The Potter’s Hands

Jeremiah 18:1–11 NKJV

1 The word which came to Jeremiah from the Lord, saying: 2 “Arise and go down to the potter’s house, and there I will cause you to hear My words.” 3 Then I went down to the potter’s house, and there he was, making something at the wheel. 4 And the vessel that he made of clay was marred in the hand of the potter; so he made it again into another vessel, as it seemed good to the potter to make. 5 Then the word of the Lord came to me, saying: 6 “O house of Israel, can I not do with you as this potter?” says the Lord. “Look, as the clay is in the potter’s hand, so are you in My hand, O house of Israel! 7 The instant I speak concerning a nation and concerning a kingdom, to pluck up, to pull down, and to destroy it, 8 if that nation against whom I have spoken turns from its evil, I will relent of the disaster that I thought to bring upon it. 9 And the instant I speak concerning a nation and concerning a kingdom, to build and to plant it, 10 if it does evil in My sight so that it does not obey My voice, then I will relent concerning the good with which I said I would benefit it. 11 “Now therefore, speak to the men of Judah and to the inhabitants of Jerusalem, saying, ‘Thus says the Lord: “Behold, I am fashioning a disaster and devising a plan against you. Return now every one from his evil way, and make your ways and your doings good.” ’ ”

Remember back in grade school when we had that pottery unit? For weeks, art class was dominated by clay. Rolling it out, centering it on the wheel, and getting it to make some recognizable shape. I remember my first couple of times sitting behind the wheel. My little lump of clay wobbled and fell over and ended up looking more like a pancake than a pot. Even when I finally managed to raise the walls, they were uneven and cracked. The thing that I made was rough, misshapen, and, honestly, embarrassing.

But one day, they brought in an expert. He was a master potter, and he gave us a demonstration. I remember standing there watching his hands. He sat at the same wheel we were using, but the clay in his hands seemed alive. He pressed and tugged, and what had started as a plain old lump quickly became the smooth, even shape of a vase.

And here's the thing that really struck me: when he came over to help us, he didn't just tell us what to do. He put his hands right on top of ours. Suddenly, the clay, which had seemed like nothing more than a child's crude attempt, began to take shape. The difference wasn't in the clay; it was in the hands that were shaping it.

That's the picture God gave to Jeremiah. "Go down to the potter's house," the Lord said, "and there I will give you My word" (Jer. 18:2). Jeremiah went and watched and saw the same thing: clay in the hands of a potter. The clay was just a lump, and it was flawed. But the potter didn't just toss it out. He pressed it down, wet it again, and began shaping it into something new. And then God said, "As clay in the hand of the potter, so are you in My hand, O house of Israel" (v. 6).

The timing of this revelation is important. Jeremiah's life was not easy. God's people had turned away. They were entrenched in idolatry and injustice, rejecting God's covenant and hardening their hearts. Babylon, the very symbol of judgment, lay ahead. In the middle of all of this, God does not just thunder from heaven. He brings Jeremiah down to a pottery shop. He gives a picture. He reminds His people, "I am still the Potter." You're still the clay. I am not done with you—but you must submit to My hands."

That picture should speak to us today. Because, honestly, we all know what it feels like to be marred clay. Our lives wobble. They topple. Sometimes it's because of our sin—choices we regret, habits that scar us, or pride that causes us to be unbalanced. Grief, loss, and suffering can leave us broken and fragile. Sometimes it's just weakness, that nagging feeling that no matter how hard we try, we can't get the shape just right.

But here's the good news: the Potter does not toss aside the clay. He does not abandon us when we stumble. His hands are patient, steady, and purposeful. And when His hands come upon our lives, like that master's did on mine, the rough, misshapen lump begins to take form.

There's also a challenge here. Clay doesn't shape itself. And clay cannot resist the potter without consequence. If it hardens, it cannot be molded. If it rebels, it cannot take the shape that the potter intended. That's why this picture is both comforting and convicting. It's comforting to know that failure doesn't have to be the end. Sobering, to know that fighting the Potter's hands makes us brittle, broken, and useless.

Isn't that the very question before us? Will we resist or submit? Will we resist the Potter's hands and insist on our own way? Will we let Him shape us into vessels for His purposes?

This morning we're going to go with Jeremiah into the Potter's House. We'll see the wheel turning, the clay being worked, and the Potter's masterful hands carefully shaping the shape. Then we'll hear Jesus' invitation in Luke 14 to count the cost of discipleship.

