Lenten Reflection – Day 29 of the Great Lent
The Potter and the Clay: Romans 9:14-21
“But indeed, O man, who are you to reply against God? Will the thing formed say to him who formed it, ‘Why have you made me like this?’ Does not the potter have power over the clay, from the same lump to make one vessel for honour and another for dishonour?” (9:20–21)
Yesterday was Kfiftho Sunday. A woman bent for eighteen years was made straight without asking. Christ saw her, called her, touched her. The five Sundays traced an arc from human initiative to divine initiative. From “I came to You” to “You came to me.”
Today Paul takes that arc to its deepest level. He asks the question underneath all the questions. The question we have been circling since Day 1.
Who is God? What is He doing? And do we have the right to question Him?
Twenty-nine days into the fast. We have been examined, stripped, fed, challenged, comforted, and straightened. We have heard about grace, about duty, about forgiveness, about the Cross. We have been told we are unprofitable servants. We have been told to run to win. We have been told that with God all things are possible.
Today Paul takes us to the potter’s workshop. And what we see there will either terrify us or set us free. Depending on how well we know the Potter.
Is There Unrighteousness with God? (vv. 14–16)
“What shall we say then? Is there unrighteousness with God? Certainly not! For He says to Moses, ‘I will have mercy on whomever I will have mercy, and I will have compassion on whomever I will have compassion.’ So then it is not of him who wills, nor of him who runs, but of God who shows mercy.” (9:14–16)
Paul has been building an argument about Israel and the nations. About election and mercy. About God’s freedom to choose. And the objection comes: is God unfair?
The question is honest. It rises naturally from anyone who has been watching God work. Why does one person receive mercy and another does not? Why does one prayer seem to be answered and another meets silence? Why does God heal the bent woman after eighteen years and not after one? Why does one person’s fast produce transformation while another person’s produces only exhaustion?
Paul’s answer is not an explanation. It is a quotation. From Exodus 33:19. God’s words to Moses on Sinai.
“I will have mercy on whomever I will have mercy.”
God’s mercy is not a response to human merit. It is not triggered by human performance. It is not earned by human effort. God’s mercy is God’s prerogative. He gives it freely. He gives it where He chooses. He gives it on His own terms. And He does not owe anyone an explanation.
“So then it is not of him who wills, nor of him who runs, but of God who shows mercy.”
Not of him who wills. Not of the person who decides to be good enough. Not of him who runs. Not of the person who trains hard enough, fasts long enough, prays fervently enough. The mercy comes from God. Period. The willing and the running are real. Paul told us yesterday to run to win. But the outcome does not depend on the running. It depends on the mercy of the One who set the course.
This is difficult for the person who has been fasting for twenty-nine days. Because twenty-nine days of effort creates a feeling of entitlement. I have done my part. Now God should do His. I have fasted. Now God should reward. I have run. Now God should give me the crown.
Paul says: the mercy does not come from our running. It comes from God. Our running matters. But it does not control the outcome. God controls the outcome. And His mercy is free.
St. John Chrysostom, in his Homily 16 on Romans, is careful to explain what Paul does not mean. He does not mean that human effort is useless. He does not mean that running is pointless. He means that human effort does not compel God. God is not a vending machine. We do not insert twenty-nine days of fasting and receive a predetermined result. God is a Person. And His mercy flows from His character, not from our performance. Chrysostom says that understanding this is the difference between a servant who serves out of fear and a child who rests in a parent’s love. Both may do the same things. The posture is entirely different.1
The Potter’s Purpose (vv. 17–18)
“For the Scripture says to the Pharaoh, ‘For this very purpose I have raised you up, that I may show My power in you, and that My name may be declared in all the earth.’ Therefore He has mercy on whom He wills, and whom He wills He hardens.” (9:17–18)
Paul reaches for the hardest example. Pharaoh. The man whose heart God hardened so that the plagues could continue, so that the Exodus could happen, so that God’s power could be displayed to the nations.
This is the verse that has caused more theological arguments than almost any other in Scripture. Did God make Pharaoh evil? Did God override Pharaoh’s free will? Is God the author of sin?
The Oriental Orthodox tradition answers carefully. God does not create evil. But God uses everything, including human stubbornness, for His purposes. Pharaoh was already hard. God did not make him hard from nothing. God used the hardness that was already there. The same sun that melts wax hardens clay. The same grace that softened Moses hardened Pharaoh. Not because the grace was different. Because the hearts were different.
