Lord, What Do I Do With My Jar?

But we have this treasure in jars of clay to show that this all-surpassing power is from God and not from us.

2 Corinthians 4:7 (NiV)

I would challenge you to study this a little deeper, Paul points out that a jar of clay or an earthen vessel is fragile, breaks and can be made from common soils of the earth and to think of our life as a jar of clay.

I would like to take you on a fictional journey about a non-fictional truth.

Picture a group of people standing in a dark cave, each sporting their vase for others to see. They try to be proud of what they have. They compare it to others’ vases and maybe even talk about their battle scars with others. “Yeah, this is where I was trying to help someone and crash, my life came apart.” “This crack here… you don’t want to know.” But without Christ, the conversations between everyone there usually go to something like how the vase looks, its purpose, maybe even self-preservation. Someone says, “My vase is for holding water, so that’s what I’m gonna do with my vase.” And they go get water and put it in the vase, and the water seeps through the cracks of that vase. A mess follows. The ground around the vase is wet and muddy now. The result of what the vase can’t do is frustrating, so the person tries to fix their vase. They take mud and pack it in the cracks, but it won’t work. Now it’s just an uglier vase surrounded by a bigger mess. Others start to get different things to put in their vases. “ I want mine to hold wine!” “I want to put heavy cream in mine!” “I want to put milk in mine…help me find a cow!” Many things are thought of, but everyone has cracks and gaps, brokenness that will not allow liquid to remain in the vase as they wanted.  Then Jesus appears. He was always there but quietly at the outer edge of all the group. He was listening to all the conversations and comments as they were said. He approached one who was confused by all the conversations, one who didn’t know what to do, one who saw mess after mess, but had a broken willing heart. The lad said, “Jesus, I need you”. Without a word, Jesus took a candle and lit it, and placed it in the bottom of the lad’s vase. The light began to shine right through the cracks. In amazement, others backed up and let the beautiful display of light beams shine right past them. In our brokenness and what may seem to be a disaster of a life, God can take it and shine the presence of His Gospel light out to others who need to see it. We need to be reminded and know that it is entirely His work through us!

“Here seems to be an allusion to the lamps which Gideon’s soldiers carried in earthen pitchers, Jdg. 7:16. The treasure of gospel light and grace is put into earthen vessels. The ministers of the gospel are weak and frail creatures, and subject to like passions and infirmities as other men; they are mortal, and soon broken in pieces. And God has so ordered it that the weaker the vessels are the stronger his power may appear to be, that the treasure itself should be valued the more. Note, There is an excellency of power in the gospel of Christ, to enlighten the mind, to convince the conscience, to convert the soul, and to rejoice the heart; but all this power is from God the author, and not from men, who are but instruments, so that God in all things must be glorified.” (Matthew Henry Commentary)

Jesus is the treasure. The Holy Spirit lives within us if we are saved. Jesus can use us no matter the condition of our lives. And that reveals His power through us.

If we don’t feel that Jesus is using our life for His glory, then what needs to happen is we must turn the focus of our heart from what we see around us (the mud, the lost water, the destruction), including ourselves (the fragile jar of clay), to focus on Jesus. Let Him do His work through us. Remember Peter sinking into the water?

For we who live are always being given over to death for Jesus' sake, so that the life of Jesus also may be manifested in our mortal flesh. So death is at work in us, but life in you. (2 Corinthians 4:11-12)

Lord, what do I do with my jar?  I think the Lord is saying, “Let me show My Life through it.”

—Brian Rainey

*Please be advised that this blog represents the views, opinions and beliefs of the writer and does not necessarily reflect those of our church leadership or denominational affiliation.

The Family Meal

She hadn’t been gone a week.

We sat silently at the kitchen table, bravely trying to ignore the lonely, empty chair between our boys. We picked at the blueberry muffins—just out of the oven—and wiped the tears that trickled down our cheeks.    

Somehow, we knew Sunday breakfast would never be the same.

Tracy, our only daughter, had gone to college.

The circle had been broken. Nothing would be the same.

Looking back on that morning so long ago, I think we somehow understood, quite painfully, that something familiar, precious, comfortable, and meaningful—an essential family ritual, our family ritual—was changed forever. We were heart-broken and I don’t think I am overstating this. It was more than just missing a beloved daughter or a sister. It was more than missing the playful, weekly squabble over who found the muffins with the most berries. I think we were grieving the loss of life as we knew it, our pretty happy family system, a system that often circled around shared meals together. The void, the change, hit us hard that first Sunday breakfast.

