Wonderfully made

~We are the clay, and you are the potter.  We are all formed by your hand.  Isaiah 64:8

More often than not, I question if God failed to consult the instruction manual when assembling and designing my complicated self.  I'm idealistic.  Messy.  I worry.  Day dreamy.  Sensitive.  A die hard romantic.  Stubborn.  Overly cautious.  Did I mention I worry?

I don’t know about you, but it’s a rare day that I am thanking God for making me so wonderfully complex.  Sometimes, I give myself a headache.

We stare back at our reflections in the mirror and hone in on the adjustments that need to be made, and rarely, the beauty that is staring back at us.  We curse our aching body part, those creeky joints, that loose skin, and long for something more.  Something different.  Something improved.

And don’t get me started on the internal battles.  The thorns in our sides.  Our own personal wrestling matches.  Some of us feeling that God perhaps should have consulted with an electrician or two when fine tuning our wiring.  We have short fuses.  Short tempers.  Short attention spans. We long too for our minds to be tweaked and adjusted.

With all of our imperfections, it is hard to rest in God’s promise that we are his workmanship.  That we are marvelous.  Wonderful.  And the ingredients tossed together which make you, well you, are perfectly designed and picked for your purpose here on earth.   What if we want to trade in for a new model? What if we are Ford Pintos when our neighbours are Escalades? And how come, this model didn’t come with a receipt? An exchange policy. Or at the very least, some bonus air miles to at least take our sorry selves on vacation.

I am at the greatest peace in life when I trust that God knew what he was doing when he orchestrated my existence.  That my giftings, my personality, and my wiring, however good or faulty, were masterfully created by the king of all potters. 

The beauty lies in remembering that our clay selves remain flexible, adaptable, and impressionable when we remain in his hands.  He knows the cracks and crevices.  The density.  The temperature.  The speed of the wheel.  The pressure needed or not needed.  He guides us and molds us and shapes us in his palms.  Creating a majestic work of art.  Unique, perfect, and in all ways good.

So, the next time you begrudge your complexion in the mirror.  Or clench in frustration at a task you think you should be better at,  remember that you are enclosed and encased by the father of the universe who knit you together in your mother's womb.  Who continues to hold you on that potter's wheel until completion.  I promise you when you rest in that, you will experience the love and peace that you, beautiful one, are wonderfully made.