St. Cyril of Alexandria, in his commentaries on Paul’s letters, teaches that the “hardening” of Pharaoh is not the creation of evil in a neutral heart. It is the permission given to a heart that has already chosen its direction. God does not push anyone toward evil. But God does allow the consequences of freely chosen evil to unfold. And He incorporates those consequences into His larger plan. Pharaoh’s stubbornness became the stage on which God’s power was displayed. The plagues that should have softened Pharaoh’s heart only hardened it further. Not because God was forcing the hardness. Because Pharaoh’s heart was already set. And God, who wastes nothing, used even that for the liberation of His people.2
For us on Day 29, the application is not about predestination. It is about what our hearts are made of. The same Lenten fast that softens one heart hardens another. The same prayers that draw one person closer to God push another person into resentment. The same fasting that produces humility in one person produces pride in another. The grace is the same. The sun is the same. The difference is the material. Wax or clay. Soft or hard.
Twenty-nine days of the same sun. Has the fast been softening us or hardening us? Has the disciplines drawn us closer to God or pushed us further into self-reliance? Has the repentance broken open the ground of our heart or has it packed the surface tighter?
The grace is available. The question is what our heart does with it.
O Man, Who Are You? (vv. 19–20)
“You will say to me then, ‘Why does He still find fault? For who has resisted His will?’ But indeed, O man, who are you to reply against God? Will the thing formed say to him who formed it, ‘Why have you made me like this?'” (9:19–20)
The objection sharpens. If God has mercy on whom He wills and hardens whom He wills, why does He still blame anyone? If God is in control, how can He hold us responsible?
Paul does not answer the philosophical question. He answers with a question of his own. And the question is devastating.
“O man, who are you to reply against God?”
This is not a conversation stopper. It is a perspective correction. Paul is not saying “shut up and stop asking.” He is saying: remember who you are talking to. Remember the gap. Remember the difference between the Creator and the creature. The finite mind cannot comprehend the infinite mind. The clay cannot evaluate the potter’s design. Not because the clay is stupid. Because the clay is clay.
“Will the thing formed say to him who formed it, ‘Why have you made me like this?'”
The image comes from Isaiah 29:16 and Isaiah 45:9. The potter and the clay. One of the oldest metaphors in Scripture for the relationship between God and humanity. The potter shapes. The clay is shaped. The potter has a purpose. The clay does not need to understand the purpose in order to be useful.
This feels harsh to modern ears. We prize autonomy. We prize self-determination. We prize the right to question authority. And Paul says: you are clay. God is the potter. And the clay does not get to tell the potter what shape to take.
But here is what makes this liberating rather than crushing. The potter is the God of John 3:16. The potter is the God who loved the world so much He gave His only Son. The potter is the Christ who said “I am gentle and lowly in heart.” The potter is the Father who runs toward the prodigal son. The potter is the healer who straightened the bent woman without being asked.
This is not a cruel potter shaping clay for amusement. This is a loving God shaping His creation for a purpose we cannot yet see but that is rooted in love. The clay does not understand the potter’s plan. But the clay can trust the potter’s heart. And the heart of this potter has been revealed. On the Cross. In the Gospel. In every act of mercy the fast has shown us for twenty-nine days.
St. Irenaeus of Lyon, in Against Heresies, develops the potter and clay image at length. He argues that the human being is unfinished clay in the hands of a patient Artist. God is not finished with us. The shaping is still in progress. The fire of the kiln has not yet done its final work. Irenaeus says that the person who complains about his shape is like a half-formed vessel complaining about the potter’s design before the potter has finished. Be patient. The Artist knows what He is making. We do not see the final form yet. But He does. And it is beautiful.3
For the Great Lent, this is the word the fast has been preparing us to hear. We are clay. We are being shaped. The shaping hurts. The fire is hot. The hands of the potter press and pull and squeeze in ways we do not understand. But the potter is not cruel. He is skilled. He is patient. He is working with purpose. And the purpose is not to crush us. It is to make us into something we cannot yet imagine.
The Potter Has Power Over the Clay (v. 21)
“Does not the potter have power over the clay, from the same lump to make one vessel for honour and another for dishonour?” (9:21)
The question answers itself. Of course the potter has power over the clay. The clay did not create itself. The clay did not choose its composition. The clay did not decide to be clay rather than stone or wood or metal. The potter gathered the clay. The potter mixed it. The potter placed it on the wheel. The potter shapes it.
“From the same lump.” This detail matters. The vessel for honour and the vessel for dishonour come from the same material. The same lump. The same clay. The difference is not in the raw material. It is in the shaping. In the potter’s decision. In the purpose assigned by the maker.
This has been the message of the Great Lent from the beginning. The same material, handled differently, becomes something different. The same human heart, surrendered to God, becomes a vessel of honour. The same human heart, resisting God, becomes a vessel of dishonour. The clay is the same. The potter is the same. The difference is the yielding.
On Day 25, the rich young ruler was clay that would not yield. He had great possessions and he clenched his fist around them. The potter asked him to open his hand. He could not. He walked away.
On Day 28, the bent woman was clay that had been misshapen by Satan for eighteen years. The potter put His hands on her and reshaped her in an instant. She yielded. She was made straight.
