using lacquer and gold) to forge the pieces together as he continues his task well into the night.
Beauty for the broken and healing from the pain.
“Open the door and show me Your face tonight. I know it’s true, no one heals me like You and You hold the key.” – Bill Bottrell / Sheryl Crow, I Shall Believe
Just when we think we’ve been left behind – broken, hurt, empty, discarded, forgotten and unsure if we can ever be made whole again God takes hold of us. He grabs those pieces that have fallen to the wayside. God, as the Master Craftsman, comes along and He scoops us up. He picks up all the pieces of our former life holding up the fragments and examining them in the light. He loving takes what has become our normal to create something beautiful, all the while saying: I’m not finished with you just yet. Hold on to Me. Believe in Me.
I love that God never allows pain without a purpose. He doesn't let us walk through hardships for no reason. He knows everything we face. He sees us in our past, in our present and He sees our future. He never stops loving us no matter how we react in each of those situations. His love never fails us. He holds us and in it all, He carries us through. He finds us even when we're hidden in the darkest shadows. He sees us beautifully broken and full of potential. Just as the old potter uses the Kintsugi technique to join the fragments together and give a new more refined aspect to his creation God, takes the pieces of our life and fashions us together to heal us and makes us whole and new.
Even when shattered He sees us as He created us – whole. He sees what He created us to be, holy and beautiful. With every loving movement of His hands He mends us and crafts us into this glorious and radiant design. He fabricates the pieces grabbing them one by one and He fashions them together making us stronger than ever before until what was once broken is now a golden seam shining brightly and highlighting our testimony.
With love,
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