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I suppose one of the reasons I love
Norman Maclean’s book and Robert Redford’s movie, A River
Runs Through It, is because there are precious
few movies which paint clergy in a good light. Few movies
are so painfully honest about PKs (preacher’s kids) and the
family life in general, with all the joys and sorrows that
go along with it. Also, it is just such a beautiful movie,
set in the majestic mountains of Montana, the rolling, rocky
fishing streams, and the small town life of the Presbyterian
preacher and his sons.
I remember the scene where Norman comes
back home to Missoula from Cornell University. He’s been
away for six years, returning now to his small hometown on
the plains. The first night, his father calls him into his
study, invites him to sit down and, in his very formal
Presbyterian way, tells his son how proud he is of his study
and his degrees. Then he asks, “And to what use shall you
put this achievement?” Somewhat sheepishly and uncertain,
Norman replies, “I’m not exactly sure…I’ve applied for some
teaching positions.”
His father questions further: “And do you
find that rewarding? That is to say, do you feel this could
be your calling?”
Norman hesitates. His mother calls them
to dinner, breaking the uncomfortable silence, and the
question is left hanging. It is an eternal question which is
never quite answered for certain, but it is the question
which comes down to us today: Could this be your
calling?
Our theme for these weeks is all about God’s call to be a
Christian Community:
God’s call and claim on each of our
lives
God’s commission for us as a community
Last week we introduced Paul’s first
letter to Corinth. This week, the second. It’s a fascinating
letter, a lot like playing Jeopardy. It is as if we have the
answers without the questions. Paul is obviously writing to
address a variety of questions:
-
troublesome questions
of his own authority and intentions
-
lingering questions
about a “painful visit” he paid to them
-
probing questions
about their ministry, their generosity, church finances,
theology and practice of the Christian life
Through it all, you can feel his
passionate love for this fledgling church. At the very heart
of it, he affirms their common calling to ministry: “Therefore,
having this ministry by the mercy of God, we do not lose
heart.”
1. Simply put…we have this ministry.
For St. Paul, it’s not an option. It’s
not a choice. It is a given—this calling of ours to serve in
the name and spirit of Jesus Christ. It is a ministry which
has been entrusted to all of us, a calling of God placed
upon all who are part of the Body, a task given to us by the
mercy of God. We have this ministry. In the United Methodist
Church, we affirm that ministry is not the work of the
clergy, it is the work of the whole people of God in service
in the world.
During the years I was at Dexter, Don
Strobe was the preacher at First Church Ann Arbor. He was
and still is one of my mentors, and I considered it a great
honor to be one of his successors in that pulpit. Now in his
retirement, even after a stroke, his sharp, creative mind
and powerful voice witness to the truth of the Gospel.
He is also a great storyteller. Don once
told a story which he said came from a meeting of the school
board in Fort Worth, Texas. It had been a particularly
contentious meeting in a contentious time. In order to try
to be conciliatory, at the end of the meeting, the
superintendent stood up and said: “Now I know this has been
difficult, and many of you may still have concerns. I just
want you to know that if you have any questions, you can
always call this number.” He started to give a phone
number when suddenly the assistant superintendent jumped up
in the back of the room and said: “Hey! Wait a
minute. That’s my phone number!”
In our baptism, God has given our phone
number to a hurting world. Through our covenant of
membership in this church, God has put us “on call” as
witnesses for Jesus Christ. We have this ministry, by the
mercy of God.
Here’s another good story from another
good storyteller, Eddie Fox, the director of World
Evangelism for the World Methodist Conference. Eddie tells
the story of the man who injured his thumb at work. He went
to his supervisor and reported it, and the supervisor told
him to go to the clinic in the beautiful, big red brick
building on the corner.
When he walked in, he found himself in a
small room with a desk, two doors and a sign over each door:
“Injury—Illness.” It was his thumb, so obviously he
went through the door marked “Injury,” and he found himself
in a small room with a desk, two doors and two signs:
“Internal—External.” So he went through the door
marked “External” and found himself in a small room with a
desk, two doors and two signs: “Major—Minor.”
Well, it was just his thumb, so he walked through the door
marked “Minor” and found himself in a small room with two
doors and two signs: “Requiring Surgery—No Surgery
Required.” He didn’t think this would take more than a
few stitches, so he went through the door marked “No Surgery
Required” and found himself in a small room with a desk with
two doors and two signs: “Long-term Treatment—Short-term
Treatment.” He knew this wouldn’t require
long-term care, so he went through the door marked
“Short-term Treatment” and found himself back out on the
street.
So he went back to work and the
supervisor asked, “Did you find the clinic?” “Yes.” “Well,
did they do you any good?” He responded, “Well, I can’t say
as they did me any good. But you know, that’s the best
organized place I’ve ever seen.”
Now we Methodists are great when it comes
to organization. But no matter how well organized we are, if
we aren’t doing people good, we aren’t fulfilling our
ministry:
To share the good news of God’s love
To comfort the grieving
To welcome the stranger
To heal the broken
To care for the homeless
To carry out the unfinished work and
witness of Christ in this world
“We
have this ministry, by the mercy of God.”