You see, eating together as a family had always been a top priority for Kenny and me. When we said “I do” and “I will” nearly fifty years ago, we both somehow understood that to also mean “I will eat with you forever.” Looking at the two of us, you can see we took those vows quite seriously!

The family mealtime had been the practice of both of our families of origin, so we naturally adopted this comfortable pattern. As our children joined our family, eating together continued to be a valued priority. Early on, though it wasn’t always practical or even possible to share every meal, dinnertime was often the highlight of each day…for so many reasons. Around the table, we prayed, we were nourished, we chatted about the happenings of the day, we asked questions, we looked each other in the eye, we touched each other, we talked about current events, we planned outings and vacations, we shared disappointments and fears and dreams, we advised one another, we ironed out schedules, we told jokes, we established expectations and rules, we meted out discipline and punishment…we did life.

Sometimes it was light-hearted and fun; other times, it was uncomfortable and hard. Sometimes it went well; sometimes it flopped. Sometimes it was at a fast food joint or sometimes at a fancy restaurant. Sometimes it was lunch and sometimes it was breakfast. Sometimes it was steak and sometimes it was peanut butter and jelly. But mealtime together was always a place for communication and connection. It was a place of incidental training and the passing on of significant values. It was a place for our children to learn to recognize and then thank God for all our blessings. It was a place to learn good manners and respect for each other, a place to practice healthy eating habits, a place to learn to listen well and speak up, a place to figure out relationships and authority structures, a place to be heard and a place to belong. A place where no one could hide and walls would come down. A place of safety and unconditional love.

I know, as flawed parents, our mealtimes weren’t always perfect and helpful and grand. I don’t want you to think that. But we battled and struggled for them none the less. Their importance was our firm conviction, especially as the kids entered their teen years. Because of crazy job schedules, sports, meetings, youth group, church, friends, homework and the like, it was hard work, an almost impossible dream to sit down somewhere to eat at the same time. But it was a war we were willing to wage. We wanted to stay involved in their lives, to have a voice, to be connected. We took advantage of nearly every flimsy opportunity we had. And we could almost always count on Sunday morning breakfast with blueberry muffins before we headed off the church. I can almost taste them now…

Statistics and articles from the worlds of psychology, education, and medicine confirm what we have believed for so long. Family meals help children thrive in many areas of life including academics, nutrition, mental health, lifestyle choices, and the list goes on. And now that we are old and Kenny’s gray (smile) and all our chicks have long flown our coop across the map, a family meal, rare as it is, is our fondest desire and greatest joy. There are twenty three of us now; we need a much bigger table and a whole lot more food, but what a blessing!

So I was stopped short reading through Acts this past week in Acts 2:46 and 47. I loved the reminder.

46 Every day they continued to meet together in the temple courts. They broke bread in their homes and ate together with glad and sincere hearts, 47 praising God and enjoying the favor of all the people. And the Lord added to their number daily those who were being saved.

This scripture passage is right after Pentecost, the day the Spirit of God ignited the early church with power to turn the world upside down. Three thousand people trusted in Jesus Christ that day and every day after, others chose to follow Him too. So many new Christians who needed to be taught God’s Word and needed fellowship with God’s people if they were going to grow in their faith and become effective witnesses! What a huge job for the early church! The leaders of the early church desired not only to make converts; they longed to make disciples. So they gathered at the Temple each day for instruction and prayer. As Warren Wiersbe says, “Their Christian faith was a day-to-day reality, not a once-a-week routine.”

But this is the part I love. After the teaching time, they went to each other’s homes and ate together. Like a family meal! Nourishment. Discussion. Sharing. Laughter. Questions. Answers. Relationships. Encouragement. Communication. Plans. Problem solving. Belonging. And they were glad and sincere. They praised God. They enjoyed the favor of ALL men. Their love, unity, honesty, and generosity were winsome and attractive to those outside the community of believers. Curious, more and more folks desired to come learn about this Jesus, the Savior of the world. God sent more and more people their way.

Yes, I am persuaded that our wise God really likes the idea of family meals. I believe the brothers and sisters in the early church did too.

Around the table, strangers become friends, defenses are lowered and skeptics are disarmed. Families are built, friendships are built, people are built, churches are built. People are loved. God is revealed. Yes!

