(Written Nov. 15, 2011)

I taught today at the Women of Hope meeting.  I taught on Isaiah 64:8.  My devotion translated very easily and the women understood what I was talking about.  That was very pleasing.

My teaching actually came about rather by accident.  Or maybe design by God.  I’m not really sure which.  When I was making arrangements for my trip my sister, Gretchen, casually mentioned to me that I might have to teach something one day.  If I didn’t I would be paying a fee to spend the night on the YWAM base.  Now I was just fine with paying the fee.  I’m not a teacher.  (Except for the 19 or so years I homeschooled my kids, but that’s a different matter all together.)  On my flight from Houston to Amsterdam I started thinking about what I would do if I actually did have to teach.  I was going on an agriculturally based “mission”,  and although I have an agricultural background I am certainly not as up to date on the field as the Tates are.  Somewhere over the Atlantic a loud booming voice accompanied by lighting bolts and rolls of thunder proclaimed, “Marcelyn, write this down.”   Okay, so maybe it was a still small voice but the effect was the same.  I started writing and ended up with a teaching based on something that I know.  Something I can relate to.  Pottery.

“But now, O Lord, You are our Father,

We are the clay, and You our potter;

And all of us are the work of Your hand.”

Isaiah 64:8

I specifically talked about how the making of pottery isn’t a simple thing.  It takes time.  It takes a plan.  It takes an effort.  It involves many steps.  It isn’t fast and it isn’t easy.  God working in our lives isn’t always a “poof” and you’re done proposition.  Sometimes it takes time and many steps.  I went through the steps of making a pot from taking the clay from the ground to the final firing and compared each step to a step in our personal growth with God.  It worked.

The day I taught Gretchen had planned to teach on how to make compost but there was an emergency in the village and several of the women were not there.  Then when they did show up there wasn’t enough time to do the compost teaching.  I had been sitting there idly putting my writings down in a more concrete manner and it just seemed the perfect time to share and lead the devotion for the day.  And I was actually ready.  Thanks to God.

I found out in Ugandan I am a maboomba. (potter)

In Russian I am a “goncharnaya”.  I think maboomba sounds like more fun.

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4 Responses to Maboomba

  1. Cathe says:

    Marcelyn the Maboomba – It sounds like a good teaching. I thought of something re: the pottery analogy. Making pottery is expensive. It’s not a cheap or easy thing to do. Not something you can just do as a fun little hobby. You have to invest in it. God invested time, energy and love into us. He paid the ultimate price for us, too.

    I enjoy reading about your trip.

  2. Gretchen says:

    You forgot to say the the teaching was very well received and that I thought that it should be a regular teaching from now on! You did amazing!

  3. AmeliaJake says:

    Ah, Maboomba. I do so want to be respectful; you are doing so many good things. It is a word in a language and you know how I value language. So why did I read your post and feel as if I had been given a new little toy? Maboomba. Because I can’t help being me, that’s why. I have taken a deep breath and will try to get past this. Maybe I will be taking deep breaths all day . . .

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