There laid the lump of clay
Formless and shapeless with no use
To its right stood vessels made
To its left stood the unyielding ones
Filled with hate and resentment
At another corner laid the unfinished pottery
Then came the potter
Bent in the dust
Forming the lump of clay
Unyielding it was
Scared of the fire
The potter continues relentlessly
Kneading its grooves, forming its dimples
Offering moisture, Graciously free
Never shifting his gaze from it.
Useful!! People exclaimed
The vessel of clay stood
For all to admire
So useful it was, many laid coveted it
It withstood the fire, the water
The numerous trimmings and prunings
And there it stood useful in its Master’s hand
A proud workmanship of the Father
Exuding, Radiating Glory.
What type of clay are you in the Potter’s hand?
Are you a yielding clay or an unyielding one?
“What sorrow awaits those who argue with their Creator.
Does a clay pot argue with its maker?
Does the clay dispute with the one who shapes it, saying,
‘Stop, you’re doing it wrong!’
Does the pot exclaim,
‘How clumsy can you be?’
10 How terrible it would be if a newborn baby said to its father,
‘Why was I born?’
or if it said to its mother,
‘Why did you make me this way?’”
11 This is what the Lord says—
the Holy One of Israel and your Creator:
“Do you question what I do for my children?
Do you give me orders about the work of my hands?
12 I am the one who made the earth
and created people to live on it.
With my hands I stretched out the heavens.
All the stars are at my command.