THE POTTER’S HOUSE (with Deuteronomy)
#614bb THE POTTER’S HOUSE (with Deuteronomy)
Scripture Deuteronomy 20:1-4; Jeremiah 18:1-6, NIV Orig. Date May 10, 1981
Passage:
Deuteronomy 20:1-4
When you go to war against your enemies and see horses and chariots and an army greater than yours, do not be afraid of them, because the Lord your God, who brought you up out of Egypt, will be with you. 2 When you are about to go into battle, the priest shall come forward and address the army. 3 He shall say: “Hear, Israel: Today you are going into battle against your enemies. Do not be fainthearted or afraid; do not panic or be terrified by them. 4 For the Lord your God is the one who goes with you to fight for you against your enemies to give you victory.”
Jeremiah 18:1-6
This is the word that came to Jeremiah from the Lord: 2 “Go down to the potter’s house, and there I will give you my message.” 3 So I went down to the potter’s house, and I saw him working at the wheel. 4 But the pot he was shaping from the clay was marred in his hands; so the potter formed it into another pot, shaping it as seemed best to him. 5 Then the word of the Lord came to me. 6 He said, “Can I not do with you, Israel, as this potter does?” declares the Lord. “Like clay in the hand of the potter, so are you in my hand, Israel.”
Purpose: To share a message at a special gathering of high school students.
Keywords: Discipline Banquet Revelation Relationship Youth
Introduction
It was one of those intolerably hot August days. A hiker had come out of the high regions and was beginning to see signs of civilization. Occasionally, in the distance, a house. Here and there, cultivated land with crops laid by. The hiker was now thinking only of finding a place to get a cool drink of water.
Down the way, he saw an old mountain house. As he drew nearer, he saw a man seated in a rickety chair on the run-down porch. As he approached he determined to be neighborly to the man, hoping that he would be so in return. He spoke, then called attention to the disagreeable weather. Still no invitation to rest came. He went on, “How is your cotton doing in this hot, dry weather?”
“Ain’t got none!” replied the mountain man.
“Didn’t you plant any cotton?” asked the surprised traveler.
“Nope,” he replied, “’fraid the boll weevils’d get it.”
“Well,” said the passer-by, “How is your corn?”
“Ain’t got none of that either,” said the old farmer, “And if you gotta know, I figured there weren’t gonna be no rain.”
Still hoping for an invitation to rest, and a drink of water, the hiker plunged in again. “Really, well what did you plant?” he asked.
“Didn’t plant nothing,” said the farmer, getting up to enter the old house. “I just played it safe.”
There are lots of good reasons why we do what we do. Some of them even good ones, and our excuses become the determinants of the way our lives are lived. To be a farmer and not to plant is ludicrous. To live in God’s world and make excuses for discounting Him is also.
There’s a shorter story of an avid golfer who was checking with his spiritual adviser about golfing in heaven. The adviser said, “There’s good and bad news. The good news is that the golf courses in heaven are many and lavish.” “That’s great!” the golfer happily exclaimed. “What’s the bad news?” The adviser said: “Tee off time is tomorrow at 10a.m.”
At first glance, Cervantes’ novel, Don Quixote, has little to offer young people. It is the story of a thought-to-be senile old man, and his fat and 50ish servant. They launch a quest to do something about the evil in the world, the don on a sway back horse and Panza on a mule. They stop for the night at a less than becoming inn, and his strange ways continue. He addresses the slovenly inn-keeper, “Behold, you are the Lord of this great manor.” The abused kitchen servant was seen as a beautiful maiden, and he requests a token to carry with him into his battles with evil. But what happens is that people who have never been trusted before respond to Quixote’s kindness, and it changes their lives, and does affect the evil in the world by affecting the lives of evil people.
You are at the place to decide your quest: A part of the evil, or an attempt to do something about it. Why you?
The New Orleans TV market had an unusually fine TV program a few years ago that ended with the sudden and unexpected death of the host, Jim Metcalf. He chose for a portion of one program to see life through a child’s eyes. “I now recall only how to look. I do not recall how to see.”
You must decide quickly, before you join a great host of others who recall only how to look at the world, not how to see it. How to experience the world, not how you feel about that experience.
Jeremiah is a case in point. It is here that I invite you to venture with Jeremiah to the potter’s house.
