The Pain of the
Shaping
By now you've realized that the Master Potter is deeply involved in each one of us. Before we acknowledge Him and submit to His shaping, He is the "Hound of Heaven," pursuing us in love. Once we submit our lives to Him, the shaping begins in earnest.
When a human potter begins to work with the lump of clay on the wheel, the initial changes are the most radical. After all, the lump is rather shapeless. Only after this radical reshaping can you begin to see what the lump of clay might become.
That initial stage in our lives is described in Psalm 139:15 -16:
My frame was not hidden from You, When I was made in secret, And skillfully wrought in the lowest parts of the earth. Your eyes saw my substance, being yet unformed.
That's what God starts with — an unformed person.
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Yet there is no doubt in my mind that when God begins that original fashioning, He most assuredly has an overall plan in mind for our development. Because He has known the end since the beginning, He already knew just how much tempering would be needed to complete the vessel He envisioned. The Master Potter is indeed skillful, and His plan is perfect.
Yet beyond our initial shaping, so we can eventually become the people He wants us to be, the Master Potter often has to engage in major shaping along the way that is quite painful. That seems to be particularly true with those of us who acknowledge Him as Lord only in adulthood. While we were going our own way, running our own lives, we developed in ways that require radical action on His part after we get onto the Master Potter's wheel. Even while on the Master Potter's wheel we may develop a habit that requires special attention on His part — and experience the pain connected with that shaping.
Shaping Is Not All Joy
An example of God's shaping is the apostle Paul, known as Saul until he capitulated to Jesus Christ on the road to Damascus. When Saul set out on that trip to Damascus to ferret out Christians and put them in prison, he was a proud Pharisee. Truly a self-assured, self-righteous person — overweening pride of race and religion motivated every action. God had to employ drastic means to get through to him, as we mentioned in chapter 2. Yet being knocked from his horse and blinded for some days did not make Paul a truly humble person for all time — God knew he had a tendency toward pride. So as part of Paul's shaping, the Master Potter engaged in a little long-term, though painful, shaping.
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A Personal Weakness
Isn't it often true that those people who are specially used and unusually blessed and gifted have a personal weakness that the Master Potter has to deal with? The apostle Paul reveals genuine personal transparency about his weakness in his second letter to the Corinthians: "And lest I should be exalted above measure by the abundance of the revelations, a thorn in the flesh was given to me, a messenger of Satan to buffet me, lest I be exalted above measure" (2 Cor. 12:7).
Ouch! That was clearly painful. Certainly this does not seem like a light experience for the great apostle, something he just brushed aside as unimportant, does it? He reports that it was so painful that he asked the Lord three times in great earnest to remove the "thorn in the flesh." Each time God said no, knowing that Paul's special weakness toward personal pride would require lifelong attention. But the Master Potter did give him a promise: "My grace is sufficient for you, for My strength is made perfect in weakness" (2 Cor. 12:9).
I know all about that tendency. I've already confessed that I grew up a proud little girl. Being the first grandchild in my mother's family, my aunts showered me with love, compliments, presents, and advice. I became headstrong, determined to have my own way.
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The tendency to pride was not helped when my mother and aunts taught me to read long before I entered public school. Instead of walking into a first-grade class when I started school, I was put into third grade. That's heady stuff! Later I skipped eighth grade, even though during the seventh grade I had experienced a health breakdown because my schedule was so full. The doctor discovered a spot on my lung, and I had to spend months in bed, totally missing the summer vacation.
I've shared how I eloped at fourteen while still a junior in high school, determined to be the master of my own fate. I wanted to be a singer/actress/dancer, while my parents wanted me to be a schoolteacher or music teacher.
A Matter of Humility
God knew that I had an intense drive to control my own life, so He let me undergo something similar to the apostle Paul's experience on the road to Damascus. The experience of committing my life to the Master Potter as a result of the message by Dr. MacArthur dramatically changed my attitude. But the Master Potter knew that He still had some serious shaping to do if I were to become the truly humble person He wanted me to be — and it would be painful.
My first major shaping after submitting to the hand of the Master Potter began with the birth of our daughter, Robin. I had always wanted to have a large family because my father and mother came from large families. I especially wanted a little girl. Yes, I had a son whom I adored, but I wanted a girl as well. Little did I know what an excruciating experience the fulfillment of that dream would become.
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Yet the Lord prepared me even for that experience. We were still living in the old Noah Beery home in Hollywood, with its professional-size tennis court and a badminton court in front. The kids played there a lot.
