You might ask me: what do I know about clay, writing all these modest messages on clay tablets? And as a son of a properse Afrikaans pa, I will tell you that it is fun to play with clay—not the coloured clay from kindergarten. No, the real clay you find next to a river, if you are lucky enough to have access to a farm. The kind of clay we use as ammunition to launch from one side of the river to the other using wilger latte. It’s also that same clay that gets sculpted into either overly obese cattle or scrawny cows that haven’t eaten for days, using pendorings to stick horns on our clay creatures.
But today, I am writing a letter about a kind of clay I have only seen on television. This message is for all the fathers who have sons playing with clay.
Dear father, imagine a Master Potter handing you a piece of soft, unformed clay of the absolute highest quality—the real clay. This clay is destined to become a prized vessel in the King’s own house. He doesn’t hand it to you lightly. He places it in your calloused hands, looks you squarely in the eye, and says, “Shape this for me. I trust you.”
That is exactly what God did the day He made you a father. He entrusted you with a son, a Kingdom heir.
But here is the hard truth many fathers miss, a truth that leaves our hands shaking and our homes anxious: You cannot shape the King’s clay if you despise the hands holding it.
As men, we are often taught that a good father sacrifices everything. We bleed, we sweat, and we run ourselves dry like rats on a wheel to provide and protect. We think it is noble to put ourselves last, to the point of self-rejection. We look in the mirror and see only our failures, our history, and our shortcomings, believing our striving is a badge of honour to cover our brokenness.
But when you refuse to love yourself, you are unknowingly rejecting the very tools God gave you for that prestigious pottery job. You cannot introduce your son to a loving, grace-filled Heavenly Father if you are still living like a condemned orphan in His house.
When God gave you a son (or daughter), He wasn’t just giving you a responsibility. He was giving you a revelation of your own worth.
Think about it: A King does not entrust His most prized possessions to an enemy, a failure, or a servant He despises. He entrusts them to His beloved. When Jesus placed that boy in your life, He was making a profound declaration about you: He trusts you. He sees your destiny, not just your history. The entrustment itself is an act of relentless love.
To love yourself the way Jesus loves you is not pride or selfishness. It is simply agreement. It is having the courage to look at your own life and say, “If the Maker of the Universe trusts me with His child, I must be worth accepting His love—and accepting it with great honour.”
A father who does not love himself is like a dry, cracked pipe trying to water a vineyard. You can push and strain all you want, but you can only give what flows through you. Eventually, the pipe bursts under the pressure.
But a father who knows he is a deeply loved son of God becomes a reservoir. He allows the love of his Heavenly Father to pour into him daily. He speaks grace over his own life. He lets the water rise until his own soul is completely full.
And then? He doesn’t have to force it. He simply lets the overflow water his son. You cannot teach your son how to walk as a beloved heir of the Kingdom if he watches you walk like a slave.
Let’s not just talk about these things the way I would talk about pottery. It is time to get our hands dirty with the clay that we ourselves are made of. Take a long, hard moment today to confront the truth of how you view yourself.
- Check Your Echo: Listen to the voice in your head when you make a mistake. Would you ever speak to your son the way you speak to yourself? If the answer is no, it is time to repent. Choose today to extend the same fierce grace to yourself that you desire for your boy.
- Own the Entrustment: Find a quiet moment, sit with the Lord, and ask Him this specific question: “Father, what did You see in me when You decided to trust me with my son?” Write down what the Holy Spirit highlights. Stop arguing with His choice.
- Fill the Reservoir: Do one thing this week that replenishes your soul and brings you joy. Stop viewing rest or self-care as “selfish.” Treat it as necessary maintenance for a vessel of God. You are filling the reservoir so your family can drink from the overflow.
Take up the Master’s clay, but first, let the Master’s love soften your own heart.
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