Sermon preached June 2, 2024, at First Presbyterian Church of Rolla. Based on 2 Corinthians 4:1-12. If you listen to the podcast, the meditation begins at 20:24.
We have this treasure in jars of clay. Hmmm. What exactly is meant by “jars of clay”? Well, in Paul’s time, clay jars were the most common storage unit. Anything that had to be ceremonially clean, like water for the mikveh, used stone jars since clay jars could have unclean residue. Most of the vessels used at the Temple were gold, silver, or bronze. But for day-to-day use, clay jars were the common choice. Fragile, common, unassuming.
When I read this passage, I thought of this teapot. (bring it out) Rhonda has had this teapot longer than I’ve known her. It originally belonged to her great-grandmother. She said that almost immediately, she broke the lid, but then repaired it. Clay pottery is fragile like that! She started putting coins in it, and eventually, it became a repository for lots of interesting money. (Pull out a few coins/bills/etc.)
Then the other day, I noticed this on the dresser. This is a clay jar that one of our kids made in elementary school. Rhonda uses it to store jewelry. Now, anything really valuable, we keep in a safe or in the bank. But for general storage, for items of curiosity or items we might use regularly, this pot or this jar are perfectly fine.
If Paul were writing to modern Americans, instead of clay jars, he might say that we have this treasure in Tupperware. Can you imagine keeping your most prized possessions in some cheap Walmart Tupperware?
Yet that’s exactly what Paul is likening us to. We are just simple clay jars or Tupperware, or maybe old margarine containers, but we are entrusted with the most valuable treasure in the universe: God’s love. Modern spirituality focuses mainly on self-improvement and connecting with God, which is to say, it focuses mainly on either making ourselves into fancier clay jars or filling ourselves with more treasure.
Each summer—well, I’ve done it twice now, and I’m signed up to go again this year—each summer, I go on retreat at the White House Retreat Center. Over the course of three days of silence, I listen to preaching, I pray, I read, I go on spiritual walks, that sort of thing. It’s a Jesuit center, so of course the worship is Roman Catholic, but that’s OK. We all pray to the same God. Anyway, the purpose of the retreat is spiritual formation. I come home refreshed, renewed, re-connected to God, and with a new perspective. I’m filled with the Spirit. The treasure in my clay jar has been topped off.
Other people meditate, or go on nature walks, or otherwise try to step away from the world. Now, this is great! As far as it goes. In fact, I remember encouraging spiritual practices on several occasions, things like reading the Bible, or prayer, or whatever. All of these practices and experiences help to make us better pottery or fill us with more spiritual treasure. But at the end of the day, we still hold this treasure in jars of clay. Making ourselves better people is a good thing, but is not truly the Gospel.
What is the Gospel? The kingdom of God is at hand! We go forth into the world spreading this good news, not to draw attention to ourselves, but to direct attention to God. Once, Mary properly chastised me for wearing beard ornaments in the pulpit. I like to be festive, but when I’m preaching, the focus should not be on me, not even on the words that I say, but on the Word Made Flesh that my words point to. In the same way, each time we proclaim the Gospel, we should point not to ourselves, but to the kingdom of God.
Evangelism is kind of a dirty word to many people, largely because of the awful ways some people do it. The very worst are the people who come to campus and shout at students about how terrible and sinful they are. But there are plenty of other examples of bad evangelism. Usually, the end goal of the evangelizer is to make you join them. They want you to believe exactly what they believe, pray exactly as they pray, and so forth. I’ve seen memes about “winning souls.” They want to conquer you and make you a part of their team.
Paul’s message here, though, is that we should not be proclaiming ourselves, but Christ. Now, I do appreciate being recognized on the street, and being connected to the message that I strive to proclaim. The other day, when I was running, I passed a guy I’ve never met but who I’ve seen on the street before. We said hello, and then he said, “I really appreciate your articles in the paper!” I take that as a good sign that my words are reaching beyond this congregation and maybe helping people connect with the God I know and love. The fact that he recognizes me and connects me with my writing means that someday, perhaps, we can have a more substantial conversation than a cordial “Good morning!” Perhaps someday, he’ll share his perspective with me as well, and we can learn from each other.
I would love it if he were to also connect my message with this congregation and come worship with us, but that’s not really the point. Our task is not so much to build this congregation as it is to build the kingdom of God. I believe that if we keep our focus on preaching Christ, preaching a loving God, preaching about a world of universal human flourishing, that other people will want to be a part of what we’re doing here. That’s how we will grow—by being a church that is doing something that people want to participate in.
But as Paul said, we proclaim not ourselves, but Christ. If people join us in worship, it won’t be because of who we are, but because this is a place where they can encounter God. In modern America, people are hungry for connection and for being a part of something bigger than themselves. There is nothing bigger than the kingdom of God! We should strive to make our congregation a visible manifestation of God’s realm, just one among many.
