2 Corinthians 4:6-9 Review and Expositor, 94 (1997)

2 Corinthians 4:6-9

Alan C. Thompson

It was the advent season, and the Minister of Education, who had a gift for sticking his foot in his mouth, was publicizing the Lottie Moon Christmas offering. The WMU had created a poster surrounded by lights. The closer we moved toward the goal, the more lights were turned on. So on this particular Sunday, the Minister of Education announced loudly, "As you can see, Lottie Moon is half-litr

In another church, the lady who was the "guardian of all things ancient" approached me elfter church. She wanted to complain about the recent renovations in the sanctuary. She was especially disturbed that we had removed the dark brown and dingy yellow glass from the windows and replaced it with clear glass to brighten the sanctuary. "Now you oughtn't have taken out that stained glass," she said with a frown. "Those windows were given in memory of someone."

"In memory of whom?" I asked. "Well, now, I don't remember," she said. In another church I heard about a man who had opposed the installation of a

new organ, and now that it was in place he swore that it was much louder than the old organ. So every Sunday he wore a pair of earmuffs during worship, only removing them to hear the sermon.

No doubt you have met them as well—those crack-pots who add their own peculiar spice to church life. Every church has them. And while I found the above incidents amusing, sometimes the encounters have not been so amusing. Human frailty and weakness can surface in the forms of egotism, aggressiveness, suspicion, dependency, negativism, and a host of other personality disorders. Wayne Oates makes the unsettling observation:

[P]eople who live in a perpetual state of disorder irritate, aggravate, and frustrate us. They wear on our nerves. They enrage or depress us or alternately do both Our Christian conscience disturbs us because we find something of ourselves in such persons.1

We, too, as "pots," are not without our own "cracks." We are all, pardon the expression, "God's Crackpots." It is a reality we can try to deny, or gracefully embrace. The apostle Paul embraces it fully in his words to the Corinthian church in 2 Cor. 4:6-9.

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In 2 Corinthians, we find Paul in the thick of his ministry, stripped of any idealistic illusions he may have had early on. He may have hoped for acceptance and appreciation, but what he often found was rejection and attack. He may have hoped for harmonious, spiritually mature churches, but nowhere is it clearer than in Corinth that this was not always the case. "After twenty years of it, during which he passed through so many trials, disappointments, and difficulties, he speaks as a servant of the Gospel in the midst of the daily grind."2

So many of us are there as well—in the thick of ministry, slogging away in the midst of disappointments and frustrations and difficult people, with the debris of shattered illusions at our feet. And, lest we forget, this is a state not exclusively reserved for the professional clergy. The church offers people a variety of opportunities to be over-worked and under-appreciated. In such a situation, we are tempted to complain against God and defend our own efforts. But the apostle Paul does just the opposite. He emphasizes his own weaknesses and limitations, and sings a doxology to God.

We have this treasure in "earthen vessels" (ostrakinios skeuesin). A number of possibilities have been suggested for the background of this metaphor: The prophetic image of humanity as a clay pot (Isa. 30:14; Jer. 18:6,19:11), the Hellenistic idea of the body as a container for the soul,3 the common ancient practice of hiding items of great value in cheap earthenware, or from the viewpoint illustrated in Sifre Deut. 48:

[A]s it is not possible for wine to be stored in golden or silver vessels, but only in one which is the least among the vessels, an earthenware one, so also the words of the Torah can be kept only with one who is humble in his own eyes.4

Because Corinthian pottery was well-known in the ancient world, others have suggested that Paul may have in mind the small pottery lamps which were cheap and fragile—which would nicely complement his prior reference to God's light (V.6).

The adjective, "earthen," also takes us back to Genesis 2 where we find humanity being created from the dust of the ground—God formed adam from the adamah, "humans" from the "humus."

Regardless of the source, the metaphor's point is one of contrast and irony. Using a common term for a cheap, common object, Paul emphasizes the lack of glory in the vessel in relation to the glory of the treasure (thesauron) placed inside. It is our practice to place our treasures in huge vaults of shining steel, our jewels in ornate wooden boxes lined with soft fabric or in expensive display cases. But God has placed His great treasure in common clay pots like you and me—pots with flaws and cracks and imperfections. Within the frail creatures we are can be found the treasure of "the light of the knowledge of the glory of God in the face of Christ."

In describing the precious treasure we have received, Paul says that God has "shined his light in our hearts." The apostle's invocation of the metaphor "light"

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to describe God's work in our hearts is not surprising given his experience on the Damascus Road. The blinding light from heaven which overwhelmed his eyes also overwhelmed his soul. In that one experience, even in his blindness, Paul's eyes were opened to his own weakness and fragility and to the power and scope of God's grace made available in Christ. The light that shined that day was the "knowledge of the glory of God in the face of Christ" (v. 6). Stripped of metaphor, this is the treasure which Paul describes: a personal knowledge of God and his glory in and through Christ.

