Broadway Christian Church · Columbia, Missouri

Morning Worship · March 29, 2009

Fifth Sunday in Lent

Prayer of the Day

Gracious and loving God, as we continue our Lenten journey, we pray that you will renew our hearts, our minds, and our souls. Help us respond to your voice and remind us that we are called to serve you. Through Christ, we pray together, Amen.

Scripture

Jeremiah 18:1-6

The word that came to Jeremiah from the Lord: “Come, go down to the potter’s house, and there I will let you hear my words.” So I went down to the potter’s house, and there he was working at his wheel. The vessel he was making of clay was spoiled in the potter’s hand, and he reworked it into another vessel, as seemed good to him.

Then the word of the Lord came to me: “Can I not do with you, O house of Israel, just as this potter has done? Just like the clay in the potter’s hand, so are you in my hand, O house of Israel.”

Message

Minding and Mending

Jacob Thorne

I want to begin this morning by sharing with you a story that is taken from Henri Nouwen. After nearly two decades of teaching at the Universities of Notre Dame, Yale, and Harvard, Henri left the academic scene to share his life with mentally-handicapped individuals at L’Arche Community of Daybreak, in Toronto, Canada. Listen to what he says about the community where he chose to live.

There was one of my friends there who is quite handicapped but a wonderful, wonderful lady. She said to me, “Henri, can you bless me?”

I remember walking up to her and giving her a little cross on the forehead. She said, “Henri, it doesn’t work. No. That’s not what I mean.”

I was embarrassed, and I said, “I gave you a blessing.”

She said, “No. I want to be blessed.”

I kept thinking, what does she mean? 

We had a little service, and all these people were sitting there. After the service, I said, “Janet wants a blessing.” 

I had an alb on, and a long robe with long sleeves. Janet walked up to me and said, “I want to be blessed.” She put her head against my chest, and I spontaneously put my arms around her, held her, and looked right into her eyes and said, “Blessed are you, Janet. You know how much we love you. You know how important you are. You know what a good woman you are.”

She looked at me and said, “Yes. Yes. I know.”

She went back to her place, and immediately other people said, “I want that kind of blessing, too.”

The people kept walking up to me, and suddenly I found myself embracing people. I remember that after that, one of the people in our community, who assists the handicapped – a strong guy, a big guy, a football player – said, “Henri, can I have a blessing, too?”

I remember our standing there in front of each other, and I said, “John.” I put my hand on his shoulder. “You are blessed. You are a good person. God loves you. We love you. You are important.”

Some of you may have heard this story before, but this morning, I want us to consider the story as if we were hearing it for the first time, from a fresh perspective. When we listen to Henri tell us how he embraced others and said those special words that we all need to hear, “You are a good person; God loves you; you are important,” we feel an instant connection to Henri. In fact, many of us, myself included, might instantly think, “I can do that for others. I can reach out to others. I can tell others that they are loved, that they are blessed, that God loves them.” 

But what is hard for me to do, and maybe it is hard for you as well is to be the person who asks for the blessing. In today’s world, we so want to be in control of our own destiny and our own destination. We have been taught from a very young age to take control of our lives and to succeed. Ideals such as these encourage us not to admit that we are broken.

As Henri Nouwen once stated, “We need to dare to embrace our brokenness.” 

We all, at one time or another, have experienced broken lives, broken relationships, and broken dreams. Sometimes we would just rather ignore our brokenness. It would be easier to pretend that nothing bad ever happened. But if we befriend our brokenness, if we really look at our lives, and say, “Yes, I am hurting… Yes, I am wounded… Yes, it is painful… then we begin to live life more fully.

For the past several weeks, we have been on our Lenten journey. Lent is the 40 days, not including Sundays, that lead up to Easter. Lent is a time for self-reflection, self-discipline, and self-renewal. Perhaps now, more than any other time of the year, we are called to admit that we are broken, that we are not perfect, and that we yearn to be blessed and be made whole by God.

But how do we do this? How do we silence the inner voice that tells us not to admit our weakness? How do we admit that we are broken and need to be made whole?

Our text this morning, taken from the prophet Jeremiah, helps answer some of these questions.

