"Mom, can you lean the car over so I can paint the wheels?"
"Daddy will just love it! He can put all kinds of money in it and maybe use it for Disney Land or something" she said mesmerized by her own creativity. "I'll do the rest myself."
Before I could stop her, little fingers wrapped around the edges of the freshly painted hood then jumped quickly to the front bumper to lift it for another slather of blue. I smiled as I watched her hands put on just as many coats of paint as the car. I had tried so hard to keep the artwork free of smudges and the child free of graffiti. Failed on both.
"Tada! How you think of that?!" she asked with glowing admiration. Scurrying off to wash the mural from her limbs I looked closely at this soon-to-be keepsake of love. Just as I expected-little fingerprints, scratches, and indentations adorned every door panel, window, and tire. Perfect.
Evidence of the artist's handling were only hours away from being fired into the clay repeatedly. I grabbed my daughter's soapy hands and walked her over to sample pieces on display. "Look how shiny the clay becomes honey! Look at how wonderful and rich the colors are once the clay goes through the fire. Next week your bank will be even more beautiful than today."
The whole ride home became one of those "teachable moments" from the Lord that you long for with your children. Glancing between cherub reflections in the rearview mirror and snarling traffic ahead, scriptures turned into Bible stories turned into Sunday school songs I half hummed because of forgotten lyrics.
Days later, sitting in front of our wood stove at home, the Lord seemed to lean my attention to some circumstances in my past and details began to splash across my thoughts. Words previously spoken were like harsh brush strokes that colored my emotions with dark hues. Different events nicked, scratched and painted my future with blacks bleeding into the white days of hope. Disappointments smudged purposes and discouragement left fingerprints all over what I was laboring so hard to do well.
I hear the words of Jesus from John 10:29, "No man can snatch you out of My Father's hand." That hand that lifted this dirty piece of clay out of a miry pit and shaped me into a vessel for Himself. The clay that He gave the air of solitude in my early years so I could become a solid believer rather than be molded and shaped by the world's influence. This clay that He dusted off and began to paint with divine colors and tender brush strokes which I complained about because of the gray dullness, dark overtones, sickly yellows, or fleshy dirt browns. I whined about scraping tools that chipped pieces of my clay, winced when rubbing against sandpaper people, and oftentimes wallowed in self-pity over the Artist's handling.
God's words are more than black letters on white pages. They breathe life into our soul and purpose into our perspective.
"When you walk through the fire, you shall not be burned,
Nor shall the flame scorch you.
For I am the Lord your God...your Savior...you were precious
in My sight, You have been honored and I have loved you." Isa. 43:2-4
"Everything that can endure fire, you shall put through the fire,
and it shall be clean; and it shall be purified..." Numbers 31:23
He calls us precious, honored, and loved. And so the Father hand holds these redeemed lumps of clay and begins a beautifying work of molding, shaping, conforming, then hardening, cleaning, and adorning. We are tossed upside down, sharp tools cut our hearts, and unwanted events color our days. Then the fires of adversity where we don't believe we will make it.
But in the Father's hand, only those things that can endure fire are put through the fire. And when in the fire you don't stay there but go through for a set time. And while the flames heat envelops us and lick our wounds, blankets our colors, we come out on the other side as a display piece for the Father's glory. "Then the righteous shall shine forth as the sun in the kingdom of their Father." Matthew 13:43.
