**The Potter and the Idol Maker: A Tale of Two Craftsmen**
In the bustling city of Babylon, where the streets hummed with merchants and the air smelled of spices and burning incense, two craftsmen worked diligently in their trades. One was a potter named Jotham, a humble man who feared the Lord. The other was a metalworker named Laban, a skilled artisan who crafted idols for the wealthy and powerful. Their lives would soon intertwine in a way that revealed the stark contrast between the wisdom of God and the folly of man.
### **The Potter’s Hands**
Jotham rose before dawn, as was his custom, to knead the clay upon his wheel. His hands, calloused from years of labor, shaped the wet earth with patient precision. He had learned his craft from his father, who had often whispered the words of the prophets as he worked.
*”We are the clay, and you are our potter; we are all the work of your hand,”* Jotham murmured, recalling the words of Isaiah. He smiled as the vessel beneath his fingers took form—a sturdy jar, meant to carry water for a family in need. His work was not for glory, but for service.
One evening, as Jotham prayed, a strange warmth filled his heart. He sensed the Lord speaking to him, not in thunder, but in the quiet certainty of his spirit. *”Jotham, go to the marketplace tomorrow. There, you will see the vanity of man, and you will declare my truth.”*
Trembling yet obedient, Jotham set out the next morning, his steps guided by an unseen hand.
### **The Idol Maker’s Pride**
Meanwhile, Laban stood in his workshop, surrounded by half-formed statues of silver and gold. His latest commission was a towering image of Marduk, the patron god of Babylon, ordered by a wealthy merchant seeking favor.
“More gold here,” Laban commanded his apprentice, pointing to the idol’s chest. “The people must see its splendor and tremble.”
He wiped sweat from his brow, admiring his handiwork. The idol’s eyes gleamed with embedded jewels, its arms outstretched as if to bless—or demand. Laban smirked. *This will bring me great reward*, he thought.
But as he worked, his strength waned. The fire of the forge was relentless, and hunger gnawed at him. “Bring me bread!” he snapped at a servant. “How can I create gods if my own strength fails?”
### **The Marketplace Encounter**
At high noon, Jotham arrived at the marketplace just as Laban’s newest idol was being unveiled. A crowd had gathered, murmuring in awe as the gilded statue was carried on a litter, adorned with rich garments.
“Behold, the mighty Marduk!” a priest cried. “Bow before him, and you shall prosper!”
Jotham’s heart ached as he watched men and women kneel before the lifeless metal. Then, the Lord’s voice stirred him again.
*”Speak.”*
Stepping forward, Jotham raised his hands. “People of Babylon, hear me! This idol you worship—who formed it? A man! The same hands that crafted it grow weary, the same stomach that feeds the craftsman hungers. Can this metal save you? It cannot even save itself from rust!”
Laban, hearing this, pushed through the crowd, his face red with rage. “Who are you to mock my work? This god brings power to those who honor him!”
Jotham met his gaze calmly. “You cut down a tree. Half you burn in the fire to warm yourself, the other half you carve into a god. And then you pray to it—*‘Save me, for you are my god!’* Can you not see the madness?”
The crowd stirred, some laughing nervously, others frowning in discomfort.
### **The Truth Revealed**
That night, Laban lay restless. The words of the potter haunted him. He rose and walked to his workshop, staring at the rows of idols—each one silent, each one useless.
A sudden crash made him jump. One of the statues had toppled, its head snapping off. No wind had caused it. No hand had touched it.
Trembling, Laban fell to his knees. “What have I done?”
The next morning, he sought out Jotham. “Tell me,” he begged, “of this God who shapes men like clay.”
And so, under the shade of an olive tree, the potter spoke of the Lord—the true Maker, the Holy One of Israel, who alone holds power to save.
*”I am the Lord, who made all things, who alone stretched out the heavens, who spread out the earth by myself.”*
Laban wept, for the first time in years. The idol maker had met the living God.
### **The Legacy of the Two Craftsmen**
From that day forward, Laban no longer fashioned idols. Instead, he used his skill to create tools for the poor, his hands now serving the One who had formed *him*.
And Jotham? He continued shaping clay, each vessel a testament to the Potter who molds all things for His glory.
For the Lord had declared through His prophet Isaiah:
*”I have swept away your offenses like a cloud, your sins like the morning mist. Return to me, for I have redeemed you.”*
And in Babylon, two craftsmen learned that no work of human hands could compare to the greatness of the God who shaped the universe.
