Grace to you and
peace from God our Father and our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ. Amen
“We have this treasure in clay jars, so that
it may be made clear that this extraordinary power belongs to God and does not
come from us.”
2 Cor. 4:7
I bought a bottle
of Vodka when I went to Russia.
Never much cared
for Vodka, but when in Russia do as the Russians do, right?
I didn’t actually
buy it for the Vodka. It was a cool
bottle.
Tolstoy
Vodka. Named for the great Russian author.
What was neat
about the bottle was that on the front of the bottle was a frame, and then you
looked through the frame to see the portrait of Tolstoy on the back of the
bottle. It was kind of cool.
When I purchased
it, my friend Bradn informed me that Russians have a saying.
“Nice bottle, bad
vodka.”
The point being
that if you have to rely on fancy packaging to sell the vodka, there’s not much
to be said for the vodka itself.
“We have this treasure in clay jars, so that
it may be made clear that this extraordinary power belongs to God and does not
come from us.”
Earthen Vessels.
Pottery.
Red pots.
For ages the most
common and ordinary of vessels.
Clay molded by
hands, fired in a kiln, sometimes with a pretty glaze, often not.
This is not
crystal.
Actually, today,
in large part because of the efforts of many fine artists who’ve devoted
themselves to the craft of pottery, we love hand thrown pottery as pieces of
art.
Personally, I’d
love to have a full set of dishes all done by a local potter. It’d be a true treasure in a world too often typified
by mass produced junk.
But that misses
the point.
Earthen vessels.
Clay pots.
The most common
and everyday.
And yet a
treasure within.
I recall another
bottle of alcohol. (Kind of ironic for
me to be preaching about alcohol, as a recovering alcoholic, but bear with me.)
One of the first
residents to move into Luther Park in Sandpoint was a World War II veteran.
Shortly after
moving in, he decided that this was the time to share a bottle with us.
When he, together
with the other allied troops liberated France, they were issued a bottle of
Brandy, actually Cognac.
It was a plain
bottle, with a simple label reading: “Special
Reserve by order of the French Government for the Allied Troops”.
He had carried
this bottle home with him in his bed roll and preserved it for the last 65 or
so years, and then on this day, shared it with us.
A treasure for
what it represented.
“We have this treasure in clay jars, so that
it may be made clear that this extraordinary power belongs to God and does not
come from us.”
Treasure in clay
jars.
The finest wine,
in a paper cup.
The Gospel of
Jesus Christ, and this motley crew we call the Church.
The
treasure. The clay pot.
Our human
tendency is to focus on the packaging, at times, and lose sight of the true
treasure.
We want the
finest chalice. And the chalice itself
becomes our treasure.
I did a quick
online search for chalices. It didn’t
take much effort to find a chalice and paten, heavily gold plated pieces of
art, on sale for $25,000.
That’s the way we
tend to think about these things. The
blood of Christ ought to be contained in a sacred vessel, a golden chalice,
something worthy of the treasure within.
And yet it’s not
about the chalice.
“We have this treasure in clay jars, so that
it may be made clear that this extraordinary power belongs to God and does not
come from us.”
If the Gospel of
Jesus Christ is the treasure, the Church is the earthen vessel, the clay pot.
And you know
what?
I wish the Church
was a gold plated, gem encrusted, piece of art, but it isn’t. It is simply a vessel. Common.
Ordinary. Simple. Plain.
This too often is
painfully obvious.
We’re a rag-tag
army at best.
At our worst we
are a stumbling block, a major hurdle for people to overcome.
The problem with
the Church, you see, is that we are all sorts of sinners.
And you don’t
have to be part of the church for long before this becomes painfully obvious.
When I look back
over my life, and the experience of being in the church, and think about the
things that have happened to my parents, to myself, and to my children, I
wonder why, just why would I ever want to be part of the church?
I was thinking
the other day about the Church and how I would describe it.
The phrase came
to me: “’Minnesota nice’ with a deep
mean streak that lies just below the surface.”
There is part of
the church that is just plain nice. “Minnesota
nice.” That’s the part we like to think
about. We say nice things. We think nice things. We are friendly. Sometimes we are even outgoing. We bring hot dishes to each other when we are
sick, or if someone dies. We make
cookies. Nice.
And then there is
the other side.
There is a mean
streak that raises its ugly head every once in a while. Just mean.
This dynamic was
never clearer to me than when I went on disability and had to step away from
ministry for a while.
On the one hand,
I had to be in Church, absolutely had to be there. It was my life line.
And yet, because
of the trauma I had experienced in the Church, when I went to church for next
few months I experienced seizures, partial complex seizures, brought about in
no small part by the emotional strife that simply being in church caused.
“We have this treasure in clay jars, so that
it may be made clear that this extraordinary power belongs to God and does not
come from us.”
“We do not proclaim ourselves; we proclaim
Jesus Christ as Lord and ourselves as your slaves for Jesus’ sake. For it is
the God who said, “Let light shine out of darkness,” who has shone in our
hearts to give the light of the knowledge of the glory of God in the face of
Jesus Christ.”
We proclaim a
message of forgiveness, but often we ourselves are not very forgiving.
We proclaim a
message of love, when our actions are often not loving.
We speak of
peace, amid all the tensions of our world and the interpersonal strife of our
communities.
We talk of mercy,
all the while that we are judgmental.
In short, we
preach Christ, while not being very Christ like ourselves.
But the point is
this: We are not the message, but
merely the messengers. We are not the
treasure, merely the clay jars.
We often fail to
forgive—
But God never does.
We are not as
loving as we could be—
Yet God’s love endures forever.
Our world is
filled with hostilities—
God’s kingdom is one of peace.
Amid all our
judgmentalism—
Jesus shows mercy.
The point is that
we in the Church are not the Christ.
Never have been.
Never will be.
But Christ is
here.
Christ is the
treasure, not us.
If you come to
the Church and experience grace and mercy, love and forgiveness, peace and
reconciliation and all that the Lord has to offer, know this.
That it is not
because the church is full of grace and mercy, love and forgiveness, peace and
reconciliation.
No, quite often
it is exactly the opposite.
But this is so that it may be made clear
that this extraordinary power belongs to God and does not come from us.
It’s not about
us.
It’s about Jesus.
One final note.
As a pastor, I
wish I were more forgiving.
I try to be, but
often am not. I remember. To forgive and forget is not always my strong
suit.
And then each
Sunday morning I stand before you and declare to you the entire forgiveness of
all your sins.
There is a
disconnect there. I, who am not as
forgiving as I should be, declaring to you that you are forgiven.
The clay
pot. And the treasure.
You see the point
is that it is Christ who forgives you, not I.
Christ does what we as humans are unable to do.
We are but
messengers, earthly vessels that bear a priceless treasure to the world.
The most
expensive wine in the world is Rothchilds Wine, with one bottle alone fetching
more than $156,000.
Imagine
purchasing such a wine in a box.
The finest wine
in the world, sold in a box.
We are like the
cardboard box, the humblest of vessels that contains within itself the rarest
of treasurers, namely the love and mercy of God in Christ Jesus.
Hard to imagine,
but it is so.
Amen
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