THE POTTER

            Ancient fingers move through piles of dust as water fills each molecule solidifying the parts. The mass begins to form, yet not fully. What did not exist now takes shape as His hands knead the ruddy clay. No words are spoken as the thickening silt emerges as the Master’s piece.  All at once the sound of the potter’s wheel begins to spin from out of the silence. Such magnificence, such brilliance by the One whose hands flung a million stars and spun the universe into place; for as He knows Himself so shall He be known, for what He creates that day He makes in the image of IAM.  After all, He is the Potter.

            He pulls the mud now brim with life and holds it in His hands. He stops the wheel placing the thickening mass gently upon the stone from which the perfection of His love shall rise. A billion eyes watch in awe. And though they have seen Him work a trillion times before, this time would be like no other that has ever been or any that would follow. They are His witnesses, nothing more, nothing less, for they too were formed from His boundless mind, though not the same, yet His nonetheless. His hands are old yet young, with no beginning and no end, perfect yet worn they are His tools and He is their guide. For He is the Potter!

            Slowly the wheel picks up speed; not too fast, not too slow, and as only it should be, the Potter becomes one with the clay as His masterpiece takes form from the shapeless mass. The speed of His wheel intensifies as does the precision of each touch; pushing here, pulling there, His Divine mind creating eternal lines. With just enough pressure the image emerges from that which was formless and void. As His fingers are all covered with the excess of His brilliance, definition becomes life and that life will become hope. His furrowed brow studies each detail, those hidden and those not; line upon line until with each line He is satisfied. For it pleases Him fully to be fully known as He infuses Himself within the marrow of the form. He is the Potter!

            All stood in silence and watched as He looked upon what He had made and declared, "It is good!" Then with the greatest pleasure and purest joy He inhaled the wind and breathed out into that which had no breath the Breath of Life as all He made in wonder gazed, knowing what He had done. In that moment of awakening, as the clay began to rise, the Potter leaned forward and looked deep into its eyes... and as the mirror reflects like, what happened next was known long ago as He saw Himself and called him, "son!” All creation bowed before the One Who formed from the dust of the ground the one He now calls His own; and it was known in an instant what had finally begun. For He is the Potter and we are the clay that He formed with His hands in His image that day. He is the Potter and we are the clay!

© 2015 Steven Bliss

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