[A note from our Managing Editor: Tim Shorey, pastor and author, is one of our Gospel-Centered Discipleship staff writers. Tim is also currently battling stage 4 prostate cancer. On Facebook and CaringBridge, he’s writing about his journey. We’re including some of his posts in a series on our website called “The Potter’s Clay: Faith Reflections from a Cancer Oven.” To preserve the feel of a daily journal rather than a published work, we have chosen not to submit these reflections to a rigorous editing process.]

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A little more than three years ago I posted on Facebook the simple words, “He is the Potter. I am the clay” as a simple declaration of my faith. Much to my surprise, that plain and unadorned post prompted more positive reactions than I had received over many previous months. It made me wonder why those simple words struck a chord in people’s hearts.

I choose to believe it says something about genuine believers’ self- and God-awareness while in life’s trying times. Down deep God’s sincere and humble people seem to resonate with, and to live quietly and contentedly aware of, this truth: our life—with whatever its shattering events, squeezing pressures, and scorching heat—is being crafted and secured by the holding and molding hand of God.

Leastways, that is why I posted those words. I declared that simple statement of faith on May 30, 2022, because two days before that, I had been diagnosed with cancer—and just a couple of weeks after experiencing a mini-stroke. The cancer was said to be “high-grade and highly aggressive,” the kind that is usually, if not always incurable, but might be treatable.

What exactly “highly aggressive” meant I didn’t fully understand, and I still don’t. Further testing revealed that I had stage four cancer with cancer lesions scattered into five places in my bones. The various tests done, along with my family history (my father, mother, sister, brother, and son have all had cancer), led to a grim-sounding prognosis.

My life—so full of God’s abounding blessings in family and ministry—suddenly felt suspended in limbo. As a dark cloud of uncertainty hovered overhead, I felt like my feet were “firmly planted in mid-air” (to echo Francis Schaeffer).

One thing I did know correctly is that unless divinely healed (which God most assuredly can do at any time), I would be visiting doctors for years to come. And I knew, too, that debilitating and quality-of-life-diminishing treatments were stretching out before me as far as my eye could see. And I didn’t know the half of it.

Blessing God Either Way

Truth be told, I didn’t know the outcome then; nor do I really know the outcome now. I believed in healing, and still do. But I also believe in a God whose ways are too mysterious and marvelous for me (Job 42:1–3; Psa. 131:1). Of this I remain certain: he gives and he takes away, and his name is to be blessed either way (Job 1:21).

Blessing God in my cancer became easier the moment the Lord reminded me of his love through Isaiah— “But now o LORD, you are our Father. We are the clay, and you are the Potter. We are all the work of your hand” (Isa. 64:8). I knew I had found in these words what would become the theme of my cancer story, regardless of where the journey led.

Five Precious Reminders

There are five precious reminders that are packed into Isaiah’s 25 words, reminders that I clung to three years ago, and hold onto still today:

1. My God is also my Father and Potter. Because of this duo role relationship, I know that my God is a Father who loves me and is sovereignly molding my life. It is also why I know that whatever he does will be right, good, loving, needed, perfect, and everlastingly wonderful—which is all the comfort I need, no matter what comes my way.

2. My Father is my Potter, and I am the clay. That I am the clay means—and it was surprisingly comforting to realize this, once I surrendered to it—that I am not my own, and that I am his to do with as he wills. And since I belong to him as his cherished treasure, I know that he will never do me harm.

3. My Father is an artist, and I am his handiwork. I am the “work” of his hand. “Work” is a word used elsewhere for skillful craftwork, needlework, engraving, and the weaving of a beautiful tapestry. God my Potter isn’t just making me, he’s crafting and beautifying me.

4. As a Potter, my Father knows how to make and mold. We are clay being molded into form and beauty, a thought that implies that he has a beautiful design in mind. This means that everything in my life has a purpose, and is shaping me to that end.

5. My Father knows how to make and mold with his touching hand. It is his hand that is shaping me now; not the pounding of a hammer or the cutting of a saw or the impersonal devastating blow of a distant fatalistic decree. My Father is holding and molding me with a firm but gentle hand.

It’s been three years and 13 days since my diagnosis came in. I will not lie. The treatments have radically altered me and reduced my quality of life. I am always weak, always tired, always in pain,  and seemingly always a few short moments away from a good cry. I feel like a very large and limp dishrag.

But as hard as the treatments have been, they have stalled my cancer for the time being. Doctors are telling me that my cancer cannot be cured, which is why my treatments need to continue; but that it can be treated, which is why my cancer has temporarily gone into hiding. Apart from God’s healing, the cancer will remain. But because of his love, the cancer has been beaten back, which means that I may well have a longer lease on life than earlier expected.

But here is the truth: whatever the outcome I am safe in the Potter’s hand, where he will do me no harm. And all these truths are the birthright of every true child of God, whatever our losses and crosses in life. They are our strength, our hope, and our song. And since life in this age is irreparably broken apart from the Potter’s hand, we would do well to draw near in simple trust, in knowing that our Father-Potter cares deeply for us all. And when he has put the final finishing touches on our spirits and bodies, all the saints and angels will bow before him in wonder over the work of his hands.

* You can read all the posts in this series here.