Proper 4B 2nd Reading

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2 Corinthians 4:5-12

“Did you read my text from earlier,” asked my wife, who had busied herself over the last hour researching diets.

I shifted my weight on the couch and cleared my throat hoping for a passable excuse to appear in a blinding moment of clarity. Nothing came to me, so I contributed this brilliant line without breaking my gaze with the TV: “Umm, I haven’t gotten to that yet.”

“Oh, we are going vegan,” she said.

“Excuse me?”

“We start tomorrow.”

Then she left.

To be clear, I have now made sweeping changes to my texting patterns.

In the following weeks, we have also made sweeping changes to our bodies. Our plant-based diet adds fuel through nutrient-packed foods, restoring our bodies to their natural shape. Even during this sudden change, I find myself wondering if I’ll ever be happy with my body. Can any good thing come from these old flesh and bones? Will I always be enslaved to the constant tug and pull to be transformed in the image of a culturally-pleasing body?

I am not alone in the pursuit of the good in my personal body. A plethora of issues around body image face our time. We do everything we can to find purpose, meaning, and beauty in our flesh. In our fixation of good and beautiful flesh, we nearly destroy our bodies. We punish them, stretch them, scar them, increase them, shrink them, enhance them, hide them, cut them, implode them, and abuse them. We gorge them, starve them, conceal them, burn them, pierce them, and tattoo them. We do a lot to our bodies and all for the name of good. For discovering a life of fulfillment and happiness. To mark our corner of time with a story of flesh that is acceptable. Our flesh has become the most important canvas of our culture. We wear upon them and transform them into the image of what we think good looks like.

But…what does good look like?

Paul reframes the good of our image in a familiar visual: a clay jar. He invites listeners to look around, like a manager who unlocks the doors to the community maker space. The passage prompts us to look past his shoulder and toward the potter. To redefine “good” through the handiwork of the artist.

There is earth in his palms and dust in his beard. The maker’s appearance is lit by the fire; you can see glory in his face. A kind of glory that arises from first origins. A genesis glory generating from unfailing love and patient purpose. His eyes are starry, those of a honeymooner seeing promise in their newfound treasure. The potter has discovered the good of the clay. The mundane clay rests as raw potential in the hands of the master artisan. A perfect container for his treasure, housed in the transformation of mundane material by the careful presence of a dust-caked maker. Apart from the vision of the artist, the clay would be functionless. However, the clay jar gains its treasure by carrying the essence and character of the potter in each vessel created. Handmade in the image of the creator.

Paul has learned something about image, something about the appearance of bodies. In his missionary adventures, Paul succumbed to a tremendous amount of bodily suffering, giving his flesh to the image of being beaten, bruised, and persecuted. Is there any good in this outcome? Can something holy be proclaimed during such destruction?

Paul knows these old bodies were not self-made. The powerful treasure in which he proclaims is not in his flesh, but in his image. His body houses the handiwork of the Great Artisan. What Paul proclaims is the nature of God seen in the way he lives. He lives just like the one who gave him function and order. Paul knows that a life lived in the image of light and life is not something that can be conjured up like some dietary fad. He cannot contort his body to be more majestic, as if he does not benefit from the same hot fires of the kiln as does clay. There is no power in being self-made. The power comes from the nature of the Potter, who became human and gave his life for the life of all.

In Jesus’ defeat of death through the endurance of suffering, Paul’s body no longer carries the threat of finality. We do not have to kill ourselves trying to live. No, we can go on proclaiming the hope of resurrection with a type of resilience afforded by the life and ministry of Jesus. Our bodies carry around the brand marks of the Gospel, the very nature of life. That is, they carry the image of a loving Father who will stop at nothing to make His love and nature known. We are now the products of His artwork, and we carry on bearing witness through His power, the One who made us, in whom there is only life.

As the Potter takes his seat to mold earth into something with function, He speaks. Life begins to form, and it is good. The very image of our bodies is birthed from this goodness. Our likeness coming from the One who first spoke into nothing, assigning function and birthing life. These bodies bear witness to that first voice and bear the image of the Grand Artist who transforms mundane material into extraordinary witnesses of His nature and love. In God’s image, we may boldly proclaim victory in and through all circumstances. The revelation of God in Jesus through our bodies brings life, abundant life. God-honoring, God-prospering, God-fulfilling life. Where is the good in our bodies? The good is in the Craftsman, the image of whom we bear. Our bodies carry the ultimate story of life. The life of the Maker. The meaning of good.

Jake Edwards

Pastor, New Beginnings Church of the Nazarene