The Clay and the Teapot
Lydia Pate shares a fantastic illustration with a gentle exhortation. Brew a cuppa and read along …
The lid of my teapot—shattered in pieces. It wasn't just any teapot—it was a Brown Betty, a symbol of the English teatime tradition I had grown up with. I stared again at the fragments on the floor, willing them to meld.
Dark brown, glazed to a high shine and blessed with a round, pot-bellied shape, the Brown Betty's plump contours provide the perfect vessel for brewing a brisk, full-bodied cup of tea. One of its distinguishing features is that it is made from English red clay which retains heat better than any other teapots.
During my childhood years in Africa, an English lady had admonished my mother on one of the finer points of making the perfect potion: "Take the kettle to the teapot, not the teapot to the kettle." I have always followed her sacred advice.
The kettle on the stove whistled, oblivious to my distress. Nearby, cooling on the baking sheet were raspberry jam cookies rolled in crisp almond slivers. And there on the counter, lidless and forlorn, sat my Brown Betty.
As I poured the water I watched the swirl of tea leaves. I found a small coffeepot lid, placed it on top of my Brown Betty, and then followed with a stylish accessory—a crocheted, green-and-gold cozy. Dressed in all its finery, my sidekick seemed to say: "Cheer up! I say, how 'bout a cuppa tea?" It wasn't the end of the world. I could always buy another replacement.
Words began to simmer in my heart. Isaiah 64: 8, NIV, says: "… We are the clay, you are the potter; we are all the work of your hand." Like the Brown Betty, I am a vessel of clay. Day by day, God seeks to mold me into His image. Sometimes, life's circumstances blow my lid off and I break, but God lovingly takes the fragments, places me back on His potter's wheel and begins the remolding.
A sip of the hot tea, laden with milk and sugar, awakened me with a jolt. It was a brew made in heaven, one of the sweetest, most invigorating cups I had ever tasted. Despite its mishap, my refurbished Brown Betty was still a star, and held a special place in my heart.
So it is with my life. God looks beyond my earthen imperfections to the divine potential in me. Although His sculpting is sometimes painful, He never gives up on me but continues to lovingly shape me into His likeness, into a vessel fit for His use.
