The point of me


I’ve been thinking a lot about the metaphor of God as a potter lately.

I have this weird (and obviously human) picture of God in my head: sitting there before the foundation of the world, with this piece of clay that would be me.

I can imagine him making me, my heart, mind, soul and strength with joy and intention.

I can imagine Him planning all my days, and making my clay have the perfect indentations to fit to the life He was making for me.

quote for clay

I want to know if I was prepared for marriage or for specific ministry opportunities.  But the Bible tells me all that I need to know about His plans for me: He made me to know the riches of His glory.

Every indentation, every dent, every skill and strength and detail of every day was written into my life to that end: knowing Him.

Not ‘knowing Him’ like knowing true things about Him. Romans 1 says that everyone knows true things about God.  I’m made for something different. I’m made with the purpose of  treasuring Him, worshipping Him; to enjoy and delight in the glory of who He is.

And so today, I’m thinking.

I’m thinking about one of the hardest days of my life. I had just encountered deep and dark sin that I was confident would never be a part of my story, especially not after Jesus came into it.

I remember the black despair that closed in that day; the desperate defeat that made me grasp for any hope that would stop the pain, even ending my life.

I remember there, on the floor of that night, meeting the Gospel as a different kind of good news.  Not like, sweet and cuddly good news, but like the only hope for my life.

And I am thinking today of God, before the foundation of the world – writing that chapter into my clay, thinning out that very area of weakness so it would crumble and I would get to know the riches of the glory of His grace.  He loved me too much to leave me with a dry and academic understanding of the Gospel.  He wanted it to taste like life to me.

I’m thinking about the two weeks I spent two summers ago, saying goodbye to my father, watching him slip away in front of me.  I remember the way God’s sovereignty hardened and firmed under my feet while everything else slipped away.

And today I am imagining God, before the foundation of the world, with a slight sad smile in His heart, writing that chapter with all the tears and all the pain because He had something for me that I could never get any other way: Him.

We all know that God is a good father.  We all know that He loves us.

But because my story is written the way it is I have been forced to wrestle in deep places in my soul with the question: is He father enough?

And the answer resonates back.  Yes.  He is a father who will spare nothing – even His Son – to prove His love.  He is a father who will never fail, never forsake, never leave.

I love this God.  I treasure Him.  Because I was prepared before the foundation of the world for just that purpose.  

And He has written every thread of my story to move me to that end.

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