Pastor Tom Johnson, November 29, 2020
I love the boldness of the prayer of the day: “Stir up your power, O Lord, and come!” During Advent we pray, “Come, Lord Jesus!” Our reading from Isaiah also begins: “O that you would tear open the heavens and come down!” In Isaiah, it is a prayer for God to leave his heavenly throne, rip a whole in the universe, step out of his timeless and eternal domain, enter into our world and time, and restore all that has been lost by war, injustice, and famine. I can’t help but think of our current global crisis. So many lives have been lost. So many jobs have been lost. There is so much conflict in our neighborhoods, between local, state, and national politicians, and between nations. There is real hunger and food insecurity in our nation and world. We have a global pandemic still surging. Do we have the same boldness to pray? “God, do something for our world! Get off your heavenly throne, come down, put terror into our enemies, fix what is broken, and bring your healing and peace.”
As Isaiah’s prayer continues, he begins to come to his senses. It’s a good example of how prayer can also be contemplative. He meditates on God’s Word. He begins to remember his own nature—and all of human nature. We are the ones that have messed everything up. We want God to fix what we have broken. Isaiah paints an image of our sin: we are all wearing blood-stained, filth-covered clothing because of our sin. Our sin is not just what we do or fail to do. Our sin is like a hot, dry wind that causes our lives to fade, wither, and get blown away—like all the leaves we see at this time of year, scattered all around. Our transgressions make us unworthy
But then he remembers God’s character. He remembers that God has torn open the heavens and reached his mighty hand through to transform this world. But they are not hands grasping for mountains and waging war. They are the hands of the Potter. His hands are covered with the dust of the earth and smeared with wet clay. “Yet, O Lord,” Isaiah prayerfully recalls, “you are our Father; we are the clay, and you are our potter; we are all the work of your hand.” God took this formless void, spun it on its axis, and began to run his creative hands deep within its core to the outer rim. His hands formed the sea and the dry land. His hands dug out canyons and built mountains. The Potter’s hands scooped clay out of the ground and formed Adam into his likeness. He breathed the Spirit of life into his nostrils and he became a living being. He was put in the garden which the Potter made. The fruit trees and vegetable plants were planted and potted into his nutritious soil. “You are our Father,” the clay remembers. In our prayers we bring to mind our true relationship with God. He is the one who made us and not we ourselves. He is our Creator first made by his potter’s hands.
Last week, I saw a young potter in the window in my neighborhood. He has older-designed wheel that does not require electricity. He can spins the wheel at his own rhythm or slower speed by his foot-powered device. The potter throws down a formless chunk of clay into the middle of the stone wheel. He pedals it into motion. His arms are covered with dust from his elbows down to his wrists and hands. As the clay spins, his fingertips are darken by the wet clay. He dips his fingers into muddy water. The tips of his fingers lovingly and artistically mold the clay from the bottom up, then from the top down. He expands the center and then chisels the excess clay off with his fingers like blades. The passion and pride is writ large on the potters face. The shapeless heap of earth becomes a useful vessel—a vase with perfect curves to display an array of flowers, a perfectly round plate to enjoy the bounty of the earth, a beautifully useful mug to share a hot drink and fellowship with a friend or loved one.
And so the prophet’s prayer concludes, “We are the clay. And you are our potter. We are all the work of your hand.” The change we long for has not yet come with sensational displays in the skies and the quaking of the mountains. It comes through God molding and shaping us into his instruments and vessels. Just as in the Lord’s first coming. He did not come in great cosmic displays but came into the flesh—out of the heart of the same earth you and I are made. He grew in stature before God and people, formed perfectly into the image of God.
When Jesus comes back, he will crash through and roll back the heavens as one rolls back a scroll and restore all creation. But in the meantime, our prayers lead us back to what God has done and to what he is doing now. He restores through us. He is our Father. He is the potter. He has taken us out of formless void. He spins us through time at his own rhythms. With pride and joy, he lovingly runs his fingers through the core of our being. We will never be the same. Each vessel is unique—each of us a one-of-a-kind example of the Potter’s mastery, creativity, and love...each of us fearfully and wonderfully made. He dips his hands in baptismal waters. His fingers purge and flake off the imperfections and flaws by the water and the Spirit. He claims us as his children and himself as our Father. He stirs up his power and comes. He tears the heavens open to lovingly mold and shape us into the people of God he wants us to be. We are not only recipients of the Potter’s loving creation. We are also vessels for his glory and the restoration for which we have prayed.
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