God's Preparation
One day Linda Lou was playing there with neighborhood children when a tall, blonde woman with a little girl walked by. But this was no ordinary little girl. Little Nancy was on crutches, for she had a horribly disfiguring disease. She had no feet, just huge lumps of flesh, and huge hands. She was wearing a long skirt. Yet she had the face of an angel and a truly sweet spirit.
When Linda Lou noticed this mother and daughter watching them play, she called out, "Come in. Come in and see us." She was endowed with unusual gentleness and care for the unfortunate and disabled — not surprising, really, with Roy as her father.
I brought out some cookies and lemonade and invited them into the house. I discovered that the mother had been an art illustrator for magazines, but was now involved in caring for her disfigured daughter.
I could not get over the spirit of Marguerite Hamilton and her daughter, Nancy. There was no timidity despite Nancy's affliction. And they possessed an incredible faith in God, that He would provide for their needs. There would be times when they had no bread to eat, but little Nancy would say, "It's all right, Mom. He'll see to it that we have bread when we need it."
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Invariably there would be a basket of food left for them. Different churches supported them, but their provision did not always overlap adequately.
Marguerite and Nancy's courage just astounded me. I could not imagine my son, Tom, when he was small, not having money for food, for a doctor bill. I realized later the truth of Jesus' words, "A little child shall lead them."
Pregnant!
We were ecstatic when I became pregnant in 1949, less than two years after Roy and I were married. We prepared like all other expectant parents. I was, of course, hoping it would be a girl. What I did not know was that God was going to give me a lesson in humility. He had to get that veneer of pride off. And the fact that He would humiliate me meant that the Master Potter really cared about me. That did not, however, reduce the pain of the shaping!
The first hint of trouble came in my seventh month of pregnancy. The doctor did a blood count. He informed me that I had an Rh-negative blood factor, while Roy had a positive factor. As a result, our baby might have difficulties because of our incompatible Rh factors.
Robin Elizabeth arrived after midnight on August 26, 1950. Groggy and weak after the birth, I turned my eyes to the glass-enclosed incubator and saw a pretty, delicate little girl kicking her legs. My first question was, "Is she all right?" to which someone answered, "She looks okay." As they wheeled me out, Roy kissed me and said, "Honey, she's beautiful; she has little ears just like yours!"
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The next day I complained to the nurse giving me a bath that they were not bringing me my baby as often as they brought other babies to their mothers. And when they did bring her, she was sleeping so soundly that I could hardly wake her up. I also noticed that when I held my baby up to the light, she looked faintly Asian. The nurse avoided my eyes, cleared her throat, and asked, "Are they going to let you take her home?"
I responded indignantly, "Of course I'm taking her home. Is there any reason why I shouldn't?"
The nurse looked at me and said, "Tell your doctor to tell you the truth about her."
My heart began to pound, and I demanded she tell me if there was anything wrong. She could not do that, so I immediately called my doctor and told him to tell me what was wrong with my baby.
Something's Wrong with Robin
The doctor came and told me that Robin was not responding to certain routine tests. They could not tell how she would progress, but she had been in an oxygen tent since her birth, and that was not good. He suggested we take her home, love her, and enjoy her, because "in cases like this, love does things that nothing else can do."
My heart turned to cold stone. At first I was too numb to cry. I prayed, "Lord, I know You understand this. I don't, but I trust You."
Unbidded, the scene where I had walked the corridor in that Louisville, Kentucky, hospital while Tom was being examined years earlier flooded my mind. I had promised God that if He would save Tom from
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infantile paralysis, I would put my life in His hands. I flushed with remorse, and promised God that I would not question His wisdom in letting Robin arrive in this condition. Whatever He willed, I would accept.
The pediatrician who was caring for her explained that she appeared to be a mongoloid child (today we call it Down's syndrome). She had the square little hands full of creases, the tiny ears, the undeveloped bridge of the nose, the slanting eyes. When the pediatrician came to the description of the eyes, I told him indignantly that she had Indian blood on her daddy's side, and that would account for the slant in the eyes. I was still in denial and refused to accept his description of Robin.
Most distressingly, we were told to place Robin in an institution as quickly as possible, so we would not become attached to her. She would need special care that we would be unable to give her at home. We refused. We felt that God had sent her to us for a purpose, and we would never find that purpose if we were to put her away. Roy said, "We'll just take her home and love her and raise her as best we can, and trust God for the rest."
