In the Potter’s Hands

 Last Saturday morning, I stumbled with my old prayer journals and was surprised to see a poemI’ve written on September 2, 2010, 7:10-7:28 AM during my morning devotions. I’ve almost forgotten it. It was almost two years ago and I’ve seen more poems I haven’t published yet. Here’s one of my favorite poems that was impressed and was written during my crucible.


A lump of clay, dirty and dull

In His delicate hands, He carefully molded.

With patience He pressed;

In the potter’s wheel, He wonderfully created,

A delicate vase, so fine and yet so fragile.

The vase, so lovely and yet stubborn,

Jumped off the potter’s wheel.

Trusted herself; she fell, got broken.

With pity, the loving Potter took notice of the vase,

Not totally wrecked, not a worse case.

His delicate, molding hands took the cracked vase,

With wisdom He uttered:

“I can’t just patch by covering the cracked parts, lovely vase.

You have to endure,

You should go again the painful process because I love you so.”

“Please let me fully grasp Your wisdom My Potter…”, she answered.

…let me submit and never retaliate.

After all, it’s my fault.

I was too excited, I jumped off, I faltered.”

His miraculous, creative hands crushed the cracked vase,

Forsaken and feeling bitter, the once lovely vase reacted:

“I thought You love me, why did You crush me?

I felt worthless and senseless.

I trusted You, but You made me worse!”

“Trust me more, I am molding again another you.

A cracked vase won’t work… just trust me, I love You so!”

It seemed forever, she couldn’t almost endure another process.

This time it was more intense,

But she felt the care escaped the hands of the Potter.

Then suddenly she felt the heat.

“Why need the fire and the scorching sun?” she muttered.

Silence…deafening silence.

“It was for your own good –

To refine you more and to strengthen the mold.

So if you fall again, in case you choose to fall,

Or some careless people make you fall,

You won’t be easily cracked;

You’ll be the strongest earthen vessel,

Then I would be glorified.”

The Potter gladly uttered as he painted her with the glorious tints,

Added embellishments for finishing touches:

“Because I love you so, I can’t care for you less!”

He’s the Potter, I am the clay

“But we have this treasure in jars of clay to show that this all-surpassing power is from God and not from us.” 2 Corinthians 4:7

© LAF 2012

Note: Photo credits to and google image. This blog has a copyright . The poem should not be used, reproduced and manipulated by any means without a written request and consent from the author.


Filed under Object Lessons, Potpourri of Poetry

7 responses to “In the Potter’s Hands

  1. how inspiring this is! Thank you!:)

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