Gentle Sculptor

“And yet, O LORD, you are our Father.

We are the clay, and you are the potter.

We all are formed by your hand.”

Isaiah 64:8

She thought He would break her.  Certainly it would be easier for the Master Sculptor to snap off her arm or leg and remold her.  It would be faster she assumed, to make her into anything of much value.  The little clay sculpture braced for His return. Returning with a small bowl of water and a little towel, he sat on the workbench, ready to continue.

The sculpture noticed the sharp tools laid out on the table beside her and shuttered at the thought of the slicing and shaping soon to follow.  This will hurt.

The Sculptor smiled and began to hum.  He dipped his hands into the water and with his fingers began to shape her arm.  His humming lilted into singing with words so beautiful the little clay girl thought she might dance.

Soon all will see,

The beauty I’ve hidden in thee.

Dipping and smoothing, stretching and soothing, His hands moved to the melodies of his voice.  Soon the Sculptor had formed her eyes and her mouth.  She smiled. His gentle hands crafted her hair, and pointed her feet.  With her arms outstretched, she saw – I was made to dance. He sang again.

Every part of you was formed by Me,

Each step, a delicate decree

That I am the Potter

And you are the clay

The beauty that lies within

Has come to life with my gentle hand.

The Sculptor beamed with delight. Leaning down for the final step, He winked at her and blew a breath.

The little dancer blinked, then spun, overjoyed at what the power of gentleness had done.

    your gentleness has made me great. Psalm 18:35