Red Mugs, Purple Feet, and the Potter's Gentle Hand

Yet, O LORD, you are our Father.
We are the clay, you are the potter;
we are all the work of your hand.
Isaiah 64:8 NIV

Last Friday afternoon was spent with my daughter Hannah at a place called Brown Dog Pottery. Hannah wanted to go because her good friend from church works there and will soon leave for college. I wanted to go because I needed a break from a hectic work week and wanted to spend time with my soon to be in high school daughter.

The store has a wide selection of paintable ceramic pottery, ranging from small tiles and figurines to plates and mugs to a "who would buy that?" two foot tall rooster. Hannah selected a jewelry box to paint, while I chose a good sized coffee mug. We sat across from each other at a long table after picking out colors and brushes.

Not having painted anything in a long, long time, I didn't anticipate how much time it was going to take. While my child quickly detailed her creation, I simply stared at mine. Trying to decide what design would most impress my friends and make my enemies cringe. Or something like that.

Hannah is extremely artistic, using colors, lines, and shapes to create one fantastic looking piece of art.

I painted my mug red.

As the red paint dried to a funny looking pink, I decided my creation needed a white "B" on it's side. This came to me only after spending an inordinate amount of time determining that the words "Red Sox" would be much too difficult to paint successfully around the side of the cup. It seemed like eons passed as I traced a "B" on the cup with a pencil and then filled the traced "B" with white paint. Then I had to touch the edges up with red, then white, then red, then white--well, you get the idea. I didn't find it particularly helpful to be surrounded by all sorts of brightly colored, immaculately designed examples of painting by those who had gone before me. My frustration at my level of imperfection began to show through despite the girls continual reassurances that I had painted a really, really attractive "B".

Then an idea popped into my head. The other side of the mug could be different! Multicolored fish maybe, or a Bible verse, or perhaps a cross. Eventually I put a cross and a verse on the reverse side of the mug.

Sigh. It looked terrible. So I covered it up with even more bright red paint. Not satisfied with plain red, I perused the assortment of shape stamps. Finally choosing one, I put footprints, purple footprints, over the red paint. Watching the feet dry I searched for the perfect word to describe my creation, and it finally came to me.

Ridiculous. My mug looked absolutely ridiculous.

Sensing my discomfort as I disdainfully eyed my creation, Hannah's friend said, "Look, all you have to do is wipe the paint off. Cover it with a little more red, and you'll be done." Sure enough, a little water on a paper towel, some violent wiping motions, a little more red paint, and my mug with the decent looking "B" was ready for the kiln.

As I wiped the purple feet off my mug, I thought about Isaiah 64:8. About no matter how imperfect, how messed up, how sinful we can get, still all of us are all the work of God's hands and loved beyond anything we could imagine. How many times in my life have I made foolish mistakes, much more foolish than simply messing up my mug at the pottery place? And God, like a potter, always uses his tender hands to wipe our foolish mistakes away, so we can all look much less--well, ridiculous--and much more like him.

What a God this is, who is willing to work with us, to mold us and shape us into something valuable, beautiful, and priceless. A God who patiently wipes off our 'purple feet' mistakes, gently covering over them with the bright red blood of Jesus. A God who delights in filling our too human 'jars of clay' with the great treasure of his Spirit (II Cor. 4:7).

I'll not soon forget this experience at Brown Dog Pottery. A wonderful time spent with my 'little girl' who is all too quickly becoming a delightful young woman. And a powerful reminder of the awesome love of a God who shapes us with tender hands like a potter.