In our creeds, especially the Nicene and Apostles Creeds, we confess to one holy, catholic, apostolic Church. Holy: we are set apart to belong to God. Catholic: not in the sense that Jesuits are Roman Catholics, but universal. We are one Church who worship one God. We should pursue unity in the Church, while recognizing diversity.
We are also an apostolic Church. An apostle is one who is sent out into the world. A disciple is a follower of a teacher, such as Jesus of Nazareth. An apostle is one who is sent out to carry the teacher’s message to others. We are like ambassadors of God’s kingdom, striving to establish diplomatic relations with the world and encourage others to join in.
Indeed, being an apostle, or an evangelizer, encompasses roughly half of the Great Ends of the Church, which are: The proclamation of the gospel for the salvation of humankind; The shelter, nurture, and spiritual fellowship of the children of God; The maintenance of divine worship; The preservation of the truth; The promotion of social righteousness; and The exhibition of the Kingdom of Heaven to the world. As the Church, we are called to proclaim the gospel, promote social righteousness, and exhibit the kingdom of heaven. These are apostolic callings. We have this treasure from God, and are called to put it to good use in the world.
Being an apostle, or an evangelizer, is hard. Look at Paul: afflicted in every way but not crushed, perplexed but not driven to despair, persecuted but not forsaken, struck down but not destroyed. Why was he able to endure? Because he had Christ to support him. He knew that the treasure he had received only had value if he shared it, and he knew that Christ’s love is an endless fountain of blessing welling up within him.
I’d like to share a couple of practices with you, ways that you can be strengthened and emboldened to continue proclaiming the Gospel and exhibiting the kingdom of heaven. The first comes to me from Lindy Hardwick. Many of you know Lindy; among other things, she has preached here a few times. She has spent a lot of her career as a chaplain. When I mentioned that I struggle sometimes with pastoral care, this is what she told me to do. Imagine that there is a hole in the top of your head and that light from God is flowing down through it into you. Then imagine that there is a hole in your chest that channels that light out to the person you are speaking to, who is hurting and needs to feel God’s love. At the same time, if they are pouring out their pain, their anxiety, their anger, or their fear on you, imagine taking it in through your chest and passing it straight up to God.
In this way, instead of trying to store up the treasure of God’s love and dole it out, you become a conduit for love. Instead of relying on yourself and your own wisdom and strength to care for someone, rely on God through the power of the Holy Spirit flowing in and through you to be their ultimate Comforter.
Now, before we turn to the Lord’s Table for holy spiritual sustenance, I’d like to do an exercise with you. I receive a daily message from the Center for Action and Contemplation, and a couple of months ago, they had this exercise led by Brian McLaren and Carmen Acevedo Butcher, which I have edited just slightly. As a background, this “Peace and Light” meditation came at the conclusion of a week reviewing seven stories. The first six stories are ways that community fails to work for everyone: the domination story, the revolution story, the isolation story, the purification story, the accumulation story, and the victimization story. The seventh story is the story of reconciliation. In the Seventh Story, human beings are not the protagonists of the world. Love is.
So now, the practice. You may be a jar of clay, but you are capable of being a conduit, a vessel, for the glorious treasure of the Light of the World. Take a few deep breaths, and let your body come to rest for a moment. Imagine the seventh story, the story of reconciliation, as a tiny point of light. The story comes through your ears or you see it lived out in someone’s life. It enters who you are. It’s a story of peace, whose hero is love. It’s a story of justice and equity and safety and joy. Imagine that story as a little point of light that comes to rest in the center of your being. Then imagine that little point of light becoming a pool of light and a spring or a fountain of light. Just for the next few moments, picture that point of light growing within you.
Imagine yourself becoming full of that light. Now imagine that light filling you and that light shining out through you. Imagine now that this light coming out from you touches those around you, those in your pew, everyone else in the sanctuary, those in your family, your neighbors, others in your neighborhood, those in your workplace, people throughout Rolla and Phelps County, and all others you meet. Imagine that this light embraces them and also that it fills them.
We all know that there are many other stories at work in the world, stories that are wounding people, stories that maybe wounded each of us. Let’s realize that we can be tempted to respond to those stories that wound in a way that continues that wounding story. For a few moments, let’s hold in our heart a prayer, a request, a plea for help, that our lives would not be sucked into the stories that wound, but that we would live on a steady course of a story that heals.
Holy God, May I live in the story of peace, whose hero is love. May that story live in me. May the story of Your peace bring healing to us and to the world. And may the story of Your love bring healing to us and to the world. Amen.
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