Days of Heaven: 1 Chronicles 4:23
Even the quiet hands of a potter shape a legacy when they move at the impulse of the King.
Devotional Credit: Adapted from “Days of Heaven on Earth” by A.B. Simpson
Photo Credit: Unsplash
A.B. Simpson directs our gaze today not to the mountaintops of public ministry or spiritual epiphany, but to the quiet valleys where life feels ordinary—where faith is shaped in the pottery of routine. He writes of those anonymous artisans—potters by trade, yet living in the service of the king. They carried out seemingly mundane work, but it was holy work because of who they served and how they served.
Simpson compares the natural flow of water from upper springs to the supernatural impulse it takes for water to rise from lower springs. In the same way, it’s no great feat to shine when life is thrilling and full of purpose. But when the days feel gray and thankless? When the rhythm of duty lacks applause? That’s when the divine impulse of joy and peace becomes unmistakably Christlike. It is not the kind of joy borrowed from circumstance, but the overflow of a hidden spring.
The image of the sea bird completes the picture. Though it plunges into the depths, it rises untouched because of the oil on its feathers. In Christ, we too can move through this world—submerged in its demands, surrounded by its brokenness—but remain unsoiled, not because of our striving, but because of the Spirit’s anointing. We live in this world, yet are not of it.
Journal Entry — In the Voice of the Holy Spirit
You are Mine.
And in every task—yes, even those that seem unnoticed—I am shaping you with eternal hands. I placed you in the service of the King, not in the glamour of courts, but in the workshop of clay and dust. You are not lost in routine; you are found in Me. Every brush of the wheel, every pattern pressed into the pottery of your day, is meaningful when done in union with Me.
I have given you joy not as the world gives. You can sing while you labor. You can rejoice while others groan. For the joy you carry is born of Me, not circumstance. It rises not because your days are lofty but because I dwell within you. Water doesn’t rise from the valley on its own—it’s My impulse, My Spirit in you, that lifts your heart heavenward.
You wonder if your life is making a difference—but child, it is not the size of the task that brings Me glory; it’s the surrender in the doing. The potter’s hands are just as holy as the prophet’s lips when both are yielded to Me. You wear heaven in your countenance. My Spirit has sealed you with oil; the world’s corruption can’t cling to you unless you believe it can. You are anointed, not to escape the world, but to walk through it as light and peace and rest.
So sing. Smile. Serve. Not for the praise of others, but because I am singing through you. The King sees. The King delights. The King lives in you.
Scriptures woven in:
John 15:19, Colossians 3:17, 1 Thessalonians 5:16–18, Philippians 2:15, Isaiah 61:3, Galatians 2:20, John 17:15–18, Ephesians 1:13
Prayer of Trust
Father, thank You for giving me a life that doesn’t need to be spectacular to be sacred. I trust You to live through me in the ordinary—to whisper Your joy into the rhythm of every task. You have already given me Your Spirit, and I rest in the assurance that Your presence makes every place holy. Whether I’m folding laundry, speaking with a patient, or stuck in traffic—I am in the service of the King. Thank You for making my life Your dwelling place.