Clay vs. Wood

Today, if we want a dish or a vase a candleholder or a piece of furniture, we go purchase it. In Bible times it wasn't always quite so easy. At the market, if the potter didn't have the dishes that matched in the color or pattern you wanted, you could go to his workshop and specify what you wished for your pieces. It might be several days or weeks before you received what you wanted. In that society, a potter was a type of artist. His art was very functional and yet also added beauty and order to their homes.
Wood carvers were also important; many tools and furniture pieces were carved by craftsmen. It might not be an instant purchase; if the chairs or table you wanted were not available, it could be weeks before he would have them ready. The two artisans had very different workshops and very different tools to work with, but they both were very useful for providing functional and beautiful pieces for people to use in their homes.
These two contrasting art forms have been somewhat lost over time, although we still use wood and pottery today. Our mass-production plants hardly resemble an artisan's workshop, however, and so some of the Bible's imagery might require a little effort on our part to absorb. The image of a potter is used to describe God on more than one occasion, and thinking that through means we need to picture God as an artist, giving shape to a lump of clay sitting on His wheel. He has a specific design in mind; He knows how much clay it will take to make; He has prepped the clay and has His oven ready to fire it into sturdiness so His design will not be lost. God is not described as a woodworker; He does not begin with material that already has a shape.
Yet sometimes in His hands I resemble wood rather than clay. Sometimes my "woodgrain" (i.e., my "personality", my "needs", my own "plans") gets in the way of God's shaping. I forget that I am not wood; I had no shape or design until He gave it to me. I have the airy notion that there is part of me that belongs to me; it puffs me up and makes me hard to form. Now wood can be beautifully carved. There are many strong forms it can take, and showing off its grain is a beautiful part of that process. Think what it does to the wood! It has parts shaved off with sharp tools; pieces of it litter the floor around the carver's stool. For the carver, going across the grain of the wood requires a lot of effort and special tools. What a painful process this could be!
We are not described as wood, however; we are described as clay. We are soft and formless, with no beauty or function on our own. God's hands can be gentle while they shape us into what He imagined when He made our clay. No scraps have to be wasted - it is all usable in His hands. He can impress pattern and color into us and make us useful and beautiful.
This process is partly up to us, however; acting like wood can mean a painful trimming process is necessary for us to be useful. Forgetting that I was made to be shaped means I think I have a good enough shape and I don't want to lose it. It makes me comfortable to think there is some part of me that is indigenous to Me; something that is Mine. In those moments I forget that I was someone else's idea, not my own. I was made to be gently and lovingly shaped into something beautiful and useful, for another place and time. This process doesn't have to always be painful. If I can be more like a lump of clay many times He can work a lot easier on me, and I must remember that is always better for me.