When we walk into the potter's house with Jeremiah, we will notice that God's hands are firmly upon the wheel; He knows exactly what He's doing. We'll also see that the clay has a choice: submit to His touch or fight and harden. Then we'll hear Jesus' own words, which remind us that following Him is costly—it requires surrender—but it's worth it. And, in the end, we'll behold the beauty of God's purpose: He's making us into vessels that carry and reflect His glory.

Let's go to the Potter's House with Jeremiah. Let us stand behind the Potter and watch as the wheel begins to spin, as the clay turns beneath the Potter's gentle hands. Let's listen, because God isn't just teaching Jeremiah about Israel's past; He's also showing us a picture of how He works in our lives today. And the first thing we notice is that the Potter's hands are always on the clay.

God’s Hands at the Wheel (Jeremiah 18:1–6)

Jeremiah paints the scene with a few quick brush strokes. The potter is seated at the wheel. He has some clay and he’s making a vessel. The wheel is spinning. The vessel shatters—it’s marred. But the potter is not frustrated. He doesn’t throw the clay away. He works it with his hands. Patiently. Until he’s molded it into another shape, into another vessel. Into whatever it is the potter intends it to be. And then God says: “Like clay in the hand of the potter, so are you in My hand, O house of Israel” (v. 6).

The image is from another time and place, but it’s the story of our lives. And as we examine it closely, we see at least three truths about the Potter and His hands on the wheel: He is intentional, He is patient, and He is sovereign.

The first truth is that God is intentional.

Clay doesn’t shape itself. It doesn’t hop onto the wheel and say, “I think I’ll be a vase today.” On its own, clay remains a lump. Only the potter has a vision for what it can become.

That’s true of us as well. Your life is not random. The turns and twists of your journey have not been wasted. God has a design for you. A purpose He’s molding you toward. As Paul wrote in Ephesians 2: 10: “We are His workmanship, created in Christ Jesus for good works, which God prepared beforehand for us to walk in.”

Workmanship. Think about that word. In the Greek, it’s poiema, the root for our word poem. You are God’s poem. His artwork. His vessel. He is not haphazard in how He forms you. His hands are intentional. 

I remember my first pottery class in grade school. I had no idea what I was doing. My “vision” of what my clay should become was fuzzy at best. But when the expert sat down at the wheel in front of me—you could see it in his eyes—he already knew what he wanted that lump to become. He wasn’t randomly tinkering with it. Every touch of his hands was purposeful. That’s what God is like with us. He doesn’t guess. He has a vision for our lives. 

Maybe today you feel like your life is spinning in circles, like the wheel just keeps turning but nothing is taking shape. Friend, the Potter is intentional. He knows what He’s doing even when you don’t see it yet.

The second truth is that God is patient.

Jeremiah observed something important: The clay was marred in the potter’s hands. It wasn’t perfect. It crumbled. But the potter didn’t toss it aside. He didn’t fling it against the wall. He pressed it back down. Added water. And began again. 

Aren’t you glad God treats us that way? When we falter, when we crumble under pressure, when sin mars us—He doesn’t toss us aside. He reshapes us. He begins again. That’s grace. 

Think of Peter. He swore he’d never deny Jesus, but by morning he denied Him three times. Marred clay. Crumbled vessel. Yet the Potter didn’t discard him. After the resurrection, Jesus commissioned him: “Feed my sheep.” The Potter’s hands reworked him into a vessel of leadership and courage.

When my expert potter pressed his hands over mine, the clay started to take shape. But even then it wasn’t perfect. Sometimes the walls collapsed. But he never scolded me for failing. He simply pressed the clay down. Re-centered it. And helped me begin again. That patience is what God offers us. 

Maybe today you feel like you’re a failed attempt. Maybe you’ve stumbled in your faith. Maybe you carry shame for choices you regret. Friend, the Potter hasn’t thrown you aside. He is patient. He is willing to begin again. 

The third truth is that God is sovereign.

The clay doesn’t get to dictate its purpose. The clay doesn’t say, “Make me a vase, not a bowl.” The potter decides. Jeremiah is clear: “Like clay in the hand of the potter, so are you in My hand.”

Humbling isn’t it? We like to think we’re in control of our destiny. But Romans 9: 21 reminds us: “Does not the potter have power over the clay, from the same lump to make one vessel for honor and another for dishonor?”

