When you’re being de-pressed

I’d called her recently, needing insight, seeking wisdom. And she, she dug right in, saying it plain.

“Do you know what it is?” she asked. “There is a clinical depression, but I’m not talking about that.” I nodded my head.

She went on. “Back when I was a baby Christian, the Lord showed me what it was.”

I stood rooted, listening with heart and ears alike to this woman, once an atheist, who’s being used in my training.

“He showed me a lump of clay, and He poured some water over it. And He said, ‘How much water can this hold?’ And I said, ‘Not much, Lord.’”

There it was, clear and bright as day in my mind’s eye. Hand reaching down, pitcher pouring, lump hard, not receiving.

She went on. “Then He put His thumb in it and pressed it down. He said, ‘Now how much can it hold, April?’ And I said, ‘Only up to the indentation.’”

I knew where this is going. Felt the truth of it sinking in, taking root. “Then I saw His hand, fingers pressing, molding, shaping, not taking anything away from the lump, but re-forming it.”

The light that came was sure and true. The recent testing I’d been facing. Every trial I’d endured. Each struggle I’d encountered. All the pressure that I’d felt…

It was Him. His hand at work, pressing down, pressing in, molding, shaping and transforming my heart so that it could hold more.

More living water. More life . More joy and peace. More, my friend, of Christ.

In a season of death and pressure, this has been my choice–I will let it do its work. Rather, I will let Him do His work. I embrace the molding. Embrace the shaping. Embrace with thankfulness His hand at work in this lump of clay, transforming, re-making and de-pressing.

For life, for joy, for Him,

Rhonda