The Utmost in Humiliation
Knowing my inner distress, God, the Master Potter, was about to make Himself known to me in a very personal way. He knew what it meant to have a Down's syndrome baby in 1950 — especially as a member of the Hollywood community. It was the utmost in humiliation, for people felt there was clearly a weakness in the parents if a child was born with Down's syndrome. Those children were simply kept
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hidden because society was not willing to accept them. This was true even in churches.
God knew that — and He also knew how He could use me if I would accept the challenge of caring for Robin. But I knew none of that the night we brought Robin home. I was a mixture of feeling sorry for Roy, of worrying whether I was adequate to care for Robin, and deep concern over what Robin herself would have to experience because of her physical disabilities.
Then as I lay in bed I heard Robin singing, as babies often do just before they go to sleep. I thought, "How could anything be wrong with a little angel like that?" But in my heart I knew.
I turned off the bed lamp and lay in the darkness, crying my heart out. Finally I fell asleep, totally exhausted. About two in the morning I awoke with a start. I sensed a definite presence in the room — a presence so pronounced I could almost reach out and touch it. There was no light, just the presence of the Holy Spirit.
As I lay there, enveloped by the presence of God, I was comforted. I knew it was going to be all right, that God was going to be with us through it all. That was definite! I breathed a "Thank You, Lord. I know it is You. I'll be all right now," and went back to sleep.
For a long time I told no one about this experience. I was sure people would not understand. They would think I was out of my mind. But I knew it was real and thanked God for the peace and comfort He had given me.
It is important to realize that this experience with the Lord did not remove the pain of the shaping; it just made it bearable. I still struggled emotionally when I saw how Robin suffered. She was not only a Down's syndrome child, but she also had a congenital
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heart defect. She would try to pull up in her crib and turn blue and have great difficulty breathing. During her second year, there was a polio epidemic and she caught it, leaving her unable to stand up again.
The Lord's Comfort
The Lord came to comfort me a second time. I had taken Robin up to San Francisco to see a doctor who did research on Down's syndrome children. He was trying to get them to a point where they gained muscle tone. He told me after he examined Robin, "Her heart is almost crowding her liver, it is expanding so fast."
On the way home I was alone with her in the bedroom on the train. I had strapped her in on the upper berth. The major change in her environment had resulted in diarrhea. She was crying and crying, and I couldn't find any way to stop her. I started crying myself, praying, "Lord, please help me. I cannot stop this child. I am totally helpless."
All of a sudden I saw what looked like a blue haze in the dim light of the room, almost like a curtain. I thought, Who is smoking on this train? I opened the drape and looked out — and it was clear as a bell. All of a sudden I felt warm inside, and I knew it was the Holy Spirit. Robin stopped crying and went to sleep, and so did I. I was truly grateful that the Lord honored me with His presence just when I needed Him the most.
The Master Potter revealed His love for me and helped me to bear the pain of the shaping taking place in less dramatic ways as well. Two months after Robin's birth I left for New York to appear on a TV show. I had to change trains in Chicago, so I was
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browsing in the magazine and book section of the newsstand. I noticed that the current issue of Reader's Digest had an article by Pearl Buck called "My Child Stopped Growing." Then I noticed a book by Dr. Norman Vincent Peale, A Guide to Confident Living. I purchased both and got back on the train.
The Pearl Buck article rang a bell of hope for my Robin. It described her so perfectly I started to cry. Then I opened Dr. Peale's book to the chapter "How to Meet Sorrow." I devoured it — and it devoured my heartbreak. I promised myself I would someday meet this man of God, who had steadied me and given me courage. He had helped me to realize that God would meet every need as it presented itself. Little did I know how important he would become for the publication of Robin's story in book form.
Time for a Move
When you have a child like Robin, painful experiences seem to come in waves — and never stop coming. For example, doctors told us that Los Angeles and Hollywood were too damp and smoggy for Robin in her weakened condition. We should move to the San Fernando Valley, where the air was more invigorating. So until we found a place there, Robin was to live in the home of her nurse.
One night I came home after taping a radio show to find the nursery bare. I let out a bawl like a cow just deprived of her calf. Roy and the nurse had thought it would be easier for me if Robin were moved when I was not home, but it was instead a big shock. I waited two days before going to see her and was relieved to
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find her in a lovely sunny room in a home filled with serenity and love. When we found a ranch in the valley, Roy's father and uncle built a little apartment especially for Robin, so she could be cared for adequately.