Why this ironic divine action of placing so precious and glorious a treasure in so common and frail a container? So that there would never be any mistaking the container for the contents: "in order to show that the all-surpassing power is from God and not from us" (v. 7). Contrary to the opinion of some in the church who have inflated egos, or those who would elevate pastor or deacon to the level of demigod, none of us are the treasure. We are fragile and imperfect vessels, one and all.

Years ago when Mohammed Ali was in his prime, he was about to take off on an airplane flight. Following standard procedure, the stewardess asked all passengers to fasten their seat belts. Noticing that he hadn't fastened his, the stewardess gently reminded him to buckle up. In his usual brash style, Ali retorted, "Superman don't need no seat belt!" Quickly but gently the stewardess reminded him, "Superman don't need no airplane either." And Ali reportedly fastened his belt.

It's a humbling reality, but we need the reminder. We are weak, frail human beings. There are no "super-Christians," and even though we have "super power" (hê huperbolê tés aúnameos) within us, it is not our doing but the work of God.

Anyone who studies the church's 2000 year history would have to be blind to miss this truth at work. There are heresies, conflicts and schisms, violence, arrogance and ignorance, failures and follies. Yet, in spite of it all, the church has continued and prospered. How could it be? It is because the all-surpassing, extraordinary, abundant, and preeminent power that has been at work across the ages came not from imperfect Christians, but from our perfect indwelling treasure, Jesus Christ.

In verse 8, Paul begins describing the practical implications of this reality. The apostle, in the thick of his ministry, explains how that priceless treasure within has gotten him through a litany of difficulties and trials. He uses four pairs of terms, given in antithetical form, contrasting each pair with an alla ou ("but not"). Paul's choice of terms are not only descriptive, but also biographical.

"We are hard pressed on every side, but not crushed." Thlibö ("to pressure") and stenoxöreö are linked often enough in hellenistic (Epictetus, Diss. I. 25,26) and biblical literature (Job 18:11; Deut 28:53 ff.; Isa 8:22; 30:6; Esth 1:1, LXX) to suggest that this is a stereotypical formulation. In Paul's experience at Corinth, in which he was fiercely tested and his apostleship was questioned, we can see how he was "under pressure" but not "flattened." This testing may be precisely what he has in mind as he employs this formula.

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A pastor with whom I served in Florida was locking up his office following the Sunday morning worship service. A member burst in asking to talk to him privately. This person spent five minutes complaining about his preaching. "Your preaching is just not evangelistic enough. People are lost and they need to hear the gospel." The church member left, and the pastor was admittedly shaken by the complaint and was prepared to go home and give it more thought. But before he could get out of the door a second church member burst in with a very different complaint: "I just feel led to tell you that your preaching is too evangelistic. Most of us are already Christians, and we need something to grow on." Thanking this member for the feedback, he smiled, turned out the lights and went home with more self-assurance than ever before. "We are hard pressed from all directions, but not crushed," Paul said.

"Perplexed, but not in despair"—the translation does not do justice to Paul's play on words: aporoumenoi all' ouk exaporoumenoi. The ex- adds perfective force to the repeat of the participle. Perhaps some of Paul's pun may be seen by translating the phrase "At a loss, but never lost," or A. T. Robertson's "lost, but not lost out."5

"Persecuted, but not abandoned." The first participle, also translated "harassed," is from the root diökö, "to hunt down." In 6:3-13, Paul catalogs some of the harassment he had endured: beatings, imprisonments, riots, libel and slander, and the rejection of 'friends.' But, though the world be against him (egkataleipö, "to abandon," used of a person's sense of being forsaken by others) Paul was confident of God's presence and sustaining love. His statement is reminiscent of the psalmist's assurance: "Though my father and mother forsake me, the Lord will receive me" (Ps. 27:10).

"Struck down, but not destroyed." Katäballö, "to throw down, strike down with force," was used of throwing an opponent down in wrestling or of striking someone down with a weapon. Perhaps Paul has in mind here his stoning at the hands of the Jews in Lystra in which they thought they had killed him.

A young salesman was demonstrating his "unbreakable combs" at a display table. Before a crowd of people he bent a comb with great force. When the comb snapped in two he was momentarily at a loss, but then quickly recovered by saying, "And this is what the unbreakable comb looks like on the inside!"

Our situation is just the opposite. We lay no claim to "unbreakableness." We are weak and fragile "earthen vessels," "jars of clay." And yet, when encountering crushing pressures, we are not crushed. Though perplexed, somehow we find our way. Though abandoned, we sense a faithful presence. Though knocked down, we are not knocked out. We survive to minister another day.

