Okay . . . so that was a pretty nervy title, right? Well, I'm writing this book, see, and it's about clay. Well, some of it is about clay, at least. Anyway, I looked up all the verses about our being clay in God's hands and how the clay can't possibly say, "Stop forming me!" I also did some research into pottery and pot making in general.
As I watched various pottery experts at the wheel in various YouTube videos, I was struck by two things: (1) the immense skill involved in just stabilizing the clay--let alone turning it into something beautiful and (2) the direction the clay WANTS to go.
One lady mentioned this as she was throwing the clay. She said, "Remember, every piece of clay wants to become a bowl once it's on the wheel. If you want it to be a cylinder, you are really going to have to fight against its desire." The centrifugal force of the wheel is to blame for this. On the other hand, if you want to make a plate, you really have to focus on guiding the center of the clay out to the outer rim without it all peeling up in your hands. Once you successfully guide it out to the outer rim, you have to REALLY focus on pulling the sides up and supporting them as you pull out without the whole thing flopping over onto the wheel because of gravity. Besides all that, you have to keep the clay moist, keep it centered, keep it pliable, keep it free from bubbles and impurities--at all times. So many things to think about. So many things that could go wrong if one of them is off. Yet, if everything is in sync, you get a beautiful piece of pottery at the end.
Most of this I knew or could have guessed, but I guess what hit me was this: True, the clay keeps pushing out and against the potter; however, that's not always a bad thing. If the clay didn't push at all, nothing would ever happen.
It just hit me after watching these few videos and thinking about freewill and predestination and the fact that we are compared to clay so often in the Bible. Could this be the answer to the whole thing? It just seems to me that this picture answers a lot of questions. Of course the Potter is in supreme control, yet . . . we can either be workable or unworkable. It's up to us.
Besides that . . . clay doesn't actually have a freewill. But if something so inanimate can mimic a freewill in such a clear way just by scientifically mathematical forces, then . . . our real freewill must at least be as significant in the grand scheme of things or else no one would have suggested this analogy.
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