When the mountain won’t move
In the brief encounters we’d had there where creativity flowed, the smell of fresh-ground beans filled the air, and lovely pressed-tin ceilings towered, she’d become a trusted mentor. Dispensing words of wisdom, listening quiet, bowing to pray, often, I’d come to trust her advice.
Now, I was laying out before her my struggle; my battle; my mountain; that one hard thing that wouldn’t move. She listened. Then, with just a couple of well-placed questions, she laid it bare, and I knew what I had to do. Knew why it hadn’t moved. Saw with clarity what it was for. And then she said it: “Let it be your sculptor.”
I, the pot. He, the Master Potter, turning the wheel, hands on His creation, forming and molding the clay. Then, turning slow and sure, placing it gently in the oven’s fire to finish the work. He knew just how long; how high the heat must be to perfect the work and make it fit. He knew.
This mountain, this hard thing had been left in place for my perfecting, my sanctification. In this time in the kiln, imperfections long buried and long unseen were rising up, coming forth where they could be faced and dealt with so that healing could come, and beauty.
Oh, how kind He was, and good. For a loving Father would never thrust a pot into use before it was ready; strong; fit; able to bear the weight, to take the pressure, to do its work. If He removed it too soon, it wouldn’t be prepared for what was coming down the road. For what I knew was coming down the road…
And so I ask you today, my friend: What is your mountain that won’t move; that one hard thing that still remains? May I put an arm around your shoulder and say to you quietly what a wise woman once said to me? “Let it be your sculptor.”
Let it – let Him – do the work. Hold still just a little longer as the wheel turns, the fire bakes, and the glaze is applied. The loving Potter won’t leave you there one moment longer than what’s needed for your strength and health, your holiness and sanctification. For your preparedness, and for beauty.
All is well, and all shall be well. For He is enough.