But I also am of the conviction that the practice of family mealtime, of sharing a meal together with others, is nearly obsolete, out-of-date, old-fashioned. It certainly is on the endangered species list. Even though we read the world’s statistics that affirm our biblical patterns, most of us give in to the esteemed cultural pressures of busyness, self-centeredness, simplicity, comfort, independence, and privacy. Exhausted from our packed-out schedules, we pull into our driveways, rush in our front doors, and lock them tightly against any interruption. We pop in a frozen pizza, turn on the TV, and kick back in our lounge chairs as we scroll through FaceBook until we fall asleep. All we want is peace and quiet and relaxation.

Even if we do sit down to eat as a family unit, everyone has a fork in one hand and an electronic device in the other. And ear phones jammed in their ears. And the TV blaring from the living room.

But these practices, these flawed and selfish values don’t lend themselves to hospitality, to leisurely, intentionally, purposefully sitting around a table and generously sharing our lives with others, especially our children. Or God’s children.

Maybe that’s why we don’t experience the joy we would like. Maybe that’s why we aren’t radically building up our faith community. Maybe that’s why our families are fragmented. Just a thought.

Tracy has been gone since 1989. My boys left not long after. But that was not the end of “family” meals for us. Kenny and I still enjoy blueberry muffins on Sunday mornings (if I get up early enough) and now we don’t have to fight with anybody over the last one or the best one. Kenny is always the winner. We still eat together every evening and just about any other time we can. Our family ritual.

And we have mended that broken family circle and enlarged its definition quite a bit. We have a lot more “family” joining us at the table, children of our hearts whose lives we pray we can influence for the Kingdom of God. Around the family table, there is food and conversation. There is encouragement and exhortation. There are questions and answers…or not. There is mutual respect and caring. There is joy and friendship. There is safety and unconditional love. There is belonging.

I still have a whole lot of life—and muffins—to share.

And God has a very big family.

Won’t you build a circle at your table?   

—Eileen Hill

*Please be advised that this blog represents the views, opinions and beliefs of the writer and does not necessarily reflect those of our church leadership or denominational affiliation.

Speak Less, Love More

So also the tongue is a small member, yet it boasts of great things. How great a forest is set ablaze by such a small fire! (James 3:5)

Ahh, for the days of purity and simplicity. I long for them.

The Apostle Paul longed for them. He feared for the Corinthian church, that they may have been led astray from what he called “the simplicity and purity of devotion to Christ” (II Corinthians 11:3, NASB).

The 15th-Century religious cleric Thomas à Kempis said of these things: Purity and simplicity are the two wings with which man soars above the earth and all temporary nature. If he’s right about this, and I believe that he is, the question the statement begs is, “What are we soaring toward?”

A better rendering of the question might be: “Toward whom are we soaring?” That’s because, while we’re obligated as Christians to be truth-seekers, we need to recognize that, first and foremost, the truth lies in a person, in He who declared Himself to be the truth (John 14:6).

It’s one thing to be devoted to the truth. It’s quite another to be devoted to the author of truth.

To seek Jesus, one must have a degree of tunnel-vision. We must refuse to be distracted by the issues of life. We must remember that the main thing is to keep the main thing the main thing.

Jesus is the main thing. We ought not to be distracted from Him.

A works-based theology distracts us from entering, by grace, what the author of Hebrews refers to as the “Sabbath-rest for the people of God” (4:9). Likewise, we should be careful not to be distracted from pure and simple devotion to Christ.

Yet, my lamentation persists. “Ahh, for the days of purity and simplicity.”

I lament because the times in which we live are political, polarized times. It seems that everywhere we look, especially since this is an election year, politics is everywhere—especially that of a particular stripe and color.

Camps that had been formed well before the death of George Floyd are now expressing their grievances in various ways—some of which are productive, others not so much. Outside the church, people are now, in the most literal of ways, at each other’s throats—or brandishing weapons, either to defend themselves or to intimidate others. Inside the church, the greater Christian church, I think that what had been a sanctuary may become its own tinderbox, if we’re not careful.

As a result, when I now go out in public, I half-expect that because I’m of a certain demographic, I’m to be hated by other demographics. Or, at the least, I expect that they’re expecting that I’m going to be hating them because of their demographic. The culture and the media have uncomfortably shaped my expectations, twisting them in ways I had never anticipated.

These aren’t real expectations, but I nonetheless feel programmed. No particular inter-racial/ethnic interactions that I’ve recently had have made me feel that way; those interactions have actually been quite wonderful.

