The Touch Of Our Father

“But now, O LORD, thou art our father; we are the clay, and thou our potter; and we all are the work of thy hand.” (Isa 64:8 AV)

Our heavenly Father cannot be compared to any earthly father we could ever have.  His care for us is something we may never understand.  The above verse can be taken, or applied, in several ways.  I prefer to see the hope of a future under the compassionate hand of God as that which draws my heart.  I see a patient Father who will never cease to shape us and mold us.  This project is a life-long one.  This project is never-ending.  As the potter has constant contact with the clay he is working on, our Father never ceases to shape us into the child He so desperately wants.  The Fatherhood of God is what I see.  I see a Father who is constantly paying attention to us and will never forsake us.  He is building and making each saint into the image of Jesus so that we might be pleasing in His sight.  The beauty of holiness is what is best for us and for Him.  He knows the blessings of living in accordance with His perfection and knows the only way we will do this is the be transformed by the work of His hand.  It is this love that truly speaks to my heart.

When I was a child, I hung around a community center that was very popular in our small little town.  It was called the Keenen Center.  It was the only indoor ice hockey rink in town.  It had several gyms associated with it.  At the top of a gentle hill was an old playhouse.  It was a small little theatre for the performing arts.  At the bottom of the hill, the center was all about sports.  At the top of the hill was the center for the performing arts.  I remember the many hours I spent in both parts.  One thing I remember was the art classes.  I was a little boy that no one really saw.  I had the freedom to go wherever I wanted.  The art classes had spinning tables for pottery classes.  I remember sitting under a large tree and peering into the open door and windows, watching the craftsmen working their clay.  I remember watching one such individual as they carefully shaped a large vase.  Once started, the artisan could not stop until the pottery was completely fashioned.  She had to stop and restart a few times.  She hadn’t balanced out the clay so when the center of gravity shifted, the pot collapsed.  I watched this for what seemed like hours.  Finally, she had her pot.  What I remember most about it was the attention she paid to the crafting of the pot.  Her feet worked the spindle almost as an afterthought.  Her hands were what drew me.  Constantly mingled with the clay and water, she gently shaped her project.  She had an emotional investment going on.  To her, it wasn’t just clay.  It was an object that she saw ahead of time.  She knew what it had to look like.  She added a strip of clay and then formed it with water and gentile pressure.  The more she added and shaped, the more she was emotionally vested.  When she was finally done, she wiped her brow and gave a deep sigh.  She smiled.  She relaxed.  She was so proud of that pot that she became emotionally attached to it.  She loved that pot.

Our Father does the same.  We are rough.  We need a lot of work.  As I am reminded of this lady’s hands I cannot help but get a picture of our Father who is in constant and loving contact with us as He shapes us into the persons he wants us to be.  The gentile touch of His presence and the ministry of His word shapes each and every aspect our who and what we are.  That touch is a touch of love and compassion.  That touch is a touch of hope and anticipation.  That touch relates to the clay there is a future of hope there.  That touch tells the clay there is hope for their reclamation.  That touch is a gingerly reminder that God loves you and will always seek to change you into something and someone who can enjoy the blessings of being a child of God.  This touch is full of the mercy and love of God.  And, the touch of our Father is constant.  It never goes away.