I am His

My lips could feel the tiny crack on the rim of my favorite coffee mug this morning. As I drank the last sip, I could see the crack running all the way down the inside, and a chip on the outside as well. It was one of two handmade mugs given to me by my mother years ago; we shared a love of pottery. 

I don’t know why my mother loved pottery; I wish I had asked her. Maybe she told me years back, and I don’t remember. I would cherish that conversation were I able to remember it now. 

Just yesterday my husband had asked me which coffee cup was my favorite. 

Then as I opened my  morning devotion, I could feel God’s hand leading me, sense him smiling at me as I read my devotion about the potter and the clay. 

God was whispering his heart to me. He does that often- I’ll hear a message at church, read a devotion, have a conversation with a friend, see a post online. His word to me, spoken over and over. He doesn’t want me to miss it, to miss his truth.

Yet you, Lord, are our Father. We are the clay, you are the potter; we are all the work of your hand.  Isaiah 64:8

Each piece of pottery is unique, even if it’s part of a collection. My mug was handcrafted by a lady named Maggie. Her mind was inspired to create something beautiful and useful. There is a smooth dip on top of the handle designed specifically for your thumb. The colors are my favorite, yellow and blue. 

I get lost in the imagery Isaiah was inspired to write. I am the work of God’s hand? I am his masterpiece, designed with purpose and beauty? Can that really be the truth about me? It’s easy for me to see the imperfections, the cracks running through my heart, the chipped and broken places. 

In the quiet of the morning, what once was a gray lump of clay warms my hands, and I wonder about my own design and purpose. Am I truly a beautiful vessel in his hands? Does he find joy in me despite my flaws and brokenness? 

Of all the teachings of scripture, I struggle with this one most. Why is it easier for us to believe that Jesus multiplied bread and fish to feed thousands than it is to believe we are his beloved? It is rare to meet a woman who is confidently living life as a beautiful treasure of God. More often, I meet women who are walking in shame and insecurity. 

Yet, this morning as I hold this handmade cup in my hands, enjoying its beauty, I cannot escape the truth that my Father’s hands hold me. He calls me his, and if I’m a creation of the Master Potter, then I am beautiful and my life has purpose. His purpose. 

Is this not just as miraculous as the loaves and fish? The creator of the universe, the one who paints the sunset colors across the sky, who calls the stars by name created me. He chose each detail with purpose - the color of my eyes, the shape of my feet. Not only does he find pleasure in me, but he wants to fill me with his presence and use me for his holy purpose. 

As the clay, how can I argue with the potter? How can I question his design? Yet, I do. Everytime I focus on the cracks and chips, when I compare myself to the woman beside me, or believe I have nothing to contribute, I am denying the truth of who he made me to be. 

I am the work of his hand. He declares it so. (Isaiah 64:8)

I am fearfully and wonderfully made. His works are wonderful. (Psalm 139:14) 

I am God’s masterpiece. He created me anew in Christ Jesus, so I can do the good things he planned for me long ago.  (Ephesians 2:10)

You, whoever you are reading this today, are a beautiful creation, designed by your creator out of love for an amazing purpose. 

Let’s walk in this truth today.