Find a quiet time and place to pray... take a few deep breaths... be still... and know that God is near...
A word to reflect on:
You, Lord, are our father;
we are the clay and you our potter:
we are all the work of your hand.
It's a beautiful image, Lord,
but I'm not sure I'm all that comfortable with it...
I'm not sure I want to be clay in someone's hands
-- even if those hands are yours...
I'm not sure I'm altogether happy
with how you've shaped me and my life so far...
I'm tired of spinning on your potter's wheel
until I'm so dizzy I can't stand up, see straight or find my way...
I'm not even sure what you're trying to make of me,
what you want me to be,
what you have in mind for me to become
when finally I'm the person you're shaping me to be...
I have big ideas, Lord,
big dreams of how you ought to shape me,
what you should make of me,
what I want you to make of the clay that I am...
And often, too often, I look at the clay of my life
and wonder if you know what you're doing, Lord.
Or I ask,
"Is it my fault? Am I playing my own potter?
Is this misshapen, flawed vessel of my being
all my own mistake?"
Yes, sometimes, I meddle and mess things up and fail to see:
how the potter's hands are so much surer than my own;
that you know when to slow
and when to quicken the speed of the wheel;
that you know what gentle pressure to apply
to form and shape the clay of my life as would have it be...
Your hands are bigger and stronger than all the clay I have,
all the clay I am,
and I often feel, as they say, like putty in your hands...
But you are the artist, the sculptor, the potter who knows how to turn,
how to work the wheel, the clay, the ways I walk
and make of it all the person you call me to be...
You are a fine artist, a good father,
and you would do nothing to harm the person
you're creating me to be...
Make me as patient as your potter's hands
in my waiting, in my prayer...
Help feel know how gently your hands and fingers move
in shaping my life...
Remind me, Lord, that you will never treat me roughly
and that when others do - your gentle hands are holding,
and shaping the person I'm becoming...
You, Lord, are our father;
we are the clay and you our potter:
we are all the work of your hand.
but I'm not sure I'm all that comfortable with it...
I'm not sure I want to be clay in someone's hands
-- even if those hands are yours...
I'm not sure I'm altogether happy
with how you've shaped me and my life so far...
I'm tired of spinning on your potter's wheel
until I'm so dizzy I can't stand up, see straight or find my way...
I'm not even sure what you're trying to make of me,
what you want me to be,
what you have in mind for me to become
when finally I'm the person you're shaping me to be...
I have big ideas, Lord,
big dreams of how you ought to shape me,
what you should make of me,
what I want you to make of the clay that I am...
And often, too often, I look at the clay of my life
and wonder if you know what you're doing, Lord.
Or I ask,
"Is it my fault? Am I playing my own potter?
Is this misshapen, flawed vessel of my being
all my own mistake?"
Yes, sometimes, I meddle and mess things up and fail to see:
how the potter's hands are so much surer than my own;
that you know when to slow
and when to quicken the speed of the wheel;
that you know what gentle pressure to apply
to form and shape the clay of my life as would have it be...
Your hands are bigger and stronger than all the clay I have,
all the clay I am,
and I often feel, as they say, like putty in your hands...
But you are the artist, the sculptor, the potter who knows how to turn,
how to work the wheel, the clay, the ways I walk
and make of it all the person you call me to be...
You are a fine artist, a good father,
and you would do nothing to harm the person
you're creating me to be...
Make me as patient as your potter's hands
in my waiting, in my prayer...
Help feel know how gently your hands and fingers move
in shaping my life...
Remind me, Lord, that you will never treat me roughly
and that when others do - your gentle hands are holding,
and shaping the person I'm becoming...
You, Lord, are our father;
we are the clay and you our potter:
we are all the work of your hand.
Lord, help me find in my unfinished self
the goodness and beauty you already see in me,
your work-in-progress...
Help me feel in your hands the way you move me
from chaos to order, from sin to grace,
from confusion to understanding, from fear to acceptance,
from unidentifiable formlessness to the person
you have called me to be since before all time...
Slow the wheel, Lord, and help me catch my breath
in this quiet time of prayer...
Let me be the clay from which you'll sculpt a person
who longs to love and be loved and to give you praise
Help me to trust the wheel on which I spin
and the hands that hold and shape me...
Help me know that as near as the potter to the clay,
so near are you to me and like the clay,
my life and peace are always the work of your hands...
To ponder and pray over...
Am I content to be like clay in the Lord's hands?
Do I trust that he is shaping me to be the person he calls me to be?
What will I ask of the Lord today?
From this prayer time, what word or phrase will I keep with me
to carry through the rest of my day?
From this prayer time, what word or phrase will I keep with me
to carry through the rest of my day?
(After you spend some time with these questions,
pray the reflection above one more time...)
Here are some tips for praying 10 minutes a day. If you find these daily prayer reminders helpful, please let me know - and share them with others. You'll find an archive of these daily posts here.
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