Containers of Clay
By Alice Scott-Ferguson

The early email was waiting when I signed on. My correspondent wrote that she and her husband had read from Paul’s second letter to the Corinthians at bedtime and then fallen softly asleep. “But we have this treasure in earthen vessels, that the excellency of the power may be of God and not of us” (4:7). The ravages of both the disease and the chemotherapy that threatened the integrity of her husband’s earthly vessel could not hinder sound sleep for, unlike a custodian who must guard an earthly treasure entrusted to his care, this indwelling heavenly wealth is committed to the forever care of the frail vessel in which it resides. The treasure guards us.

Having many sick and feeble friends around me at the moment has highlighted the amazing and awesome plan that the God of the entire universe, the Life of the resurrected Christ, should take up residence in a human form. The Message translation of this same scripture puts it in everyday language that we cannot fail to understand. “We carry this precious Message around in the unadorned clay pots of our ordinary lives. That is to prevent anyone from confusing God’s incomparable power with us. As it is, there’s not much chance of that.” Indeed, whether sick or strong, there is little dispute that we are flawed, feeble and cracked containers of the treasure—Christ in us the hope of glory.

As the Father fused his Triune life with the flesh of mankind first in Jesus of Nazareth, so he has created a new species of being, the new creation race—mankind made from the dust of the earth united with the God-life made from the materials of heaven. What a wonder! And have you ever wondered about the variety of vessels—each one of us as unique as every snowflake that falls from the sky—each one reflecting Christ in and through our uniquely endowed personality?
In the vast array of vessels, there are few things as touching and beautiful than to see Christ come to dwell by faith in the heart of a tender child. One of my sons was just four years old when he eagerly hid the treasure in his heart. One of my grandsons also grasped Him at a very tender age and the power of that choice flows effortlessly out of his young life. I wonder; is Christ ever happier than when His home is in the heart of a child? He must, like us, celebrate the innocence that is so implicit; the confidence that Jesus can do anything and the expectancy that prompts an inquiry from my little grandson such as, “Doesn’t everybody love Him?”

Yet the vessel—though beautiful, its colors so vibrant at that stage—is so vulnerable, so fragile and so readily damaged. Cruel situations can do so much to tarnish the trust of a little one. Then how we mourn the passing of those innocent, faith-filled days. Still, the treasure is intact and Christ continues to live at the same address though time takes it toll on the original dwelling place.
Through the tiny years to the tempestuous teens when innocence has fled, when the world has often lured and laid waste their child-like faith; when tattoos and body piercing decorate the container, still He stays assuming no censorious or critical posture. To the pigpen He is willing to go, waiting and working within—wooed by the Holy Spirit--to bring the prodigal back home to the Father.
The vessels of mid-life vintage who have come to grips with the cracks, the chips and the faded colors of their clay are transparent, vulnerable and are altogether more pleasant to be around. The pot at this stage becomes but part of a still life painted by the Master. Our eyes are now drawn to the fruit—full, life like and luscious—while the pot is only incidental to the texture of the picture. These are the able ministers of the New Covenant who, though deteriorating outwardly, are flourishing in their inner being.

However, there are other kinds of containers to be found at this stage of vesseldom; those who have patched up the dents of life with the defiant, deficient fig leaves of pride, and those who have viewed the bumps and bruises of life to be but obstacles in the path of their own designing; who have forgotten, or are ignorant of, their calling, or are bitter and resentful of both people and a God whom they consider have failed them. What amazes me is that Christ still stays in residence while such among us go our own unbroken way. He shows such restraint living an unexpressed life in an angry pot.

But, just as the container in which it is presented does not diminish the value of a diamond, neither is the eternal, priceless treasure that lives in our frailty diminished because of the packaging. (In many cases, He lives unseen and unheard for years and years due to our false living—a testimony to the Father’s respect of our sovereign selfhood). His unconditional love can never be disputed!
In the treasure of a little book called, The Mystery of the Gospel, published by Union Life Ministries, we read a great summation of this. “It is important to see that we are just clay pots, but we contain a priceless treasure. We recognize that without the treasure we are ‘nothing.’ It is the treasure in the vessel that’s everything. And we know it always remains that way. We don’t become something better. (Emphasis mine), We are just the vessel through which He pours out Himself. He remains the treasure, and we remain the vessel.”

That is until the day that this mortality puts on immortality. A precious friend of mine is about to do just that. Even in her wasted and pain-wracked body, the life of Christ shines through as never before. Again, we turn to The Message and its rendition of the glorious resurrection truths as found in 1 Corinthians chapter 15. “The dead body that we bury in the ground and the resurrection body that comes from it will be dramatically different. … The corpse that’s planted is no beauty, but when it’s raised, it’s glorious. Put in the ground weak, it comes up powerful. The seed sown is natural; the seed grown is super-natural—same seed, same body, but what a difference from when it goes down in physical mortality to when it is raised up in spiritual immortality.”

When an imperishable container replaces our earthen pot, we will then know as we have always been known from before the foundation of the earth—God’s chosen vessel to carry the Life of His Son. In the meantime, we grow increasingly aware that the power to guard us in our comings and goings, in sickness and in health, in youth and in age, belongs to God alone. Therefore, with confidence we can say, Be still frail pot; sleep soundly jar of clay.