On the inside cover of my pocket-sized moleskine notebook/journal, I've written one of my favorite Biblia passages. It is fairly common, not least of all because of the band Jars of Clay, whose name is taken from it, but it took me until very recently to find the actual passage, and when I did, I fell in love with it.
But we have this treasure in jars of clay to show that this all-surpassing power is from God and not from us. We are hard pressed on every side, but not crushed; perplexed, but not in despair; persecuted, but not abandoned; struck down, but not destroyed. We always carry around in our body the death of Jesus, so that the life of Jesus may also be revealed in our body. For we who are alive are always being given over to death for Jesus' sake, so that his life may be revealed in our mortal body. So then, death is at work in us, but life is at work in you. (2 Corinthians 4:7-12)
That last sentence took me a while to grasp. "Death is at work in us." I couldn't figure out what that meant. I mean, I see death at work around us. But in us? And then I realized just how much death already is a part of us. Each and every time we sin, we die a little bit. Whenever we stray from the life Jesus desires for us, we die a little bit. We are "born-again" Christians, which has the implication that we died once, and only once, in sin, and were reborn in Christ. But I feel like we are actually reborn continuously, as part of some sick cycle of sin and forgiveness that will never stop tormenting us.
Wait, wait. Tormenting us? That sounds mighty depressing. I don't feel tortured all the time? In fact, most of the time I feel fine. Of course, that could be part of the problem. A friend of mine recently sprained his ankle, and he was walking around on it, riding his bike, acting like nothing happened. He said, "It's actually starting to feel better, and the swelling is going down." Isn't that the time when danger is at its highest? When we are mostly like to break ourselves even more? When we feel fine seems to be the time when we must be most alert. Fortunately, we should have the energy to maintain that alertness. But maybe not. Another friend of mine puts off work a lot, though given, this is not unlike many college students. He ends up staying up for hours at night, into the morning, completing tasks assigned long ago, so that he may be prepared for class at 8 or 9 AM (again, not entirely uncommon for many people). He keeps his body in tiredness and weakness, though he may not realize it. How prepared can we possibly be to protect ourselves spiritually if we cannot protect ourselves physically? The body is a temple of the Holy Spirit, right?
Go back to those jars of clay. Spiritual jars, never breaking, holding the treasure that is Jesus. But I believe they are physical jars, too. It is not exactly beyond the Bible (and especially Paul) to be duplicitous. Jesus was wholly man and wholly god, so perhaps our jars of clay are wholly physical and wholly spiritual. Connectedness of body and spirit. Makes sense to me, anyway.
Now, I had no intention of saying, well, most of that. I was going to write about something else entirely. But I can link the two together, I think. Our jars never break...right? Well, no, they break all the time, and then we have to rebuild them. (We die with sin and are reborn with repentance.) But we never have to rebuild them alone. Through it all, God is with us. He never turns his back. We throw our jars against brick walls until all that is left of them are tiny ceramic shards of our life, and he gives us super glue. And none of that weak elementary school Elmer's junk that one weird kid at the next table use to eat, either. I mean, don't-get-it-on-your-finger-unless-you-wanna-be-stuck-to-the-next-thing-you-touch-for-the-rest-of-your-life super glue. And then how to we thank God for his magnificent arts and crafts skills? We throw that jar of ours against a wall again. Yet he refuses to judge us. He's standing right there, ready to fix that broken jar again. Amazing.
So, how should we thank him? We can be there for others. We can share the glue. We can become the righteousness of God (2 Corinthians 5:21). We can love each other.
Do not judge, and you will not be judged. Do not condemn, and you will not be condemned. Forgive, and you will be forgiven. Give, and it will be given to you. A good measure, pressed down, shaken together and running over, will be poured into your lap. For with the measure you use, it will be measured to you. (Luke 6:37-38)
It looks like I have written a sort of miniature sermon. That was not my intention. I'm not trying to teach anyone anything. I don't think I could if I tried. So even though it sounds like I may be directing this outwards, it is just some of the stuff I've been working through lately. I've been in Isaiah lately, reading examples of people turning away from God. But early on, God gives us his promise.
Though your sins are like scarlet, they shall be as white as snow; though they are red as crimson, they shall be like wool. (Isaiah 1:18)
That's no fleeting guarantee. It is always there, and as I break my jar, and see others breaking theirs, I see God keeping that promise, so that someday, we may be pressed down upon without being crushed.
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