His Broken Jars
2 Corinthians 4:1-7 (Kari)
Introduction:
Our entire married life has been one of ministry, for the last 42 years Rick and I have had the privilege to share our lives with others who have been through things in this life that have broken them, and in our lives, we’ve been broken as well. Ministry can be tough when you are going through something really really hard that breaks your heart…whether its physical pain, or even harder, emotional or spiritual pain that breaks your heart…whether it’s your third heart attack and surgery, or one of your family struggling in their marriage, or sending your son to war, or teenage pregnancy, or aging parents, or a dozen other things that crack open our heart
Kyle Idleman shared this powerful truth for believer…” God always has a purpose; He never wastes our pain.”
As Rick and I we’re getting ready to share our hearts with you this morning we came across this story…it captures the essence of what we want to accomplish with our remaining years in ministry
The cracked jar
Author: Paulo Coelho
An Indian legend tells of a man who carried water to his village every day, in two large jars tied to the ends of a wooden pole, which he balanced on his back.
One of the jars was older than the other, and had some small cracks; every time the man covered the distance to his house, half of the water was lost.
For two years, the man made the same journey. The younger jar was always very proud of its performance, safe in the knowledge that it was up to the mission it had been made for, while the other jar was mortified with shame at only fulfilling half of its allotted task, even though it knew that those cracks were the result of many years hard work.
It was so ashamed that one day, while the man got ready to fetch water from the well, it decided to speak to him:
– I want to apologize, but because of the many years of service, you are only able to deliver half of my load, and quench half of the thirst which awaits you at your home.
The man smiled, and said:
– When we return, observe carefully the path.
And so it did. And the jar noticed that, on its side, many flowers and plants grew.
– See how nature is more lovely on your side? – commented the man. – I always knew you were cracked, and decided to make use of this fact. I planted flowers and vegetables, and you have always watered them. I have picked many roses to decorate my house with, I have fed my children with lettuce, cabbage and onions. If you were not as you are, how could I have done that?
The Apostle Paul writes to the Church at Corinth and he explains in a nutshell why he believes God has allowed him to be a cracked Jar that leaks out healing grace. He clearly let’s us know it’s not a waterferd crystal vase holding a priceless treasure…. it’s a broken and cracked clay pot
In fact, Rick wanted to call this ministry “Crack Pots” …but I straightened him out lol
It’s why Paul started out his letter to this church with these words:
2 Corinthians 1:3-5 3 Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of compassion and the God of all comfort, 4 who comforts us in all our troubles, so that we can comfort those in any trouble with the comfort we ourselves receive from God. 5 For just as we share abundantly in the sufferings of Christ, so also our comfort abounds through Christ.
God’s plan for our brokenness is that we may comfort others who are next to us on this path called life
(My parents we’re really broken people when I was growing up…my mother was sexually and emotionally abused by her biological father from the time she was 5 years old until she was 16…it’s hard for me to imagine what kind of brokenness that does to your soul. The one who is suppose to love and protect you becomes the greatest source of hurt in your life…my father was raised by a single mother who many times saw him as an inconvenience to her lifestyle. She would go out and lock him in the basement for days at a time…He would enlist in the Air force as soon as he was old enough and escape this world. My Mom was 16…my dad was 19….I was born a year after they were married and my brother was born 4 years later..and with this foundation they did the best they could to provide, protect and love us as we grew up…but God wasn’t a part of our family…lots of unspoken secretes, lot’s a unhealthy learned survival methods, lots of cracks and brokenness…And then when I was about 6 or 7 a woman invited me to church. She even began to pick me up.and over a period of time my parents started to come to church as well…This amazing woman began to leak out grace onto the broken lives of my family and God began to reveal His purpose and plan. God choose this path for me and my family and He “never ever wastes our pain.”
(Rick)
We don’t get to choose our family, or our situation growing up…when I think of my childhood the first verse of scripture that comes to mind is when Jesus says, “To whom much is given much will be required.” Luke 12:48
My Father was born dirt poor in Asheville NC...they moved to WV so they could grow food on a small piece of land. At 7 or 8 my dad worked on a chicken farm earning a nickel a day. A buffalo Indian head nickel. He carried them around till his dying day…He would give them away to people he loved saying, “I carry this to remember who I am and where I came from. At 18 he enlisted in the army during WW2. At 19, during the battle of the bulge in the black forest he stepped on a landmine blowing off his left leg and severely injuring his right. His best friend Frank Carlyle ran into the minefield to carry him out. After they shipped him home to an amputee hospital in Atlanta where he met my mom. I’m the baby of three…and I can’t remember a time in my childhood where I didn’t feel love, protected, and supported. Church and God were always a part of our family, I didn’t choose this…I was given this. “And to whom much is given…much is required!!!!”