Sovereignty doesn’t mean God is harsh or arbitrary. It means He knows better than we do. He knows where your gifts fit. He knows what role you’re meant to play in His kingdom. And surrendering to His sovereignty is not a loss—it’s where true freedom lies.

Think of a violin. If the violin insisted on being used as a hammer, it would shatter quickly. But when it surrenders to the hands of the musician, it produces music that fills the room. That’s what it means to yield to God’s sovereignty. You were made for His purpose, not your own.

Where are you insisting on your own way? Where are you telling God, “Shape me this way, not that way”? The Potter knows better. Yield to His design. 

One last detail to notice: Have you ever watched a potter at work? Do you know their hands are always wet? Without water, the clay hardens. It resists the Potter’s hands. That water is like the Holy Spirit. He keeps us pliable. Without Him, our hearts dry out. With Him, we remain soft. Supple. Ready to be shaped. 

If you feel your heart growing hard, ask the Spirit to pour His living water over you. Stay in prayer. Stay in Scripture. Stay in worship. Those are the ways the Spirit keeps us pliable in the Potter’s hands.

So far in Jeremiah’s vision we have the Potter’s hands—intentional, patient, sovereign, steady at the wheel. But the vision doesn’t end there. Because as comforting as it is to know that God is at work shaping us, there is also a sobering truth: clay has a choice. It can yield to the Potter’s hands, or it can resist and harden. And that is where Jeremiah is leading us next.

The Choice Before Us

If Jeremiah’s first lesson in the potter’s house is about the Potter’s hands, the second lesson is about the clay’s response.

The picture was comforting up to this point: God is intentional, patient, and sovereign. His hands are steady. But then God explains the vision. He says that just as the potter can reshape clay into another vessel, so He can deal with nations and people. If He announces judgment but they repent, He relents. If He promises blessing but they rebel, He withholds it.

In other words: the clay has a choice.

This is not just poetry. This is a warning. God says in Jeremiah 18:11, “Turn now, each of you, from your evil ways, and reform your ways and your actions.” The wheel is turning. The Potter’s hands are working. But the clay must remain soft, or it will harden beyond reshaping.

That’s the danger, isn’t it? Clay that stays soft can be reshaped again and again. But once it hardens—once it’s fired—it’s set. If it’s misshapen at that point, there’s no fixing it. It either fulfills its purpose as-is, or it shatters.

This is why the prophet pleads with the people. He’s saying, “Don’t wait until your heart is too hard. Yield to God while there’s still time.”

We face the same choice today. Will we yield to God’s hands or resist Him? Will we repent or will we harden?

Moses put it plainly centuries earlier in Deuteronomy 30: “See, I set before you today life and prosperity, death and destruction… now choose life, so that you and your children may live” (vv. 15, 19). It doesn’t get clearer than that.

God’s shaping is not automatic. His promises are not magic. We must choose. And repentance is the way we stay soft in His hands.

Think of wet cement. When it’s first poured, you can smooth it, shape it, even leave your handprint in it. But once it sets, it’s done. It becomes hard, unchangeable.

Our hearts are like that. When we’re open, when we’re listening, when we’re humble, God can shape us. But if we resist—if we keep ignoring His voice, excusing our sin, pushing Him away—our hearts harden. And the longer they harden, the harder it becomes to change.

That’s why Scripture so often says, “Today, if you hear His voice, do not harden your hearts” (Ps. 95:7–8; Heb. 3:15).

Have you ever noticed how, at first, sin bothers us? The Spirit convicts us, and we feel uneasy. Maybe we lose sleep. Our conscience nags at us. But if we ignore that conviction long enough, something happens. The guilt grows quieter. The voice of conscience fades. What once felt sharp begins to dull. Before long, we find ourselves saying, “It just doesn’t bother me anymore.” That’s not freedom—that’s hardness of heart.

That’s what happens when we resist the Potter’s hands. We may think we’re fine, but in reality, we’re brittle, fragile, set in the wrong shape.

But here’s the good news: clay that is marred can still be reshaped—if it stays soft. If you turn back to God, if you repent, He can begin again. That’s why Jeremiah’s word, though sobering, is ultimately hopeful. God isn’t saying, “It’s too late.” He’s saying, “Come back. Yield. Let Me remake you.”

Think of Nineveh in Jonah’s day. God announced judgment. Forty days and the city would be destroyed. But they repented. They fasted. They humbled themselves. And God relented. The Potter reshaped the vessel.

