“I went down to the potter’s house, and I saw him working at the wheel. But the pot he was shaping from the clay was marred in his hands; so the potter formed it into another pot, shaping it as seemed best to him” (Jeremiah 18:3-4).
You are the potter, Lord. I am just clay in your hands. You take my marred life and mold me. I am broken by your pressure. I am chiseled as stone. I become pliable when I choose to surrender to you. Molding me is your work. Mine is submission and willingness to change—to let go of what is not right in my heart and in my life. I know that your divine power has given me everything I need to grow spiritually and have a godly life—that I gain that through knowledge of you in your word, and through surrender to your will. You have given precious promises so I might have more of you, and less of my sinful self. I shall make every effort to add to my faith, goodness; and to goodness, knowledge; and to knowledge, self-control; and to self-control, perseverance; and to perseverance, godliness; and to godliness, mutual affection; and to mutual affection, love. If these are growing in my life, you can use me for your best. This only happens with your power and my continual surrender. In the beginning it can be so disheartening, but as I stay surrendered to your will, I am changed by your purpose. My eyes are open. I see so much more that needs to be done in me. I shall continue on this journey and not let what lies ahead discourage me. I learn courage by surrendering my fear; I learn patience by surrendering my control, and I learn perseverance by surrendering my struggle. You are with me, and as this work takes place—through my surrender to your love and power—your qualities increase in my life. I am molded into a useful instrument in your hands. I am formed into whatever you deem best. It hurts to be molded. It hurts to let go of who I am for who you are. It hurts to give up selfishness and what I want. It hurts to let go of that control that has meant so much. But it is in letting go and letting you mold me that I discover your joy and purpose. I discover that what I thought was joy in my life is nothing compared to the joy I find in you. I discover that what I considered my purpose is nothing compared to the one you offer. Take my marred life, Lord, and place your hands upon my brokenness. Bring your pressure to bear just where it is needed. I am yours. Make me your own.
Lynn Hampton Lacher