Mandy loves to cook for people. She understands that that support and encouragement flow from her kitchen, by the vehicle of food, into people’s bellies. Whenever someone in our church gives birth, whenever a friend is in a busy time, she loves to bring meals.
She has special containers for these provisions. At the bottom of our pantry, in a particular drawer, the take-a-meal-containers find their abode.
They are old takeout containers, saved for this purpose. She uses these particular ones because, “ I don’t want them to worry about getting them back to me. They can enjoy it and forget about it.” You know, the forget-about-it dishes.
You must understand that their dispensability is a key feature of their effectiveness. They only have one, simple job: be the means to get the food to the person. We are talking simple point A, to point B, stuff. If the containers serve in this way, they have done their noble duty. Nothing more is necessary. They bear no pressure of being anything other than what they are: a vessel of transport. They can be just that.
Turns out, this is how you should think about your pastor. And if you are a pastor, especially a young one, this is a liberating way to think of yourself, too.
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“…we have this treasure in jars of clay, to show that the surpassing power belongs to God and not to us.”
- 2 Corinthians 4:7
In 2 Corinthians 4:7, Paul writes about his pastoral ministry. He tells the church at Corinth that, “…we have this treasure in jars of clay, to show that the surpassing power belongs to God and not to us.”
In the world of the New Testament, these “jars of clay” were common household food containers. They were for plain use. They would often chip or break, and they could be replaced easily. They were the ancient world’s takeout containers. Plain and simple.
Paul wanted the Corinthians to think of his ministry in these terms. He knew that he wasn’t particularly impressive or clever. Rather, he was fragile and ordinary. Further, the apostle understood this has a holy task: to be a common vessel to carry the hope of Jesus to the hearts and souls of the people in the Greco-Roman world.
In this text, Paul is rejoicing in his dispensability—the Lord could have chosen anybody for this work. He knew he didn’t have to be amazing. Instead, he was free to be a common container. He was safe in this work, even in fragility and brokenness (as he goes on to say in 2 Corinthians 4). Paul understood that the Lord ordained to carry the gospel forward in this manner and that this method would demonstrate the power of God in a unique way. (Lest folks be tempted to be impressed with Paul).
You get the sense that he learned to glory in God’s gospel delivery strategy and his unassuming role as a means to God’s great ends.
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If you are not a pastor, this, of course, does not mean that your pastor should be tossed out, forgotten about, purposely trashed, under-appreciated, or not shown honor.
It does mean, however, that your hope should not be in your pastor, but instead in Jesus, the one your pastor proclaims and presents to you. It implies that your expectations should be realistic because your pastor is a plain old vessel called to deliver nourishing things for your soul.
If you are a pastor, especially if you are a young pastor like me, there will come a day when you feel radically freed by this vision of pastoral work.
You are invited to be ordinary. If your gifts are meager, that is okay. (Maybe even better?). Your approach to your work can be non-flashy. Truly, it can, and it should be. Things do not have to be so dramatically sensational.
You can work hard, diligently, faithfully, week after week. You are free to pursue things with passion and clarity and excellence precisely because “the surpassing power belongs to God and not [you.]”
Weights fell off of me when I first realized that I can be God’s free man, liberated from the pressure to be spectacular. They fall off afresh when I realize this again and again. Get this: I can simply deliver the foods as best I can—prepared in the kitchen of word, table, prayer—to the people that I love, and that love me back, in the common container that is Joel Busby.
Grace Fellowship can eat heartily and drink deeply of the true food and true drink that is Jesus. These souls can savor Christ.
They can love and appreciate me, but kinda forget me. In a good way, you know?