“I Am . . .The Potter.  You are the clay.”  Jeremiah 18:1-6

“In prayer we journey forward to our origin.  We close our eyes in prayer and open them to the pristine moment of creation.  We open our eyes to find God, His hands still smeared with clay, hovering over us, breathing into us His own divine life, smiling to see in us a reflection of Himself.   James Finley

Father’s Day is a reminder of the miracle of creation.  It is an opportunity to revel in the reminder of what it means to have someone who is a reflection not only of oneself, but more importantly the divine self.  Shaping and molding a child requires loving patience and artful prayer.  When raising children one does their best, and prays for the rest.

There it is again; Prayer.

Prayer is what I Am doing. 

Read that carefully.  It’s not saying what you might think that it is saying. 

Prayer is usually seen primarily as an activity that one is required to perform; asking, seeking, demanding, desiring, dictating, or some such thing.  It is perceived as an activity of ours which we pursue in relation to God .  We are the ones doing the moving, and God is seen as the passive participant that needs to be prompted to respond.

But I don’t think that’s the way it works.  Prayer is what I Am—the GREAT I Am—is doing.  I Am is what God calls Himself when responding to Moses.  I Am is how Jesus refers to Himself in the Gospel of John.  So prayer is what I Am is doing on our behalf.  The picture that I find most helpful to illustrate this is that of the Potter. 

Prior to Covid I decided to pursue the practice of pottery. That’s what it is, a practice.  Like prayer, I’m not sure that anyone ever perfects it.  I was pleasantly surprised by what I discovered.  The process of taking clay and placing it on a spinning wheel, adding water and beginning to shape it into some form is meditative and mesmerizing!  One easily loses themselves in the moment.  The first step is to take hard clay and begin to soften it by pounding and kneading and separating it into a smaller, workable piece.  Then one pounds it somewhat forcefully onto the wheel, trying to get it as close as possible to the center.  The next step is to start the wheel spinning slowly while forming the clay into a symmetrical cone.  Keeping the clay moist with water is a must. But not too much, lest the clay become sloppy and impossible to form.  Gradually as the result of using one’s hands and fingers and thumbs, the shape begins to form.  It is a glorious process of transforming shapeless clay into a beautiful object.

You see where I’m going with this, I’m sure.  This is a metaphor both for parenting and for prayer.   We are the clay, God is the Father Potter.  In prayer God shapes us, slowly transforming us into the shape that we are intended to be.  This is done not only for our good, but for God’s good pleasure.  The process can seem to be jolting as we also feel at times as though life—or our Father–is being a bit to stringent and demanding. Perhaps perceiving it as handling us a bit too roughly as we are kneaded and molded into shape.  At times we feel as if we are on a spinning wheel, walking around in circles with no direction or purpose.  Frequently we might feel as if there are attacks being made on our very being, forcing us into a shape that we never desired or dreamed.  But in time, slowly, slowly ever so slowly, we are transformed.  It is the result of being children of The Father, clay in the hands of the Potter.  We have little, if anything to do with it, other than to respond.  And to know that this, all of this, is done in love. 

Consider this analogy of prayer to pottery, dear friend.

How has God as Father shaped you?

How is God as Potter still shaping and forming you?

How might you be resisting?

Look carefully at yourself and consider the transformation that has taken place in your life. What kind of beautiful vessel or piece of art do you see yourself as?

And consider how much pleasure your Father Potter takes in you; your creation and transformation.