Despite the Lord's very personal assurances of His love and presence, I still had questions. I asked our pastor, "Why did this happen to us? Is it because of sin, or sins in our past? Or is it something I did when I was carrying her?"
Our pastor replied with deep compassion, "These things happen because of cumulative sin over many generations. The Bible says that all have sinned and come short of the glory of God. None of us knows exactly why these things are allowed to happen — only God, and if we trust Him, someday we will understand. This experience will cut away the dross and the tinsel from your life. You will know, once and for all, what is really important in life."
He was right. It was a refining experience — a shaping experience by the Master Potter. I believe it was necessary, even though it was painful, so we could be used more effectively by God. He was certainly teaching me that Dale Evans Rogers was not in control of her life anymore — the Master Potter was. He had purposes for our life that could not have been accomplished if we had stayed the Roy and Dale of the days before Robin Elizabeth was born. Those purposes would start to be fulfilled much sooner than we expected.
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An Old Testament Parallel
When I remember our experience with Robin, I have to think about a young woman in the Old Testament, Hannah, who also wanted a child badly. What wouldn't she have given for a large family!
The Bible reveals that hers was a very religious family. Every year Elkanah would take his whole family to the tabernacle at Shiloh to worship Jehovah. He would give Peninnah, one of his wives, and her children portions of the meat after the sacrifice. But because of his special love for Hannah, he would give her, who appeared to be unable to have children, a double portion.
That act of love apparently only increased Hannah's unhappiness that she could not bear Elkanah any children. On top of that, Peninnah was jealous of her husband's love for Hannah and did whatever she could to irritate Hannah. As the years went by, the irritations increased, and Hannah's unhappiness caused her to have the equivalent of an emotional breakdown. The Bible says she wept constantly and could not eat.
The pain of her shaping by the Master Potter was so great that even her husband's many manifestations of his special love for her did not satisfy Hannah. Only a child would do. So she made a vow to the Lord in Shiloh:
"O LORD of hosts, if You will indeed look on the affliction of your maidservant and remember me, and not forget Your maidservant, but will give Your maidservant a male child, then I will give him to the LORD all the days of his life, and no razor shall come upon his head." (1 Sam. 1:11)
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It had taken years, but the Master Potter had achieved His purpose with Hannah. No longer did she need to have a child to shut up the jeering Peninnah. No longer did she need to have a child to feel she was a proper wife to Elkanah. Now she wanted a child so she could give him up to the Lord's service. The fact that no razor was to touch his head meant he would be totally dedicated to the Lord (a later example is John the Baptist).
When Eli heard Hannah praying, he thought he was dealing with a drunken woman. But Hannah assured him she was indeed sober, for "out of the abundance of my complaint and grief I have spoken until now" (1 Sam. 1:16). Eli responded kindly, "Go in peace, and the God of Israel grant your petition which you have asked of Him" (1 Sam. 1:17).
Shaping a Son for Service
God did answer Hannah's desperate prayer and gave her a son. She named him Samuel, delivering him to Eli for tabernacle service when he was old enough. Yet in a truly unusual way, Hannah must have also been used by God to help shape the young child for God's service. He was still only a young boy when he heard the voice of God and was used by God to bring Eli the bad news about judgment on his family. Based on what we know about Eli's wicked sons and the indulgent priest, it is difficult to think that Samuel had become responsive to God because of the influence of Eli and his sons.
Yet even that shaping for God's service must not have been without a lot of pain; to be separated as soon as they were must have grieved Samuel as much as it did Hannah, despite their commitment to serving God.
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In time, Samuel became God's messenger to Israel's first two kings. He first was sent to King Saul repeatedly to share both God's wishes and God's judgment with the king. Then God used Samuel to discover and anoint King David for his service as Israel's king. We do not know whether Hannah was still alive when these events took place, but if she was, I'm sure she must have praised God for how He was using her son.
During this extremely difficult time with Robin, I, too, rejoiced over how God was using my son, Tom, and his wife, Barbara. During his music studies at the University of Southern California, he became a highly skilled instrumental musician. Upon their marriage, he and Barbara moved to Yreka, California, where he took a teaching position and directed the music in a church. Six months after Robins' birth, we rejoiced with Tom and Barbara over the arrival of their first baby, my first natural grandchild, Melinda Christine Fox.