During the time of Jeremiah, the Israelites had turned to a life of sin and disobedience with no regard for God. They were full of lies, and deceit, and evil doings. They had forgotten all the grace, love, and freedom that God had granted them. So Jeremiah was called by God to help the Israelites get back on track and renew their relationship with God. In order to do this, God sends Jeremiah to the potter’s house.

In the ancient world, it would have been fairly common to be a potter. We know for certain that pottery was used for such items as lamps, pitchers, buttons, toys, and games. Numerous clay vessels have been discovered that are thousands of years old. In a more recent time, the Dead Sea Scrolls were found in clay jars that have been buried in the ground for more than 2,000 years.

Even though Jeremiah lived some time around 600 B.C.E., the process for making pottery has not changed much. For the past several weeks during the season of Lent, we have had Janie McArthur join us in the narthex while she has been making pots. Maybe you saw her this morning. If you watched Janie, the process is really quite interesting.

Now, I have to claim, up front, that I know very little about making pottery. I have only tried it once. But, I think the process goes something like this, even as it did during the time of Jeremiah. The potter begins with a chunk of clay. Then you take the clay and mold it, knead it, and push out the air bubbles. The goal is to make the clay more elastic. Next you roll the clay into a cone shape. You make the bottom flat. Then you throw the clay on the wheel. Once the clay is on the wheel, you want to have it centered. Centering the clay is the most important part. 

Maybe you have tried this before. When I tried to make a pot, I was able to get the clay on the wheel, but I was never able to get the clay to stay on the wheel. But, when this is done by an experienced potter, like Janie, the entire process is beautiful to watch. She makes it look so easy. She turns the wheel, and she moves the clay up and down to create the perfect pot.

When Jeremiah went to the potter’s house, he watched the potter as he made his pots. It’s easy and powerful to picture this scene. I imagine Jeremiah standing in the doorway watching what is taking place. A piece of pottery, right before his eyes, is being transformed. A piece of raw clay becomes a work of art with just the wheel, water, and skill of the potter. 

Then the word of the Lord comes to Jeremiah. We’ve all heard God speak to us in mysterious ways. Sometimes all we can do is just listen. This is what God said to Jeremiah: “Can I not do with you, O house of Israel, just as this potter has done? Just like the clay in the potter’s hand, so are you in my hand.”

We truly are in the palm of God. Like the potter with the clay, we, too, try to center ourselves in order that we may be molded and mended by God. One of the fascinating aspects of clay is that as long as the clay is wet, the potter is able to constantly shape and reshape the clay. When we are centered, we feel close to God. Sometimes we are knocked off balance, and we lose our awareness of God. But we are still remolded and reshaped.

Now, I have brought a pot with me this morning. Once the clay is fired, the pot becomes brittle and hard. [Editor’s note: Jacob is now holding a clay pot and hitting it with his fingers, demonstrating it hardness.] You can’t shape it. If you take it and center it over a cinder block and drop it [Jacob drops the pot and it breaks into many pieces] it shatters (like it is supposed to).

But we are not called to be those hard pieces of pottery that have been fired in the clay oven. We are called to be pieces of clay that are constantly shaped and reshaped by God. Our lives aren’t perfect. We are all flawed. But if we harden our hearts to God, if we become brittle, if we are not able to be shaped, if we refuse to admit our brokenness, then we risk losing the possibility of transformation.

Lent is a time to entrust your hands into the Spirit of the Living God. We have the choice to become centered on God, or centered on our own paths of sin and destruction. 

Do you remember the words of Jesus on that last night when he met with his disciples? We say the words every Sunday: “This is my body that is broken for you.”

Even Jesus, our Lord and Savior, was broken. But in our brokenness, we can reach out to serve others. Our brokenness isn’t something to be ashamed of, but rather it is a gift of recognition. Even when we are broken, we can still give ourselves to others.

Perhaps the question for us to consider this morning is this: Are you living your life the way God intended for you to live? Are you living your life to its greatest potential? Do you find yourself rooted in prayer, and the spiritual disciplines of Scripture, discernment, mission, and community? Or do you find yourself living in the evils of this world – the desire to succeed, to make money, to define yourself by your wealth, or your career, or that house you own?

In Paul’ letter to the Ephesians, he says, “For we are what God has made us.”

When you find that you are no longer centered, which happens to each of us, take the time to reorient yourself. Take the time to figure out how you need to be reshaped.