Same clay. Different responses. Same potter. Different outcomes.
St. Ephrem the Syrian, in his Hymns on Faith, writes about the potter and clay with characteristic tenderness. He says the potter does not despise the clay for being clay. The potter chose clay. He could have worked with marble or gold. He chose the humblest material. The most common. The most available. And from this humble, common material, He makes vessels of extraordinary beauty. Ephrem says that the fact that God works with clay is the Gospel in miniature. He does not need impressive material. He needs yielding material. The clay that is soft in His hands becomes a masterpiece. The clay that is hard in His hands becomes a warning. But in both cases, the potter’s skill is the same. The potter’s love is the same. And the potter’s patience is beyond anything the clay can imagine.4
What This Means for Day 29
Twenty-nine days. The fast has been shaping us. Sometimes gently. Sometimes with force. There have been moments on the wheel when the pressure was unbearable. When the hands of the potter pressed into places that hurt. When the spinning was disorienting. When the shape we thought we were becoming collapsed and the potter started over.
This is normal. This is the work.
The question is not whether the shaping hurts. It does. The question is whether we trust the hands that are doing the shaping. If the potter is a tyrant, the shaping is torture. If the potter is the God who loved the world so much that He gave His only Son, the shaping is redemption.
We are clay. This is not an insult. It is a description. We did not create yourself. We did not choose our composition. We did not decide to exist. All of that was the potter’s doing. And the potter is not finished. The vessel is not complete. Day 29 is not the final form. The kiln has not yet done its work. And the potter’s hands are still on the wheel.
Do not tell the potter what shape to take. Trust the potter’s design. We cannot see the finished vessel from where we are on the wheel. But He can. And what He sees makes Him keep working.
On Day 16, Paul said “we are His workmanship.” Poiema. His poem. His artwork. Today we see the medium. Clay. And the Artist. God. And the process. Shaping. Spinning. Firing. All of it directed by hands that are gentle and lowly in heart. All of it motivated by a love that gave its only Son. All of it producing something that the clay cannot yet see but that the potter already knows is beautiful.
For Our Journey Today
Be soft clay today. The potter can only shape what yields. If the fast has been hardening you, if twenty-nine days of discipline have made you more rigid rather than more flexible, today is the day to soften. Let the water of prayer soak in. Let the hands of God press without resistance. The same sun that hardens clay melts wax. Choose to be wax today. Yield to the shaping rather than fighting it.
Stop asking why. Not forever. Not because questions are wrong. But today, for one day, stop asking “why have you made me like this?” and start saying “make me into whatever You want.” The clay that stops arguing with the potter becomes the clay the potter can use. You do not need to understand the design. You need to trust the Designer. For today, that is enough.
Look at the potter’s hands. If you are afraid of the shaping, look at the hands that are doing it. These are the hands that touched the leper. That straightened the bent woman. That broke bread for four thousand. That were nailed to the Cross. The hands that shape you are the same hands that bled for you. They are not cruel hands. They are wounded hands. And wounded hands handle clay with care.
Lord God, Potter of heaven and earth, who took the dust of the ground and shaped it into a living soul, we are Your clay. We confess that we have argued with Your shaping. We have questioned Your design. We have resisted Your hands on the wheel. We have told You what shape we want to be instead of trusting the shape You are making. Forgive us. We do not see the finished vessel. But You do. And You have not stopped working. Not after twenty-nine days. Not after twenty-nine years. Not after a lifetime of resistance. Your hands are still on the wheel. Your patience is beyond anything we deserve. Make us soft. Make us yielding. Make us into whatever vessel You have planned. For honour. For Your purposes. For the glory that we cannot yet see but that You already know. We trust Your hands. Not because we understand the design. Because we know the Designer. And He is good. By the prayers of the Most Holy Theotokos, the holy Apostle Paul, and all the saints, have mercy on us and save us. Amen.
- St. John Chrysostom (c. 349–407). Homily 16 on Romans. Edition: Nicene and Post-Nicene Fathers (NPNF), Series I, Vol. 11: Homilies on the Epistle to the Romans, translated by J.B. Morris, W.H. Simcox, and George B. Stevens (available at newadvent.org and ccel.org). ↩︎
- St. Cyril of Alexandria (c. 376–444): Norman Russell, Cyril of Alexandria (Routledge, Early Church Fathers Series, 2000). Also On the Unity of Christ, translated by John McGuckin (St. Vladimir’s Seminary Press, Popular Patristics Series, 1995). ↩︎
- St. Irenaeus of Lyon (c. 130–202). Against Heresies (Adversus Haereses), particularly Book 4, chapters 37–39. ↩︎
- St. Ephrem the Syrian (c. 306–373). Hymns on Faith (Madrāshē d-Haymānutā) ↩︎
