The Vessel Collection

Clay does not come from clean places. It is found buried, beneath dirt, debris, and layers of untouched earth. It does not present itself easily; it must be discovered. Once found, skilled hands must reach into the ground, dig deep, and pull the clay from the darkness where it was hiding. It is messy. It is gritty. Yet this messy beginning is where something sacred starts.

Is this not how God finds us?

Not in a polished place. Not standing tall and put together, but buried. Hidden. Cracked in all the wrong places. What the world called broken, the Potter saw as usable.

Before clay ever touches a potter’s wheel, it must be prepared. Every rock, every root, every hard impurity must be removed. Sometimes the clay is soaked in water and filtered. At other times, it is dried, ground and sifted. It is scraped and shaken, crushed and strained. It is a necessary pain because if those hidden flaws remain, they will show up later when the heat rises.

After the extraction and purifying process, the clay is wedged, which is a process of the Potter pressing, pushing and kneading the lump. This part is tedious and exhausting. The goal is to remove air pockets, to distribute moisture evenly, and to ensure the clay is ready for shaping. If this part is skipped or rushed, the vessel will crack or explode in the kiln. What feels repetitive is really foundational. The unseen resistance is what protects the clay when the fire comes.

Then, finally, the clay is placed on the potter’s wheel. Molding begins.

The Potter begins to shape. Stretching. Applying pressure. Adjusting. There are moments when the clay rises with ease and others when it falls flat. The potter remains, hands steady. Through every wobble, every shift, every tremble of weakness, the potter keeps forming, keeps correcting. He knows what He’s doing and how to carefully maneuver his tools to get the most beautifully unique and useful vessel to meet his needs. 

But the process isn’t over.

Once the vessel is molded, it must dry. Drying: a process that can seem lonely but is crucial to the integrity of the final vessel’s strength. It’s then trimmed, scraped and sanded. Next comes the glaze, a coating of beauty and strength, painted on with intention. Still, the glaze itself reveals nothing… until the fire.

Because only the fire shows what has been forming all along.

Inside the kiln, the vessel is tested. It faces heat hotter than it ever imagined. This is the refining fire. This is where integrity is proven. This is where beauty emerges. What seemed plain begins to shine. What looked ordinary becomes stunning.

And the best part? The Potter never leaves the vessel in the fire longer than necessary. He watches. He waits. He knows just how long it needs to endure the heat to reach its full potential of reflecting the Potter’s plan and dream for the vessel.

When people admire a finished piece of pottery, they usually do not think about the process it took to get there. They just see the beauty. The color. The design. They do not see the extraction, the molding, the firing, but only the usage. But make no mistake: every beautiful vessel has a story it wants to tell.

This book is not just a telling of my story but of the mindset God had to shape within me through that story. I call it a vessel mindset. It is a way of seeing suffering not as punishment but as preparation. A vessel mindset asks, “What can God do with this?” Instead of “Why is this happening to me?” It stands in direct opposition to a victim mindset. A victim mindset is paralyzing and anxiety-ridden; it keeps you stuck in the belief that your life is defined by what happened to you rather than what God can do through you. It focuses on loss instead of possibility and on control instead of surrender. A victim mindset whispers, I am powerless. I am alone. Nothing can change until other people change. It interprets pain as abandonment and convinces you that hope is dangerous. But a vessel mindset sees the same pain and asks a different question. It leans in rather than shuts down. Let me be clear: life has victimized me. I have walked through suffering I did not choose and would never have written into my own story. So have you. Abuse, betrayal, sickness, grief, and loss are familiar to all of us. But there is a difference between being a victim of circumstance and choosing a victim mentality. One acknowledges the reality of what happened, while the other allows it to define who you are. A vessel mindset does not deny the wound but refuses to let the wound have the final word. It believes that even if I had not chosen this, God can still choose to use me through it. As the great theologian Rafiki from The Lion King said, “Oh yes, the past can hurt. But you can either run from it or learn from it.”

The word “vessel” has two powerful definitions. Webster’s Dictionary says a vessel is “a person into whom some quality (such as grace) is infused” and also “a container for holding something.” Combine those, and you get a clear picture: a person, poured into by God, with unique characteristics only He can give, designed to carry something holy and pour it back out.

A vessel mindset is not about pretending you are okay. It is about believing that even when you are not okay, God is still at work. He is still forming, still refining, still present. The shaping hurts, and the fire burns, but the Potter never wastes His process. A victim mindset focuses on the pain as the end of the story. A vessel mindset recognizes the pain as part of the story God is writing. It trusts that every pressure has a shaping purpose and every season of brokenness is preparing you to carry something greater. It shifts the focus from self-preservation to divine intention. It does not deny reality; it redefines it in light of God’s sovereignty. The vessel does not get to choose the fire, but it can choose to trust the Potter.

The Bible says it this way in Isaiah 64:8 (ESV):

“But now, O Lord, you are our Father; we are the clay, and you are our potter; we are all the work of your hand.”

This book is for every person who’s ever wondered, “Is anything good going to come out of this?”
It’s for the one who’s still in the refining.
Still pressing.
Still on the wheel.
Still in the fire.

You are not alone. And you’re not finished.

My prayer is that as you read through the chapters ahead, you will not only hear my story but you will start to see your own. That you will reflect on your journey, your scars, your fires… and begin to wonder if maybe, just maybe, the Potter is forming something beautiful in you too. Preparing and calling you to have a mindset shift from Victim to Vessel.

You were not made to live in survival mode.
You were made to carry something sacred.
You were not made to stay buried.
You were made to be shaped, fired, and filled.

You were made to be a vessel.