No, It’s due to what the media has been feeding me, in the last month. As much as I’d like to cheer on one side or the other, the fights have lately been bloodier than ever; it’s well beyond rhetoric, at his point. Lives and livelihoods have been lost. And, more than ever, my stomach has been turning.

So I’ve tamped down the media; I’ve tried to simplify my thought processes. I’ve tried to eliminate the things that distract me from pure and simple devotion to Christ. As I inwardly seek to upwardly connect with God in a more singular fashion, I try and outwardly love others with greater purity and simplicity.

Yet, multi-directional simplicity is somewhat challenging, these days. As I’ve mentioned, we’re repeatedly being told to look at things through a certain lens. As this challenge keeps presenting itself, I keep going back to purity and simplicity, in all three directions: in relation to God, to others, and within myself.

I’ve resolved to push aside political agendas and love simply—with all the purity of heart that I can muster, with all the devotion with which God may enable me.

With this in mind, while some are calling for us to talk more, I’m calling for us to talk less. To be clear, I’m not telling anyone to “Shut up.” I’m simply asking for us to dial down the rhetoric.

While some would say that greater talking is constructive, I’m calling it destructive. While others will exercise their intention to talk more, I’m going to exercise my intention and talk less.

* * *

Andy Stanley is all about intentionality. The Christian Post quotes him, here, telling his congregation to ,“Look for an opportunity to love unconditionally someone with whom you disagree politically.”

His message sounds good, on the surface. But, as I’m hearing the Apostle Paul, Stanley’s message distracts from the idea of purity and simplicity. With too many words, he goes beyond looking for opportunities to love unconditionally and instructs others on what ought to be the direction of their love.

My reaction is this: To stop the command at “love unconditionally” leaves room for the Holy Spirit to direct the heart—whether it be toward someone with whom we might disagree politically, or toward another. To add to the command distracts from the apostle’s message.

Morgan Freeman seemed to agree with the apostle. In a 2005 interview with Mike Wallace (available here), he was asked about the subject of racism and what should be done about it. Though he wasn’t speaking on the subject of devotion to Jesus, he did suggest the need—at least in relation to one another—to simplify our language, and therefore our thought-processes.

Freeman’s answer to racism: Stop talking about it. He went on to explain that our lives need not be complicated by the hyphenated labels that some insist ought to be attached to our identities.

Of all the radical ideas being pushed in the culture—and, yes, even the church—Freeman’s may be the most radical. (Not that he is even pushing it; he only said so in response to a question.)

That’s because, while so many are ratcheting up the volume from so many speakers, from so many various perspectives, Freeman asks that we do something different: instead of trying to drown one another out, with more and more takes on the political climate, consider actually turning the volume down.

We might say that Freeman was speaking during a different time, a different era. I would then say that, in the larger sense, his message is timeless. It’s as timeless as Paul’s message of grounding us in simplicity, for it encourages us to do the same with one another—specifically, to consider speaking less and loving more.

And I have found, especially in relationship with my wife, that to consider saying less is to first consider feeling less about what I might consider important and instead consider looking for more common ground. I’ve found that when I consider putting my feelings aside, I can love more effectively.

I wonder if we can’t consider doing this more, within the culture. But I think the answer is that we can’t, because we’ve been more polarized and more radicalized than ever. I’m starting to think that the culture is irredeemable and is too lost for this to any longer be a relevant question.

The month of June may have turned me into a cynic, at least in relation to the greater culture in which we live. I hope this feeling doesn’t persist; I’m open to God directing me otherwise.

I’m hoping we can speak less within the church, and leave behind the divisive encumbrances of politics and other division. I hope that we would instead consider that we are one, as Jesus and the Father are one, and that Jesus wants us to be brought into complete unity, so that, in this oneness, the world would know that Jesus was sent by the world to redeem it from all division (John 17:23).

* * *

I hope that pure and simple devotion to Christ would, above all else, be that which unites us. I fear that, once we lose sight of that, then the church is in as much danger as the culture and we may be about to fracture beyond repair. I hope to not become a cynic in relation to the church, as well.

I pray that God would heal our wounds, that reconciliation on all levels would be sought, and that every ounce of division would set aside. I pray for pure and simple devotion to Christ. Paul didn’t think that was too much to ask. Neither do I.

—Kevin Hutchins

*Please be advised that this blog represents the views, opinions and beliefs of the writer and does not necessarily reflect those of our church leadership or denominational affiliation.