12/02/2026
In holy stillness, the Potter bends low,
Hands of mercy shaping hearts we cannot yet know.
We rest as the clay, trusting His gentle art,
Every touch a promise, every turn a new start.
He works in quiet, unseen by the rushing world,
Molding each flaw, smoothing each edge,
Filling the broken spaces with patience and grace,
Forming beauty where none seemed possible.
In Sabbath rest, we surrender and abide,
Held in His hands, safe and refined,
Shaped by wisdom, strengthened by love,
Until the clay becomes the masterpiece He dreamed of.
Yet, O Lord, You are our Father;
We are the clay, You are the Potter,
We are all the work of Your hand.
-Isaiah 64:8
