SincereMilkDevotional and FaithWatch Reflection

  The Potter’s Road Episode 5 – “Ashes and Gold” “Sometimes what looks like loss is the Potter reshaping us for greater glory.” A month passed since Amos turned down the contract. The family carried on quietly. Orders were slow, but peace filled their small home like a steady flame. One morning, as dawn brushed gold over the horizon, Ruth burst into the workshop. Her hands trembled. “Amos! Smoke!” They ran outside. A neighbor’s shed had caught fire — and the wind was driving the flames toward their shop. “Buckets!” Amos shouted. Damilare and Ruth joined him, but the fire spread too fast. Within minutes, half the workshop was engulfed. The kiln cracked. Clay shattered. Years of labor turned to ash. When the fire finally died, Amos stood in the ruins, his heart breaking. He sank to his knees, the smell of smoke thick around him. “Lord,” he whispered, “did I miss Your way?” Damilare kicked a charred beam in frustration. “Maybe if we’d taken the deal, we’d have been spared t...

  The Potter’s Road Episode 4 – The Fire and the Furnace “Every vessel must face the fire to find its strength.” The days after Damilare’s return were both sweet and strange. The house that had echoed with silence now held the murmurs of healing. Ruth moved about humming again. Damilare helped around the workshop, sweeping, sorting clay, and watching his father with quiet respect. But deep down, Amos sensed that something more was coming. One afternoon, as they worked together, a man in a crisp suit stepped into the shop. His shoes were polished, his voice confident. “Mr. Adewale, I represent a new ceramics company in the city. We’ve heard of your craftsmanship. We’d like to offer you a contract to design exclusive pieces under our brand.” Ruth gasped. “Amos! That’s an answer to prayer!” But Amos remained still. He felt something unsettled in his spirit. “Tell me more,” he said. The man smiled. “We handle everything—materials, distribution, sales. You just create. But there...

  The Potter’s Road Episode 3 – The Son and the Shards “Sometimes, God brings back what was lost—not as we left it, but as He redeems it.” It was a quiet Sunday morning when Amos heard the voice he hadn’t heard in nearly a year. “Baba?” He froze mid-step, a piece of unfired clay still in his hand. The sound came again—tentative, uncertain. “Baba, it’s me… Damilare.” Amos turned slowly. There, standing in the doorway, was his son—thinner, older, his eyes carrying both shame and longing. For a long moment, the two men simply stared at each other, the silence heavy with all the words left unsaid. Ruth came rushing from the kitchen, her hands trembling. “Dami…” she whispered, tears springing to her eyes. But Amos could not move. The last time they had spoken, angry words had flown—about money, choices, pride, and faith. That argument had left their home colder than the Harmattan night. Now, standing face to face, Amos felt both joy and pain rise in his chest. “Why are you her...

  The Potter’s Road Episode 2 – The Silent Wheel “Faith is not loud; sometimes, it’s the quiet turning of trust when nothing seems to move.” The next morning, Amos rose before dawn. The air was cool, the sky bruised with shades of gray. He lit his old lamp and sat before the potter’s wheel again. The broken pieces from yesterday still lay in a corner — silent witnesses of his failure. But today, he did not sweep them away. Instead, he gathered the fragments carefully and placed them in a clay bowl. Ruth found him there, his hands dusted with dry earth. “Are you starting again?” she asked softly. He nodded. “The Potter didn’t throw the clay away. Neither will I.” But as he worked, something in him began to ache — not just in his hands, but deep inside. Each spin of the wheel reminded him of all that had been lost: his son, Damilare, who hadn’t called in months; the debts piling up; the silence that had replaced laughter in their home. By noon, his arms trembled. The new vess...

  The Potter’s Road Episode 1 – When the Clay Cracked “Sometimes, God breaks us only to remake us stronger.” The rain fell harder that evening than it had in years. Inside a small pottery workshop on the edge of the town, Amos Adewale , a humble craftsman, sat beside his wheel, staring at the shattered remains of his latest masterpiece. It had taken him weeks — molding, shaping, smoothing, praying. He had hoped to sell it to pay his daughter’s school fees. But now, as the fragments lay across the floor, all he could whisper was, “Not again, Lord… not again.” His wife, Ruth, entered quietly, her eyes full of concern. “Maybe tomorrow—” Amos shook his head. “Tomorrow? Ruth, I’ve said that for two years. Every time I try to rise, something breaks.” He wasn’t just talking about pottery anymore. He was talking about life. His business had declined since the big ceramic factory opened nearby. His only son had left home after a bitter argument. His faith, once vibrant, now felt ...