Then
St. Paul mixes his metaphors and shifts his focus…
2. We have this treasure in earthen vessels.
The treasure—this priceless gift of the
Gospel, this calling into ministry, this Word of
salvation—we have this treasure in clay jars and cracked
pots.
Last week I talked about my Asbury
College days. One of the “traditions” at Asbury was what we
called “Senior Panic.” It usually happened in the spring
semester, when graduating senior guys realized they hadn’t
yet found a wife! Once they did find a willing woman, the
next step was getting engaged. In the dorm, we would all
strategize about how we were going to present the diamond to
our intended. I remember Charlie Van Meter decided to give a
diamond ring to his fiancé as the prize in the bottom of a
box of Cracker Jack. We all thought it was silly and risky,
but you see, St. Paul would understand. Like a diamond in a
Cracker Jack box, like a pearl of great price found in a
field, like a priceless gift in the bottom of a McDonald’s
paper bag, wonder of wonders, God has chosen to entrust this
ministry, this treasure, this gift, to folks like you and
me.
Listen
to the Eugene Peterson translation of this passage:
If you only look at us, you might well
miss the brightness. We carry this precious Message around
in the unadorned clay pots of our ordinary lives. That’s to
prevent anyone from confusing God’s incomparable power with
us. As it is, there’s not much chance of that. You know for
yourselves, we’re not much to look at.
Just a
bunch of clay jars and cracked pots.
Bishop Will Willimon was for many years
the chaplain at Duke University, and prior to that, a local
church pastor. He tells a story from his days at Northside
Church in Greenville, SC. He says it was the day of
preparation for their “high holy days”—the annual Bazaar.
Like all clergy, he was trying to hide
away in the sacred sanctuary of his study to do something of
eternal significance, when the president of the UMW burst
into his office and said: “Unless you know how to unclog a
kitchen sink, your only ministry right now is to find a
plumber!”
“Mind you,” says Willimon, “this was said
to a seminary-trained, divinely-called, spirit-filled,
episcopally-ordained man of God!”
Willimon says:
This is the church to which I have been
called. This church with unpaid bills, air conditioners that
don’t work, leaking roofs, clogged drains, altar guild
clutter behind the communion table. It isn’t much of a
church, but it is the only one we have been given. Nearly
2000 years after the first Pentecost, the church still looks
like that gathering of Christians at 435 Summit Dr.,
Greenville, South Carolina.
(William Willimon, “Corpus Christi:
Carnal Thoughts on a
Spiritual Day,” Christian Century,
June 3, 1981, page 634)
St. Paul knew the Corinthian church
wasn’t perfect. He knew all about the infighting over
authority, the squabbles over spiritual gifts, the
immorality, selfishness and pride, the caucus groups
caucusing and fractions forming. But in spite of it all, he
could still see them as the Body of Christ, the bearer of
the Gospel—this ministry, this treasure in clay jars and
cracked pots.
3. To show that the transcendent power belongs to God and
not to us.
Here, of course, is the good news. The
good news is all about God’s transcendent power at work in
us, God’s spirit in ministry through us, God’s grace being
seen through us. And if that transcendent power could be
seen through the cracked pots and clay jars of Corinth,
there is hope for us.
I hate to be the one to have to break
this news to you, but this United Methodist Church of ours
is not perfect. And though I hate to be the one to have to
tell you this, the truth is that even this particular United
Methodist Church—though it gets pretty darn close—might not
be perfect. And though I hate to tell you, I suppose I might
even go so far as to say your clergy aren’t perfect. And for
that matter, neither are you. But it’s not really about us
anyway, since the transcendent power belongs to God and not
to us.
Some of us grew up on “The Gospel
According to Peanuts.” I remember a Peanuts cartoon where
Charlie Brown is wistfully considering his future. He looks
at his puffy little hands and says: “These are the hands
which will one day accomplish great things. These are the
hands which will some day do marvelous works. These hands
might build mighty bridges or heal the sick or hit home
runs. These hands might change the course of human
history.”
Then brash and ever-honest Lucy
interrupts his reverie, grabs his wrist and says, “These
hands have jelly on them.”
Sure they do. But God has chosen to
entrust his precious ministry and this priceless treasure
into these stubby-fingered, jelly-stained hands. And in
spite of our weaknesses and wanderings, our fumbles and
foibles, God’s transcendent power can still be seen in us.
When I
was a youth back at Wesley Woods Camp, we used to sing:
Let the spirit of Jesus be seen in me,
all his wonderful power and purity.
O thou spirit divine, all my nature
refine
till the beauty of Jesus be seen in me.
Had I known then what I know now about my
ability to live that out, I might not have been so bold in
the singing. But on the other hand, that’s just what St.
Paul had in mind:
We have this ministry, but the
mercy of God;
we have this treasure in common
clay jars,
to show that the transcendent power
belongs
to God and not to us.
Let the
beauty of Jesus be seen in us.
Let it be.
Let it be. |
