Am I Not a Character?

He is the potter and I am the clay. Before a potter makes anything he has to prepare the clay; he has to throw it down hard, to wedge it, to force out the air bubbles. If he skips that step, any air bubbles left in the clay will expand when exposed to the high heat of the kiln and the creation will explode.

I’ve always been amazed that one thin sheet of paper when multiplied becomes a much heavier ream and many reams in a box become something so substantial that you need a forklift or at least a large man to move it. And one book, so easily carried around in a purse for snatches of pleasure during the day, when joined by three or four more to satisfy one’s moods, becomes a backache. And a whole boxful on moving day becomes immovable.
One delicate snowflake melting on my cheek, when joined by millions of others can bury me on a mountain. And so God builds my character, day by day, moment by moment, every time I say, “yes,” to Him, I am grounded. I observe a life of integrity; I am not confetti.

Sometimes our troubles hit us like a ton of bricks; sometimes like a ton of feathers. (Which one weighs more?) When my father died when I was 12, I had to decide, was God love or was he not? Much later the refinement came by feathers – the dishes washed, diapers changed and laundry loaded. Eventually I stopped fantasizing about the character on Bewitched who twitched her nose to get it all done, got some character and got some of it done.

There will be wars and rumors of wars and terrorists and nuclear threats and earthquakes and floods and beds to make. If things get too hot in the kiln will I burst and disintegrate? Will I let God develop in me the character of a Corrie Ten Boom? Will I offer my life as a living sacrifice to the point of risking it? Will I rejoice in my sufferings, because I believe that suffering produces perseverance; perseverance character; and character hope?