I. With All of His Experience, there was a Lesson that He had Missed. It was not an obvious lesson: not wasted clay, though we Americans have something to learn about waste—our loss of credibility. The lesson was in the symbol of wasted clay. It was a revelation. Not new, but very old. The symbol declared that it was God’s purpose to take what seemed to be useless and give it meaning and opportunity. It is a lesson that must not be pushed too far. The clay does not have free will with which it can resist the potter. Jeremiah did, and we do.
II. You See, Even as God’s Prophet, He had Compromised an Ideal. The world out there waiting for you is beset with bargains.
Soren Kierkegaard told a story about wild geese who chose to stay behind in a farmer’s field because it was safe. A wild goose, with broken wing, entered a farmer’s flock. After winter, with healed wing, he heard another flock flying north. He extolled the other geese to fly with him, but they would not, for the farmer’s corn was good, and the barnyard secure.
Alexander Solzhenitsyn wrote: “When was it that I completely scattered the good seeds, one and all? For, after all, I spent my boyhood in the bright singing of Thy temples.
“Bookish subtleties sparked brightly, piercing my arrogant brain, the secrets of the world . . . in my grasp, life’s destiny . . . as pliable as wax.
“Blood seethed . . . and every swirl gleamed iridescently before me. Without a rumble the building of my faith quietly crumbled within my own heart.
“But passing here between being and nothingness, stumbling and clutching at the edge, I looked behind me with a grateful tremor upon the life that I have lived. Not with good judgment nor with desire are its twists and turns illumined, but with the even glow of the higher meaning which became apparent to me only later on.
“And now, with measuring cup returned to me, scooping up the living water, God of the universe! I believe again! Though I renounced you, you were with me!”
Alexander Solzhenitsyn, Gulag II (Harper and Row—1968)
III. It was Now Time to Certify the Word from God. What God had to say was to be revealed in the work of the potter.
It speaks of confidence. There is something to believe in. There is a dependable world.
It speaks of obedience. James Michener’s book, The Source, is a fictional account of Moses. El Shaddai said to Zadok-the-Righteous, “As long as you live old man, you will be free to ignore my commands. But in time, I will grow impatient and will speak to others.” Zadok: “My home is the desert. I was afraid to leave.” El Shaddai: ‘I waited because I knew that if you did not love your home, you would not love me either. I am glad that you are now ready.”
It speaks of faith. I watched with more than a smile as a little girl, 4 or 5 years old, waited at the baggage belt in the air terminal in New Orleans. Just the three of us waiting for luggage at Moisant. She asked about putting her stuffed bear on the belt. Her daddy assured her it would come back. You cannot imagine the look of concern on that father’s face as he waited with her for his word to be trustworthy.
IV. The Lesson had to do with Discovering a Destiny. “Cannot I do with you as this potter? . . . As clay is in the potter’s hand, so are you in my hand.”
Let me remind you of your dependence. This is not what your contemporaries want you to consider. It is threatening to them.
Let me remind you of design. The will of God is not a trite “preacherism.” It is ultimate truth. A little boy in a small town heard a “circus” was coming. He did not know what it was but posters and talk convinced him. For weeks he saved pennies till he had 25 cents. On the day, he got to town and was told where to go for the beginning of the parade. He saw lions, tigers, bears, elephants with people riding on them, beautiful horses, acrobats, jugglers, clowns, the circus band. As the last person appeared, the little boy stepped into the street, put five nickels into the man’s hand, and ran home to tell what he had seen. He had not been to a circus but to a parade.
Let me remind you of discipline: the calloused feet; the tools—wheel, rasp, chisel, fire. The light then came on in the prophet’s brain. Life’s meaning is found on the shaping wheel of grace, tempered in the fires of God’s providence.
Conclusion
Herman Hegedorn wrote after the initial atom bomb blast in New Mexico: “I went to call on the Lord in His high house on the hill, my head full of 150 million people having to grow up overnight. If ever a people needed a miracle! The Lord!! He looked at me as a mountain might look at a molehill.” ‘So you want a miracle. My! My! You want a miracle. You want me to come sliding down a sunbeam and make 150 million self-willed egotists into 150 million cooperating angels.
‘Brother,’ said the Lord in a voice that shook the windows, ‘that isn’t the sort of universe you are living in. That isn’t the sort of God I am. . . .
‘Give me your life, and I will make it a spade to dig the foundation of a new world.’”