Last year, I took a pottery class with a nearby studio. I loved it so much I went back a second time. Now, I rent a shelf at the studio. Am I good? No. Well, I wouldn’t rely on me to provide a matching dish set anyway… but I did make a fruit bowl that I’m pretty proud of.
There’s something healing about the art, something comforting about experiencing God’s side of the potter and clay metaphor in the Bible. Here’s five things I’ve learned through pottery. Maybe if you read it here you can save yourself the class fees and dusty clothes. But personally? I think they’re well worth it.
- Perfection isn’t the aim. Fulfilling your purpose is.
One day in class, I made a bowl that I was quite proud of. I let it dry enough that I could put it back on the wheel to trim a foot on the bottom of the bowl. Of course – klutz that I am – I bumped the foot pedal, started the wheel spinning, and watched helplessly as my bowl went flying. A dent in the top ruined my masterpiece. (And by masterpiece, I mean the first bowl I made that was structurally sound… it was a pretty average looking bowl.)
I was distraught, and embarrassed at my clumsiness. The instructor glanced over and without skipping a beat said, “Oh nice, now you can use that dent to rest your chopsticks on. You just got yourself a ramen bowl.”
I wanted to cry from relief, “You mean it’s not ruined?”
“Not a chance, it’s just become a new kind of bowl.”
At the risk of giving my instructor a God complex, do you know how healing that brief interaction was? If we are the clay and God is the potter, then all the dents and dings we get on our little trot through life that make us the imperfect messes that we are don’t disqualify us from his work. We just get to become a new kind of person.
- God is patient. And detail oriented.
Do you know how long it takes to complete a piece of pottery? A LONG FREAKING TIME. Pottery is not for those who want immediate gratification. Actually, those people need it most. But they won’t like it much. (I know. I’m those people.)
Here’s the thing: you start with a damp lump of clay. Assuming you’re a master potter, you can throw a perfect piece in a few minutes. Then, you have to wait for it to reach “leather dry” so you can trim the foot. Then you have to trim the foot, carve any designs you want, etc. Next, it goes in the bisque fire, then you have to glaze it. Then it goes in the glaze kiln. By the time all of that is done, It’s at least a week before you see the finished product, and that’s assuming your kiln is constantly running. For me, (not even close to a master potter) it was about a month between starting a piece and holding the finished product.
And don’t even get me started on types of clay, methods, glaze combinations, sgraffito methods, and all the other things I haven’t even scratched the surface of.
But I’m learning that potters are incredibly patient people. They practice their craft, trace their designs, try and try again for the outcome they want. They won’t settle for a subpar piece. They are artists, not producers. And there is a difference.
- There are endless opportunities to start over… but it’s not for the weak.
No it’s literally not for the weak. It’s a whole-body workout to form clay, and a particular challenge for the ‘ol biceps when you have to wedge used, stubborn clay back into a fresh form so you can start over. But there’s not a single part of the process you can’t begin again. Even if the piece seems finished and it breaks, it can be ground up, soaked, and repurposed into fresh clay.
It. Is. Never. Too. Late.
- Clay has memory.
You might have heard this part before, but it’s true. If you bump wet clay, it tends to bounce back to the form you had it in. Likewise, if you overwork it or twist it the wrong way, it holds those “scars” and will weaken or bend even when you don’t want it to.
Even without belief in Jesus, we know that we’re not what we were meant to be. We’re deeply aware of this “God-shaped hole” in our hearts.
But once we have the gift of the Holy Spirit, I think we have an inkling of what we’re intended to be. We remember the form we were meant to have, and we desperately want to return to it.
- The potter begins with the end in mind.
One of the first things you learn when you sit down at the wheel is to visualize what you want to make. Our hands naturally conform to the shape we hold in our mind. You don’t just chunk out a piece of clay and start throwing it around. You think about what you want to make, then measure out and weigh the corresponding piece of clay. You picture it in your mind, what it will look like, what it will be used for. If I sit down to throw a bowl, I won’t magically come up with a pitcher. They are two different things. They take different kinds of shaping. That’s also why you might look over at a friend or a loved one and find you don’t recognize the shape they are taking. They’re not being made into the same thing as you.
I said I’d share five things with you, but here’s a bonus sixth if you made it this far:
Dust you are, and to dust you shall return. (Genesis 3:19)
In pottery, you learn that it’s never really about the finished product. That’s a bonus. It’s about the process, the practice. Pieces shatter, time breaks things down, nothing we make this side of heaven is permanent. The way by which a piece takes shape is more important than the shape it ends up taking. God is careful in his work, intentional with his methods, and gentle with his touch.
“O house of Israel, can I not do with you as this potter has done? declares the Lord. Behold, like the clay in the potter’s hand, so are you in my hand, O house of Israel.” Jeremiah 18:6
To Walk With Grace 