I want to share with you an e-mail that I received from my friend Scott several months ago. Scott is a member of the Bethany Fellows. He serves at Heart of the Rockies Christian Church in Ft. Collins, Colorado. Scott was here two weeks ago to observe how we do Life Focus Seminars. For the past several months, though, Scott has been on sabbatical. As part of his sabbatical experience, Scott spent three days in the wilderness praying, fasting, and meditating. Listen to what he says in an e-mail before he left for his trip.

On Friday morning, I will get an opportunity to finish my quest. I will fast and be in solitude in the redwoods of northern California. I am invited to take only the most essential items with me. The burden of time will be great without the weight of stuff bearing down on me.

This is a rite of passage, and I go to mark my continued journey into adulthood, specifically my journey of fatherhood. I will spend time sleeping, praying, reading, writing, and watching for how the earth moves, the redwoods speak, and the creatures live. I have found, in the past, that this time can be incredibly freeing, allowing me to be fully Scott, without judgment except from the self and voices that I bring with me. I hope to learn from the hawk, the redwoods, all the creatures in the ways they are living into their true calm. Redwoods yearn to be fully redwoods. Rock to be rock. Hawk to be hawk. And Scott to be Scott.

I would ask specifically for you to hold me in prayer during my time-out. Beyond marking my fatherhood, I seek healing and growth in the ways that I feel and make peace with my anger. I yearn for more awareness in the ways that I step toward deeper relationships instead of isolation. I go with a sense of expectancy for the unknown gifts from God as well. 

Please hold Becca, Olivia, and Nicholas (that’s his family) in your thoughts and prayers while I am away. I am grateful for each of you and know you have been spending a bunch of your prayer capital on us lately. The investment in our lives is much appreciated. We are told that this time, while spent in solitude, is truly meant for the enrichment of our family, our friends, our community, and our world. And that the gifts received in the wilderness will be shared for various purposes throughout the world.

One of the reasons I like this e-mail so much is because Scott is an incredibly authentic and honest individual. Scott headed into the wilderness searching for the unknown gifts of God. For three days, Scott was intentional about the ways in which he sought to center himself in his relationship with God. Scott had a conversation with what some people would call “the interior of the heart.” 

In his e-mail, Scott says that, with no distractions, he would face the burden of time and the judgment of no one except for himself and the voices that he carries with him. 

To be alone in silence is scary. Sometimes, I think many of us are constantly busy, because we simply don’t want to slow down to face reality.

Eugene Peterson once said that “Busy-ness is laziness.” He suggests that being busy is easy. If we are constantly busy, we don’t have to look deep into our lives and our souls. If we are constantly busy, we are not able to recognize the presence of God standing right before us. If we are constantly busy, we refuse to heal and grow, to mind and mend, to renew and transform. But when you take the time to finally slow down and connect with God, this is what you will discover. God loves you exactly the way that you are. You are accepted just as you are. 

Now, we are not all called to go into the wilderness and fast for three days. But we are called, each and every one of us, to take the time to listen to God. 

We have just two weeks of Lent left. Soon we will celebrate Easter Sunday. But what would happen if, during these next two weeks, you decided to be intentional about spending time with God? Maybe you could give up e-mailing in the evenings. Maybe you could give up television, even during the NCAA tournament. Maybe you could give up your morning coffee at Starbucks. Whatever you decide to give up, the choice is totally up to you. But the idea is not just to give something up. The idea is to give something up and change at the same time. Instead of e-mailing, watching television, or drinking your morning cup of coffee, spend that time in prayer and meditation. Take time to really, really slow down. Take time to reassess your life and decide whether or not you are centered in your relationship to God. 

The great gift of faith is that we are constantly shaped and reshaped by God. During this season of Lent, may you claim that you are chosen by God. During this season of Lent, may you know that your life rests in the palm of God.   And during this season of Lent, may you know that you will always be loved by God.

Through Christ, we all say together… “Amen.”

Benediction

Creator of all, thank you for the unique way you have sculpted us. Thank you for our differences and our imperfections. Help us to realize that we are your creation, made to be filled and brimming over with love. Strengthen us in our brokenness, so that even with cracks, we are useful and loved. Take us, mold us, use us, and fill us. Amen.