The Greek Potter
Some years ago I went for a break on a small Greek island, that was not over run by tourists, a really beautiful spot for rest and quiet.
The weather was fabulous, the island idyllic and the locals were so friendly.
I met each morning with a group of fishermen and they told me many a yarn about heroic exploits and the fish that got away.
One day they referred to an old boy on the other side of the island who had only one leg and I found it very hard to believe their story about him.
I really thought they were having me, as it was an incredible story if true.
It was a very hot day, with the temperature near the 100 degree mark, so I took the old bus and went to visit him.
The old ramshackle bus was packed to over flowing but at least all the windows were open as well as the door, giving some comfort.
I was wondering to myself if the fisher folk were killing themselves with laughter at my expense or maybe a way of getting rid of me, I don’t know.
The bus rolled around the island up the hills and down the other side in slow motion, it took hours to get round the one half of the island.
Arriving at the small village Aphia Marina with its very long sandy beach I wandered down towards the beach before spotting a long shop selling local pottery with the accent on the replica 6th century BC pottery.
I went inside to get out of the searing heat and wandered around at leisure, the surprise being that there was no one to watch over he shop.
Suddenly I was startled by a noise in the corner of the shop as if something had fallen to the ground.
On looking more closely I saw a man sitting at a potters wheel so I made my way over to see him for myself.
He was sitting on an old stool and began to turn the wheel with his foot; it was at that moment that I realised here was the potter they told me of in the other village.
He operated his wheel with one foot as his left leg had been amputated after an accident.
It was incredible to watch his skill and control of the wheel with one foot, then to learn that this potter’s wheel was over 2,000 years old.
What unnerved me was his continual flicking of thumb on finger towards me and apologised for being there as if he wanted me to go, but I was fascinated.
At length he stopped and started to talk with me and what an afternoon it turned out to be absolutely fabulous and one I will never forget.
He was delighted that I had stopped and was so interested in his work and talked at length on the wheel itself being so old.
Then the skill had been passed down from one generation to another until he had qualified.
He explained that officers from the Department of Antiquities came over monthly to inspect his work and anything that did not pass the test was marked by a red cross and destroyed in the sea.
Any substandard work was destroyed by Greek Law and failure to do so could see the license taken from him.
He showed me a vase that seemed beautiful to the eye but had actually got a hair line crack in it and was marked with a red dye on the base ready for breaking up on the rocks in the sea.
I reflected upon this three hours later as I made my way back across the island on the old creaking bus.
It pointed to the fact that at the end of this life we will be brought under Divine scrutiny before the Lord Jesus Christ.
‘It is appointed unto man to die but after this the judgement’ see Hebrews 9 v 27 and Romans 14 v 10.
We ‘all’ this being the operative word must give account of our life before God and we shall be viewed in what we did with the Lord Jesus.
We either accept His offer of salvation or we reject it and depending on what our choice was our destiny for eternity will be decided.
Accepted into the heavenly place or rejected into hell for eternity, we decide which it will be by our life down here.
Where will you spend eternity?