When I was 10 years old I had a science experiment for my 5th grade class..I had a chemistry set that allowed you to heat up different ingredients with an alcohol lamp, I spilled the alcohol and I caught fire,,,my Dad heard my screams and put the fire out with his own hands and arms, burning himself terribly,,,especially his hand…I was burned over 50% of my body with 3rd degree burn, The doctor’s told my parents I probably wouldn’t survive, I did, after 3 months in St. Joseph hospital, salt water baths, and skin graft surgery, I went home. I looked like a scared, disfigured little old man…I didn’t understand why God would allow this to happen to me…I was broken…always being different, stared at, mocked…at 11 it cracked my soul
I didn’t understand God’s plan I prayed constantly for God to heal and remove my scars. And although they’ve faded, 53 years later they are still here. It has taken a long time to realize His purpose in my pain. To realize scars change us…they can make us bitter or better depending on what we do with them. I think back now after 45 years of ministry and remember Mr. Bryant coming to see me at the hospital. I went to school and church with the Bryant's. Mr. Bryant came to visit me in the hospital. I had gotten gun shy of church people coming by…many of them would say, “we know how you feel, or we know what you’re going through and I would think “that’s a lie. You’ve got no idea!” But Mr. Bryant had been horribly burned at Pearl harbor in an oil tank explosion…3rd degree burns over most of his body (they’d faded but were still visible 30 years later). He brought a letter he had written to his fiancé Delores, telling her to find someone else. He was too scared…she didn’t and I went to church and school with their 4 sons. He said, “Ricky, hold onto this letter for me for a while. I made it. If I made…you can…I know how you feel…I know what you’re going through and for the very first time I believed someone…and he prayed with me
I don’t know all of the Apostle Paul’s scars…beatings, shipwrecks, stoning, snakebites, thorns in the flesh that God allowed him to keep, with the promise, “my strength is made perfect in your weakness…my grace is sufficient.” (2 Cor. 12)
But I know this…He earned the right to say “Me too” like Mr. Bryant, and he walked along the path of people’s lives to help them grow to be beautiful in Christ. Kari and I believe that is what God has called us to do with the priceless treasure of the gospel we hold in these broken Jars. In fact, we believe it’s what God has called ALL His people to do…because we’re all broken
(Kari)
My husband wrote this poem…it’s called “SCARS” I’d like to share it with you:
Scars
If you look at my body and my face
You'll see evidences of pain
Each represent God's amazing grace
Not one of them was in vain
Some are from traumas in life
some are ragged and rough
some gently made with a surgeon's knife
God's grace was always sufficient enough
Scars can be visible evidences of His love
or they can become bitter marks of doubt
One choice sets us free from above
One choice locks His grace out
God Has a plan for you and for me
And it will always require some scars
some are hidden and some you can see
They are always designed to open prison bars
When our greatest and worst pain
becomes our testimony of God's grace
The world can witness what we gain
and clearly see Jesus' hands and face
My husband and I were just teenagers when we met at his sister and brother in law’s church in Stuart Florida. We were in a Sunday school class talking about Abraham and lot..after church they tried to introduce us but I was too embarrassed and I ran across the parking lot waving to them. I remember going out for pizza with the youth group and a girl asked me…” Kari, how are you getting home. And Rick said…I’ll take you.” Our love story started with Rick as my Uber driver…two years later I became his wife. We called ourselves “The King’s Couple.” We were very much in love, but even then, it was about living for Him. It still is!!!!