Repentance keeps us pliable. Repentance keeps us on the wheel.

So let me ask you: where is God pressing on your life right now? Where is He saying, “That attitude has to change”? Where is He saying, “That habit cannot stay”? Where is He saying, “That relationship needs healing”?

You have a choice. You can yield, or you can resist. You can stay soft, or you can harden.

If you yield, His hands will reshape you into something better.

If you resist, your heart grows hard, and the cracks only deepen.

And here’s the urgency: the time to yield is now. Don’t wait until you’ve hardened. Don’t wait until regret is all that’s left. The Potter’s wheel is spinning, His hands are ready, but the choice is yours.

There’s an old story of a boy who visited a potter’s workshop. He picked up a hardened clay pot that was misshapen and asked, “Can you fix this one?” The potter shook his head. “It’s already been fired. It will always be like that.” Then the potter picked up a lump of soft clay and said, “But this one—I can still make it into anything I choose.”

Friends, don’t let your life become like the fired pot, set in its flaws. Stay like the soft clay, ready to be reshaped by the hands of the Master.

So far, Jeremiah has shown us the Potter’s hands and the choice before the clay. But the vision of the potter doesn’t stop there. Centuries later, Jesus picks up the same theme in even sharper terms. He tells us what it really means to stay on the wheel. And His words are not easy—they’re costly. They remind us that to be shaped by God, we must surrender everything.

The Cost of Discipleship (Luke 14:25–33)

If Jeremiah shows us the Potter’s hands and the clay’s response, Jesus takes it further: the third lesson is about the cost of discipleship—surrendering all to be shaped by Him.

When we left Jeremiah’s vision, we saw the clay on the wheel. God’s hands were steady, but the clay had a choice—yield or resist. Now, centuries later, Jesus picks up that same theme and sharpens it. Luke tells us that large crowds were following Him. These weren’t just the Twelve; these were masses of curious, excited people. They loved the miracles. They were intrigued by His teaching. They were drawn to His presence.

But Jesus wasn’t looking for fans. He was looking for disciples. And so He turned to the crowd and said words that still shock us today: “If anyone comes to me and does not hate father and mother, wife and children, brothers and sisters—yes, even their own life—such a person cannot be my disciple. And whoever does not carry their cross and follow me cannot be my disciple” (Luke 14:26–27).

Those are hard words. They don’t sound like a recruitment pitch. But Jesus is making it clear: following Him is costly. It demands everything. Just as clay cannot tell the potter, “Shape me this way, but not that way,” we cannot tell Jesus, “I’ll follow You here, but not there.”

To make His point, Jesus gives two everyday illustrations. He talks about a man building a tower. If he doesn’t sit down first and calculate the cost, he may lay the foundation and not be able to finish. People will laugh at him. He also talks about a king going to war. If he doesn’t first consider whether his 10,000 soldiers can stand against 20,000, he’ll be destroyed.

In both cases, the principle is the same: count the cost before you begin. Don’t rush into discipleship thinking it’s easy. Don’t assume the Potter’s shaping will always feel comfortable. It won’t. But it will always be worth it.

Back in my grade school pottery class, I remember one lump of clay that gave me fits. No matter how much I tried to center it, it wobbled. When I pressed it, it resisted. It seemed to have a mind of its own. I tried shaping it into a bowl, but it kept collapsing. Finally, the expert came over, pressed his hands firmly over mine, and said, “You’ve got to give it all. Half-pressure won’t do. You’ve got to surrender completely to the wheel, or it’ll never take shape.”

That’s what Jesus is saying. Half-pressure won’t do. Half-hearted surrender won’t make you a disciple. The clay must yield completely, or the Potter cannot shape it.

Notice that Jesus doesn’t sugarcoat what surrender looks like. He says, “Whoever does not carry their cross and follow me cannot be my disciple” (v. 27).

In His day, the cross wasn’t jewelry or decoration. It was an instrument of death. Carrying the cross meant walking to your execution. It meant saying goodbye to your old life. That’s what Jesus calls us to. Discipleship means dying to ourselves—our plans, our preferences, our pride—so that we can live for Him.

Paul captures it in Galatians 2:20: “I have been crucified with Christ and I no longer live, but Christ lives in me.”

So what does this mean for us?

For some, it might mean surrendering relationships that pull you away from Christ.

For others, it might mean letting go of possessions, priorities, or ambitions that compete with Him.

