Wedging

Dusty, wrinkled, and travel weary, my grandmother and I, along with another young lady from our home church, had finally arrived at Saltillo, Mexico. It was to be our last stop before heading out to the remote village to which God had called Grandma many years ago.

We were met by a dear friend, a seamstress by trade. Although she hailed from the village to which we were headed, she was anything but rustic in appearance. Indeed, she was a vision of sartorial perfection. From head to toe, her clothes fit to a tee, were smartly pressed, and matched her accessories as good as any magazine model's.

Receiving us with smiles and hugs, she quickly ushered us over to a small restaurant where she planned to regale us with a feast fit for kings. I balked. Not having yet learned how to be gracious in the receiving of gifts, I shuddered at the thought of the money our kind friend was about to spend on us. Despite her stylish look, I knew that, as a seamstress, her funds were nowhere near limitless. I took her to the side and whispered, "This is too much! You shouldn't have!"

I'll never forget our friend's words. She took me by the arm (for a little bitty thing she sure had a strong grip!), and looked up at me earnestly. "Janinita, todas las cosas que valen la pena en la vida cuestan." Translation: Everything in life worth having comes at a cost.

The fierce pleasure she skewered me with put my uneasiness at bay. Yes, this was a costly venture for her, but it filled a place in her heart, a longing to bless her friends. To her, the joy of giving, a priceless satisfaction, was worth the cost. To this day, her words resonate in my spirit.

Wonderful end products are always worth the cost. It is a secret learned by few, that great joy and beautiful results do not occur by happenstance. They are the result of costly processes. It is also true that the pain and suffering that define that cost find themselves mitigated and validated by the great joy experienced when the glorious result is finally achieved.

Yes, all good things come at a cost. Just as in ... pottery.

Who doesn't want to be a beautiful vessel fit for the Master's use? Who doesn't want their life to be meaningful? But lives couched in significance and useful beauty don't just happen. They only come to be through grueling processes, through sacrificial costs. In pottery terms, that would be: wedging.

In order to ready the clay to make a vessel, the potter needs to wedge the clay. Sometimes it's called ram's head wedging because of the shape the clay forms after being kneaded this way—it seems to form the head and horns of a ram. I find that interesting, since rams are considered a substitutionary sacrifice, as in the story of Abraham (Genesis 22). Could it be that the very shape of wedging speaks to us of symbolism and spiritual meaning in our lives? Over and over the potter pushes, pulls, and maneuvers the clay, doing anything and everything he needs to in order to assure that it is malleable and of just the right consistency.

Why such a rigorous process? Wedging, it turns out, removes air pockets from the clay that would otherwise explode when the piece is fired in the kiln. Wedging gives the clay the ability to be centered, in order to render a symmetrical shape. Wedging makes sure all the particles of the clay are well blended so that the resulting texture gives the generated product soundness and stability. Without wedging, the vessel made by the potter is inferior, subject to structural failure such as cracking, exploding, and distortion, among other imperfections that can result in a ruined product.

Think of this in terms of your life. The painful events in it weren't mere flukes. The Master Potter knew just what you needed, just how to prepare you, so that your inner self would grow to be perfectly beautiful. Yes, some things are painful. Some things we might wish never to have gone through. But every happening, every milestone, is a step towards the inner beauty and meaningfulness for which we long.

So the next time you feel like life is slamming you around, beating you, kneading you ... remember wedging. To be the best we can be for Jesus, our Master Potter must prepare us for perfection. It isn't easy. It comes at a cost. We might not understand what is happening. But the end design is beautiful perfection.

Here am I, Lord. Wedge me. Mold me and make me a beautiful vessel, a vessel of honor, in Your house.

"But now, O Lord, thou art our father; we are the clay, and thou our potter; and we all are the work of thy hand" (Isaiah 64:8).

"The word which came to Jeremiah from the Lord, saying, Arise, and go down to the potter's house, and there I will cause thee to hear my words. Then I went down to the potter's house, and, behold, he wrought a work on the wheels. And the vessel that he made of clay was marred in the hand of the potter: so he made it again into another vessel, as seemed good to the potter to make it. Then the word of the Lord came to me, saying, O house of Israel, cannot I do with you as this potter? saith the Lord. Behold, as the clay is in the potter's hand, so are ye in mine hand, O house of Israel" (Jeremiah 18:1-6).

"Nay but, O man, who art thou that repliest against God? Shall the thing formed say to him that formed it, Why hast thou made me thus? Hath not the potter power over the clay ...?" (Romans 9:20-21).