We’ve shared ministry and life together for 42 years. 4 children 6 grandchildren and counting. Rick’s had 15 major surgeries, 3 heart attacks and added to his scar collection. We been through teen age pregnancies with our daughters, children going through divorces, we’ve sent our son to war, and we’ve seen them almost die after those events as they self-medicated. And we’ve watch God’s grace leak out of loving broken jars that poured out healing to us. Yes, there were others who poured out judgment, but God continues to flex His muscles in our weakness and brokenness
And we’ve watched our children and grandchildren not only survive, but come to realize God’s goodness even when things and people aren’t so good. Our deepest and most intimate friends are those who have shared the journey with us. I feel like Paul felt towards the Philippians when he wrote to them saying:
3 I thank my God every time I remember you. 4 In all my prayers for all of you, I always pray with joy 5 because of your partnership in the gospel from the first day until now, 6 being confident of this, that he who began a good work in you will carry it on to completion until the day of Christ Jesus. (Phil 1:3-6)
(Rick)
With only a half hour it’s impossible for us to share fully the kindness and compassion God has revealed to us through the valleys and the Mountaintops…We have learned that life can sometimes be a tough school…in the school of life you get the test first and the lesson afterwards.” And many times it requires “waiting on the Lord so your strength can be restored”
There have been many many times in our life that Kari and I didn’t know what God was doing, or was going to do. Would Ricky survive after his divorce? Would we get the call that Tyler ad been killed or wounded and after he came home, we expected the call that he had overdosed and died. When both our teenage daughters told us they were pregnant in 2007, our youngest being 15 I remember for the only time in my life laying on the floor with grief so encompassing all I could do is wail…we had dreams for our children, and it seemed the “white picket fence, house and family” were shattered. I remember offering to resign from my position as lead minister. Kari and I had always tried to love our kids, teach them about Jesus and surround them with church, youth group, vbs, and camp…we disciplined, supported and encouraged….but we were broken…we could not see how God could bring joy from brokenness…but he did…16 years later my son is married to our beautiful daughter in law Becca, Tyler has a beautiful family and He is a worship minister, Cyndi and Karissa have seen the loving restoration through older single Mom’s who poured out grace into their lives…their history has become HIS STORY
Let me end with this story…I had a leader at another church named Dan…. during this year he often would make remarks about “things like this don’t happen in godly home.” He judged Kari and I Hard, his wife as well.” I remember hurting so bad it was hard to get up in the morning. Kari and I knew the truth about how we’d loved and cared for our children and the foundation we’d tried to build in their lives. We were a long way from perfect but our love for each other, Jesus and our family was real. It’s hard to grieve when you are trying to prove you didn’t deserve it. A little like Lot to his three friends and wife. I have to tell you there was no other time in my life I leaned upon Jesus as much and no other time He proved His power in my weakness. I always loved Romans chapter 8, especially verse 28…
”And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who[a] have been called according to his purpose.”
I just couldn’t see that far down the path…I couldn’t see the flowers and fruit around the bend…but God could…a few years later, after God used many of these circumstances for my children, grandchildren, and others for help and healing…Dan called me out of the blue and asked to have dinner…we weren’t close but I agreed. As soon as I sat down he started crying…..hard tears…and he said, “I was arrogant, proud and legalistic…I said “this doesn’t happen in godly homes with a critical heart.” “I need to tell you…my youngest daughter is pregnant and I’m broken.” We prayed and talked about the brokenness and pain, but I told Dan….” I wouldn’t trade the intimacy I have with Jesus through that for a million dollars, Dan, trust Him Trust Jesus my brother…He pours His grace out of broken jars!!!”
I started ministry sharing about how Jesus touched my life and changed my worth….I learned and memorized a poem called, The Touch of the Master’s Hand by Myra Brooks Welch…It’s appropriate this morning that Kari and I end with it:
The Touch of the Masters Hand
Twas battered and scarred, and the auctioneer
thought it scarcely worth his while to waste much time on the old violin,
but held it up with a smile; "What am I bidden, good folks," he cried,
"Who'll start the bidding for me?" "A dollar, a dollar"; then two!" "Only
two? Two dollars, and who'll make it three? Three dollars, once; three
dollars twice; going for three.." But no, from the room, far back, a
gray-haired man came forward and picked up the bow; Then, wiping the dust
from the old violin, and tightening the loose strings, he played a melody
pure and sweet as caroling angel sings.
The music ceased, and the auctioneer, with a voice that was quiet and low,
said; "What am I bid for the old violin?" And he held it up with the bow.
A thousand dollars, and who'll make it two? Two thousand! And who'll make
it three? Three thousand, once, three thousand, twice, and going and
gone," said he. The people cheered, but some of them cried, "We do not
quite understand what changed its worth." Swift came the reply: "The touch
of a master's hand."
And many a man with life out of tune, and battered and scarred with sin,
Is auctioned cheap to the thoughtless crowd, much like the old violin, A
"mess of pottage," a glass of wine; a game - and he travels on. "He is
going" once, and "going twice, He's going and almost gone." But the Master
comes, and the foolish crowd never can quite understand the worth of a soul
and the change that's wrought by the touch of the Master's hand.
Myra 'Brooks' Welch
