It's hard to believe that I first heard an exposition of this passage of scripture almost 40 years ago by Rev. Dr. John Stott, then the minister of All Souls Anglican Church, in London, England. I was at the 1965 Inter Varsity Christian Fellowship Missions Conference at Urbana University, in Illinois, Indiana. I was a mere youth then, a student graduating from high school, working with the young people in our vibrant church, and considering a vocation to teach English literature at a university level. My experience in attending Urbana contributed to my consideration of a calling of the Lord into the Christian ministry. What I still remember from John Stott's remarks was his frequent repetition of the biblical phrase: "we do not lose heart." In spite of the hassles, hurdles and hurts we may face in life, or in ministry, "we do not lose heart."
There have been many times since when I have had cause to consider the challenge and comfort of this amazingly grace-filled passage of scripture.
As I think about this passage again, after 33 years of ministry, I want to share something of the grief which I and many continue to feel over the recent and untimely deaths of two of our colleagues in ministry, one a graduate from Knox College, in Toronto, and the other, a graduate from the Vancouver School of Theology. My ministry intersected with their ministries, so I must tell you, I feel this grief personally. I want to lift up again, for a moment, the memory of Rev. Jang Woo Lee, who died of a sudden onset of lung cancer on November 26 in Winnipeg, at age 44; and, of Rev. Kris Davidson, who died along with his wife Sheryl and their nine year old daughter Laren, in a collision with a truck on an icy stretch just west of Salmon Arm on January 7.
Jang Woo was ordained in 1994 and served Korean Presbyterian congregations in Oshawa, Ont., Abbotsford, B.C., and for a few months in Winnipeg. He was a passionate, charismatic leader and church builder; he was a faithful pastor and a good friend. The Abbotsford Korean Presbyterian Church began its life in our building at Calvin Church from June 1998 to June 2002. Eventually, the congregation grew so well they needed to move to larger facilities elsewhere in the city.
Jang Woo taught me how to enjoy Korean food; I liked everything except Kim Chee. We went out for lunch at least once every month. He kindly called me his "elder brother". When he moved to Winnipeg in the summer of 2004 I missed him. When I heard of his cancer, only months later, I was shaken. I, along with many others, still grieve his loss. He is survived by his delightful, appropriately-named wife, Sunny, and his boys, John, 14 and Joshua, 11.
Kris Davidson was ordained in March, 2004 and served Haney Presbyterian for just nine months. He and his family were returning from Calgary after Christmas to a congregation where he fitted in beautifully. He was a gentle, godly, thoughtful, well-read preacher and pastor. He became a Christian in Southwood United Church in Calgary in 1993, and during his course of study at VST decided to throw his lot in with the PCC. His ministry was full of promise.
His death, along with his wife's and daughter's, shocked everyone in the congregation and communities in which they lived and worked, as well as all of us in the Presbytery of Westminster.
Again, we were severely shaken. They were survived by Katie, their two year old daughter, who herself was diagnosed with serious heart enlargement (possibly requiring a transplant) just weeks after Kris was inducted into his charge at Haney.
We who are left behind are "survivors" and we who are left behind are left with great sadness, many troubled questions, and some anger at the immense loss. We are "survivors" because we've been on beaches like the beaches of Sumatra or Thailand or Sri Lanka, and we have not been swept away. We are "survivors" because some of us, too, have been diagnosed with cancer; but we, unlike Jang Woo Lee, have had successful treatment and now the prognosis is good. We are survivors because some of us have travelled icy roads like the Davidsons and found ourselves slipping and sliding, even ending upside down in a ditch inside our car; but, fortunately, we were able to crawl out and get help.
In situations like Jang Woo's, Kris', Sheryl's and Lauren's — and others similar to theirs — I am struck, as the apostle Paul was struck, with our common humanity, our common human frailty. Not one of us is immune from accident, disease or sudden natural disaster. Not even believers — of various kinds — not even Christian ministers of the gospel. We are all cracked, clay pots; we are all prone to being "swept away".
So we are conscious, as Paul was, that "while we live we are always being given up to death" (2 Cor. 4:11a). And the common tendency, unless you like doing this kind of thing, is occasionally, no doubt, to be tempted to "lose heart" (2 Cor. 4:1b, 16a) because it's human to do so.
As Christians, we choose to live our lives in the context of the life and death and resurrection of Jesus. "While we live we are always being given up to death", but it is, "for Jesus' sake" (2 Cor. 4:10a). We live and even die, for a purpose — echoing, emulating, incarnating, serving Jesus; we do it "so that the life of Jesus may be made visible in our mortal flesh". (2 Cor. 4:10). As Christians, we choose to live our lives in the context of the cross — "the shadow of a mighty rock within a weary land" — and of the resurrection, because we hope and pray, and believe "that the one who raised the Lord Jesus will raise us also with Jesus, and will bring us with [others] into his presence" (2 Cor. 4:14).
If it were not for the words of Jesus, the life of Jesus, the suffering of Jesus, the death of Jesus, and the resurrection of Jesus, I don't know what I'd do.
We are "survivors" in that "this treasure in clay jars" is dependent upon the "extraordinary power [which] belongs to God [alone], and [which] does not come from us". (2 Cor. 4:7). After all, echoing the words of Fredrick Buechner, it is grace that we are alive. It is grace that we breathe and sleep and dream and wake up. Everyday we find ourselves alive is a good day; everyday is a day closer to God's glory. It is grace that we can cry or laugh. It is grace that we are loved, and it is grace that we may love others as well.
A crucial eccentricity of Christian faith is the assertion that people are saved by grace. There's nothing you have to do. There's nothing you have to do. There's nothing you have to do. The grace of God means something like: Here is your life. You might never have been, but you are because the party wouldn't have been complete without you. Here is the world. Beautiful and terrible things will happen. Don't be afraid. I am with you. Nothing can separate us. It's for you I created the universe.
Yes, grace is what it is all about, and "as it extends to more and more people", Paul concludes, it may well be that it will "increase thanksgiving, to the glory of God". (2 Cor. 4:15).