Dr. Cecil Sherman tells of an experience he had as a pastor—a conflict with an individual in the days of the civil rights movement. When a black woman expressed interest in joining the church, a member pointed out that a unanimous vote was required for the acceptance of members. In the days that followed, Dr. Sherman worked to get the unanimity requirement removed, though the battle was long and hard. When he succeeded, this hostile individual reacted by telling

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Dr. Sherman, "I'm going to bury you!" Several years later it was Cecil Sherman who read the scripture at this man's graveside.

How do we handle the strain of pastoral ministry? The pressure of conflict, the perplexing problems that far exceed our wisdom and expertise, the loneliness of being related to in the context of your role rather than as another fellow human being, the strain of balancing the roles of prophet and priest—these and the many other common pressures of ministry are enough to destroy anyone. And what do we say to hurting people—the wife whose husband of thirty years suddenly found her worthless and abandoned her, the couple whose newborn has a critical congenital heart defect, or the stigmatized individual who discovers that "church people" sometimes do not express grace as freely as they have received it? Often the only healing affirmation we have to lean on and offer is that within these fragile, fractured vessels has been placed a treasure that will somehow see us through. Our relationship to God in Christ brings with it a "super-power" that can give brittle, weak clay a strength and resiliency which can only be described as "miraculous." Under loads that should have destroyed us—battered and bruised, scarred by conflict and fractured by fatigue—through Christ we press on.

"We have this treasure in earthen vessels." Paul's powerful metaphor, composed in the thick of ministry, free of naive idealism, has had a transforming effect on my own life and ministry. First, it has set me free through increased self-acceptance and self-awareness. Knowing that weakness and imperfection are the norm for us all has allowed me to explore my own weaknesses and imperfections without embarrassment. Because I now know where many of the "cracks" are in this pot, I am able to be more effective in ministry.

Second, it has greatly increased my patience and effectiveness with others. The people to whom I minister will always be weak, fragile people—with broken hearts, irritating habits, neurotic tendencies. Helping them accept their flaws and imperfections has been a powerful first step in helping them compensate for them. There is no such thing as the perfect spouse, the perfect parent, the perfect friend or sibling or child. But using John the Baptist's words ("He must increase and I must decrease," Jn 3:30) as our guide, we can strive to share more of the treasure and less of the vessel.

Third, it has increased my appreciation for this wonderful institution called the church. Given its makeup, its resiliency and accomplishments can only be described as miraculous.

Fourth, it has helped me understand how Marshall McLuhan's statement, "the medium is the message," applies to ministry. The medium—a fragile, common vessel into which God has placed his treasure—is the message—into fragile, common vessels, the God of grace places his treasure.

Finally, it has inspired me to be a "better vessel." Knowing what a glorious treasure God has entrusted to me has motivated me to grow in personal commitment and professional skill. As one seminary professor said in his characteristic Scottish brogue, "Ye may be earthen vessels, but ye needn't be so earthen as ye are!"

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What an amazing irony! Into these common, clay vessels, God has placed the greatest treasure known to humanity: "the light of the knowledge of the glory of God in the face of Christ." How odd to think that a quest to uncover knowledge about God should focus attention, not on the quasars and pulsars and distant galaxies discovered through the Hubble Space Telescope, but on the discoveries of a fellow who insists on wearing earmuffs during worship.

A certain woman took a trip to the Holy Land. While she was there she purchased some of the fragrant spices sold there. After returning, she placed the small container on her mantle as a reminder of her trip. But one day, while dusting, she knocked off the fragile container which broke on the floor. Being in a hurry, she quickly scooped up all the pieces and wiped up the remaining liquid with her dust cloth, tossing the pieces and cloth into a large clay pot which sat nearby. As those spices leaked out of the broken container, they began to soak into and permeate that clay pot. As a result, even long after the broken pieces and dust cloth had been removed, no matter which room she placed the pot in, her whole house was filled with the fragrant smell of those spices.

"We have this treasure in earthen vessels"—but not in such a way that the treasure can be removed, for it has permeated our very being. And, to the extent that we admit the weakness and limitations of the vessel, we emphasize the miraculous power of the treasure. The indwelling Christ has transformed our lives.

1 Wayne E. Oates, Behind the Masks (Louisville: Westminster Press, 1987), 11. 2 Carlo M. Martini, In the Thick of His Ministry, trans. Dinah Livingstone (Collegeville,

MN: The Liturgical Press, 1990), 11. 3 John B. Polhill, "Reconciliation at Corinth," Review and Expositor 86 (Summer 1989):

346. 4 Ralph P. Martin, 2 Corinthians, The Word Biblical Commentary, no. 40 (Waco: Word

Books, 1986), 85. 5 A. T. Robertson, Word Pictures in the New Testament, vol. 4 (Nashville: Broadman Press,

1931), 226.

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