Yet even in this the Master Potter was at work shaping both Tom and Barbara and us. Tom and Barbara soon noticed that one of Melinda's legs seemed shorter than the other, that it seemed to drag when she tried to crawl. After examination, a pediatrician revealed she was missing one hip socket. I had a stab of pain in my heart every time I watched that little girl and her leg.
Tom and Barbara seemed to have more faith than I did at that moment. They were convinced that God would handle it. Through Roy's contacts with the
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Shriners, they were able to take her to the San Francisco Hospital for Crippled Children.
I went with them, praying desperately that God would perform a miracle. With pounding heart I watched them attach a steel brace to her shoes and slide her leg into it. This was to force the leg into the hip to form its own socket. God answered prayer, and today Melinda walks as easily and normally as the rest of us. In retrospect I can see it was just another way in which God helped shape my trust in Him, though again the shaping brought pain before the praise!
More Involvement—More Pain
When Claudia, Robin's dedicated nurse, left us because of exhaustion, we hired a fine Christian nurse named Ruth. Just at that time Robin became restless, refusing her food, and taking only milk. She cried almost constantly.
One day her face swelled and her temperature soared. She had caught the mumps, even though we had kept her segregated from the other children who had the mumps. A pediatrician came and gave her a shot, but she steadily got worse.
The doctor who had examined her after her birth came to our house and he leveled with me. He said that the infection had got to her brain. She had encephalitis, and he doubted that she would make it. Even if she did, there would be severe brain damage.
I asked him, "If a miracle should happen and she should make it, would it be possible to do open heart surgery on her and close up that congenital defect—
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the hole in her heart? I will spend my last penny to help her."
He smiled sadly, shook his head, and said, "No, she would never survive the anesthesia. Keep her as comfortable as you can, and go on loving her, and learn from the experience. That is what I would do, if she were my child."
Although said kindly, the doctor's words were like the signing of a death warrant.
Near midnight I was awakened by spine-chilling howling and wailing. I threw on a robe and rushed to the family room to find Lana, our German Weimaraner dog and Robin's special pet, trying to get outside. I remembered the stories of dogs wailing as death approached someone they loved, but Roy did his best to deliver me from that idea — it was just a myth.
Robin's fever was frighteningly high, and her crying was almost more than I could bear. In the morning Ruth dipped her in and out of cool water. We took turns walking her and bathing her face, but she slipped into a coma. The doctor came, shook his head, and said there was nothing we could do.
At four in the afternoon I remembered that the children had not had lunch. I went into the kitchen to fix something for them. They were very quiet. While I was standing by the sink, the Lord again let me know He cared about my pain. I distinctly heard Him say to my heart, "I am going to take Robin." I said, "All right, Lord. As You will."
I went back to Robin. She was breathing with an ominous rasping, rattling sound in her throat. I was dimly conscious of a bird singing in the eaves of her little house. It seemed to me that Robin and I were suspended between two worlds. Lana, the dog,
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scratched wildly at the screen door in a desperate effort to get inside. She yelped the same bark she used whenever she stood between Robin and a stranger. The nurse sent her away. I stumbled blindly out of the door for a breath of fresh air, and to pray. Roy and I walked a bit. With tears streaming down my cheeks, I asked God to take her quickly and not let her suffer any more. The nurse soon came out and said quietly, "She's gone."
Robin had gone to be with the Master Potter. She had lived just two days short of her second birthday; we had to put away the wrapped birthday gifts. Friends came, and a flood of phone calls and telegrams began.
With the funeral, a new phase in the Master Potter's shaping began — a phase that catapulted me to international leadership in the movement to help retarded (special) children. And the book the Lord gave me, Angel Unaware, opened the doors for that ministry.
Shaping by the Master Potter. Sometimes radical. Usually accompanied by pain. Yet the outcome can be a new humility, a willingness to depend on the Master Potter, to live by His plan for us, and a new ministry for Him.
On the other hand, there may also be a less positive reaction. We can actually be reacting negatively to His shaping and begin sliding from the wheel. But more about that in the next chapter.
Reflecting on the Shaping
1. When you agreed to the Master Potter's shaping, what area of your life did He appear to tackle first?
2. Which experience, though painful, proved most decisive in dealing with this area of your life?
3. How did the Master Potter deal with a key weakness in the apostle Paul's life, according to 2 Corinthians 12:7?
4. If you had a major traumatic experience that dramatically reshaped a key area of your life, how did the Master Potter prepare you for it?
5. Describe one answer the Master Potter gave you to your questions during that major reshaping.