For all of us, it means taking up the cross daily—choosing obedience over comfort, holiness over compromise, trust over self-reliance.

Jesus says in verse 33, “Those of you who do not give up everything you have cannot be my disciples.” That doesn’t mean every disciple must literally sell every possession. But it does mean nothing can be off-limits. Everything we have—family, money, career, future—must be surrendered to Him.

Yes, the cost is high. But so is the reward. The clay may resist the pressure of the Potter’s hands, but only in yielding does it become a vessel of beauty and purpose. The disciple may feel the loss of surrender, but only in surrender do we find true life. Jesus Himself said in Matthew 16:25: “Whoever wants to save their life will lose it, but whoever loses their life for me will find it.”

So, Jeremiah shows us the Potter’s hands. The clay’s response reminds us of the urgency of repentance. Jesus tells us about the cost of discipleship—that to be shaped, we must surrender everything. But that raises one more question: what’s the end result? If we yield to the Potter’s hands, if we repent, if we surrender—what is God shaping us into? That’s the final lesson.

The Shaped Vessel (Jeremiah 18; 2 Corinthians 4:7)

And finally, if the first lessons are about the Potter’s hands, the clay’s response, and the cost of discipleship, the last lesson is about the shaped vessel: what God makes of a life fully yielded to Him.

The potter doesn’t shape clay for no reason. Every vessel has a purpose—some hold water, some store grain, some carry light. Each reflects the potter’s vision and skill.

In the same way, God shapes us for His purposes. He shapes us to bear His image and to serve His mission in the world. Paul says it this way in 2 Corinthians 4:7: “We have this treasure in jars of clay, to show that the surpassing power belongs to God and not to us.” We are fragile vessels, yes, but we carry the treasure of Christ. Our weakness only highlights His strength.

In Japan, when pottery breaks, it’s repaired with gold in an art form called kintsugi. The cracks don’t disappear; they’re filled, highlighted, and transformed into beauty. The repaired vessel is more valuable than before. That’s what God does with us. He takes our cracks and failures and fills them with His grace.

Yield to God’s correction instead of resisting.

Repent where you’ve hardened your heart.

Trust that He is shaping you for something greater than you can see right now.

So the vision comes full circle. The Potter’s hands are steady. The clay has a choice. Discipleship comes at a cost. But the end result is a vessel shaped for God’s glory and filled with His Spirit.

Conclusion

We’ve stood with Jeremiah in the potter’s house. We’ve heard the wheel turning and seen the clay in the Potter’s hands. And along the way, we’ve learned four lessons.

The first lesson was about the Potter’s hands — steady, intentional, patient, and sovereign.

The second lesson was about the clay’s response — will we yield or will we resist?

The third lesson was about the cost of discipleship — Jesus calls us to surrender everything, to carry our cross, to let the Potter shape us fully.

The fourth lesson was about the shaped vessel — God forms us into something beautiful and useful, vessels that carry His glory and His mission.

Four lessons. One vision. And one question remains: Will you yield?

The truth is, every one of us is clay. The only difference is whether we are soft or hardened. Soft clay can be reshaped. Hardened clay resists. The Potter’s wheel is spinning, His hands are steady, His Spirit is present. But the choice of how we respond is ours.

I once heard of a potter who displayed both his finest works and his failures. On one shelf were perfect bowls and vases, shining and whole. On another were cracked and collapsed pieces, reminders of the process. But then, in the center, he displayed something unique: a vessel that had collapsed but been reworked into something entirely different — not what he first envisioned, but still beautiful, still useful. He said, “This one reminds me that no piece of clay is wasted, as long as it’s still in my hands.”

That’s God’s word to you today: You are not wasted clay. You are not beyond His hands. If you will yield, He can and will reshape you.

So, will you yield to the Potter?

Will you let Him press on the places that need correction?

Will you soften where your heart has grown hard?

Will you count the cost and say, “Yes, Lord, shape me however You will”?

Don’t leave the wheel unfinished. Don’t harden your heart. Don’t resist the Potter’s touch.

Instead, surrender. Yield. Place your life fully in His hands. Because His hands are steady. His vision is sure. And the vessel He is shaping you into will carry His glory into the world.

Let this be our prayer today, not just in words but in heart:

“Have Thine own way, Lord. Have Thine own way. Thou art the Potter, I am the clay. Mold me and make me, after Thy will, while I am waiting, yielded and still.”

Amen.