“Woe to those who quarrel with their Maker, those who are nothing but potsherds among the potsherds on the ground. Does the clay say to the potter, ‘What are you making?’ Does your work say, ‘The potter has no hands’? Isaiah 45:9 (NIV)
Heavenly Father, even your “Woe’s” are gifts of grace, for they warn us of the foolishness of out reasoning, the limitations of our perspective, and the self-centeredness of our musings.
Some days we wish we could be you for fifteen minutes. That’d give us a chance to fix people that need fixing, bring judgment upon those who’ve got it coming, alleviate the sufferings of friends whose pain is overwhelming, get even with people who’ve hurt us the deepest and betrayed us the most, win the lottery, put an end to human trafficking and pornography; rid the world of annoying politicians, terror mongers, and fake-anything.
Alas, Father, we’re such a mix of good desires and broken agendas. We look at our lists and realize how much we need the gospel—every day and every hour. You, the quintessential Potter, have hands—big and loving, mighty and merciful ones. And not only that, you have a heart bigger than the universe, wisdom beyond all imaginings, and a timetable that makes Swiss precision seem like laissez-faire laziness.
There IS a Day coming when you will put all things right and make all things new. Give us patience, increase our gentleness; supersize our mercy; deepen our trust; fill us to overflowing with your grace and hope. And grant us quick repentances when we whine about the way you do your job. So very Amen we pray, in Jesus’ mighty and merciful name.