The Potter's Right: Romans 9:19-29

One of you will say to me: "Then why does God still blame us? For who is able to resist his will?"

The objection rises. If God's purposes cannot be thwarted, if his choice determines outcomes, why does he still find fault? The question has been asked in every generation by everyone who bumps against divine sovereignty.

But who are you, a human being, to talk back to God?

The response is not an argument but a reminder. Proportions matter. Who are you? A human being—finite, fallen, limited in knowledge, warped by sin. And you would talk back to God—infinite, holy, omniscient, perfectly wise?

Shall what is formed say to the one who formed it, "Why did you make me like this?"

The absurdity crystallizes. Clay questioning the potter. The formed thing challenging the former. The creature demanding an explanation from the Creator.

Does not the potter have the right to make out of the same lump of clay some pottery for special purposes and some for common use?

The potter image from Jeremiah and Isaiah. One lump of clay. The potter shapes as he chooses. Some vessels for honor, some for ordinary use. The clay doesn't vote. The clay doesn't file objections.

The potter has the right. Not just the power—the right. Authority over the clay is inherent to being the potter.

What if God, although choosing to show his wrath and make his power known, bore with great patience the objects of his wrath—prepared for destruction?

What if. Paul doesn't answer directly; he probes with a question. What if God—whose wrath is just, whose power is real—bore with great patience those destined for judgment?

Objects of his wrath. The phrase is stark. Some vessels are made for wrath. Prepared for destruction. This is not unfair—they deserve it. But the patience with which God bears them is remarkable.

What if he did this to make the riches of his glory known to the objects of his mercy, whom he prepared in advance for glory—

The contrast emerges. Objects of wrath—prepared for destruction. Objects of mercy—prepared in advance for glory. The difference is not merit but mercy. Not achievement but preparation.

The riches of his glory. God displays his glory through both—through patience with the wicked and through mercy to the chosen. The universe sees both justice and grace.

—even us, whom he also called, not only from the Jews but also from the Gentiles?

Even us. Paul and his readers are among the objects of mercy. Called—effectually summoned into salvation. Not only Jews but also Gentiles. The mercy has crossed ethnic boundaries.

As he says in Hosea: "I will call them 'my people' who are not my people; and I will call her 'my loved one' who is not my loved one."

Hosea's prophecy. Originally about Israel's restoration, now applied to Gentile inclusion. Those who were not my people—Gentiles, outsiders, strangers to the covenant—would be called my people. Not my loved one becomes my loved one.

The transformation is not in them but in God's calling.

"And, in the very place where it was said to them, 'You are not my people,' there they will be called 'children of the living God.'"

In the very place. Where rejection was pronounced, acceptance will be declared. Where alienation was experienced, sonship will be announced. Children of the living God—the highest privilege, given to those who had no claim.

Isaiah cries out concerning Israel: "Though the number of the Israelites be like the sand by the sea, only the remnant will be saved."

Now the other side. Not all Israel will be saved—only a remnant. The promise to Abraham of descendants like sand by the sea remains true. But within that vast number, only a remnant finds salvation.

The remnant principle runs through Scripture. Noah and his family. Lot leaving Sodom. Seven thousand who never bowed to Baal. Always a remnant. Never the whole.

"For the Lord will carry out his sentence on earth with speed and finality."

Judgment is coming. Swift. Final. The Lord will not delay forever. His sentence will be executed. The patience is real but not infinite.

It is just as Isaiah said: "Unless the Lord Almighty had left us descendants, we would have become like Sodom, we would have been like Gomorrah."

Sodom and Gomorrah. Complete destruction. No survivors. No remnant. That would have been Israel's fate—should have been—except the Lord left descendants.

Left us. The survival was not achievement but gift. Not preservation through strength but grace through sovereignty. The Lord left. The Lord chose to leave. Israel's existence was mercy, not merit.

The potter shapes the clay. The Creator calls whom he calls. The Sovereign shows mercy to whom he shows mercy. And in the end, the remnant is saved—not because they were better, but because God prepared them in advance for glory.

The riches of his glory displayed in objects of mercy.

We are the clay. He is the potter. And that is good news—because if salvation depended on us, none would be saved.

It depends on mercy. And mercy chose us.