Sermon preached for the installation of Rev. Marie Mainard O’Connell as pastor of Park Hill Presbyterian Church in North Little Rock, Arkansas, March 25, 2018.

Today is a great day. It’s a great day for Park Hill Presbyterian Church, as you officially install one of the most committed and talented pastors I have ever known as your new minister. It’s a great day for Marie Mainard O’Connell, as she joins Park Hill in your the long history of faithful witness to North Little Rock and to the world. It’s a great day for the Presbytery of Arkansas as we celebrate with you this new moment in our ongoing ministry together. It is a wonderful day!

Yet it should probably give us at least a moment of pause that we are celebrating this installation on the afternoon of Palm Sunday. Like our installation service today, the original Palm Sunday celebrated a triumphal arrival in a new town, as Jesus arrived for the first time in Jerusalem. Like today, the people welcomed him with shouts of acclamation and joy! Like today, they rolled out the red carpet for him, albeit a makeshift one made of cloaks and palm branches. Like today, it was a special day of celebration indeed!

But of course, by Friday, they had crucified him.

While I say this half in jest, I do note that in today’s scripture from Second Corinthians, the apostle Paul explicitly compares his own time of ministry to the crucifixion of Jesus. He says that doing the work of the Gospel is like carrying around the death of Jesus in our bodies.

Speaking to the church in Corinth Paul says,

We have this treasure in clay jars, so that it may be made clear that this extraordinary power belongs to God and does not come from us. We are afflicted in every way, but not crushed; perplexed, but not driven to despair; persecuted, but not forsaken; struck down, but not destroyed; always carrying in the body the death of Jesus, so that the life of Jesus may also be made visible in our bodies. For while we live, we are always being given up to death for Jesus’ sake, so that the life of Jesus may be made visible in our mortal flesh. So death is at work in us, but life in you. (2 Corinthians 4:7-12)

Paul’s words provide an important context for a day like today, when we celebrate this new pastoral relationship. The message is that, in the midst of our celebrating, we should remember that we ourselves are not the treasure to be celebrated. We are but the vessels. Fragile clay pots. Drab and imperfect and easily broken.

It is easy on a day like today to get confused about that, since today everything seems all shiny and bright and new. Today we can imagine that Marie is the most perfect pastor who has ever pastored. We can imagine that she preaches like Peter, evangelizes like Paul, and gives pastoral care like Mother Teresa. So, too, we can imagine that Park Hill Presbyterian Church is the most perfect church that has ever churched. We can imagine that everyone in the congregation tithes 20%, applauds at the end of every sermon, and never complains about a thing.

On a day like today, we are tempted to imagine each other as perfect. To pretend there are no flaws. To view each other as pristine treasures made in our own image. But you know—and I know—and Paul knows—and God knows that isn’t the case. We aren’t golden chalices. We aren’t pearls of great price. We are but jars of clay. We are—all of us—every one—made of dirt, held together but by the grace of God.

Yet Paul doesn’t mean this to make us feel bad about ourselves. He doesn’t mean to suggest that we would be better ministers or better elders or better church members or better preachers if only we weren’t so plain and ordinary.

In fact, Paul means quite the opposite. He says that “we have this treasure”—that is we have the Gospel of Jesus Christ—“in clay jars SO THAT it may be made clear that this extraordinary power belongs to God and does not come from us” (4:7). God doesn’t work through us in spite of our flaws and imperfections. Rather, it is precisely our flaws and imperfections that allow God’s power to be at work in us. If we were perfect, people would be impressed by us and wouldn’t see God at work in us. But if good things can come even through plain and fragile people like us, it is clear that it is not we ourselves but God who is at work in us.

When I first got to know Marie, we were both serving on the Visioning Team of Mercy Community Church of Little Rock, a little worshiping community we helped found back in 2015. Mercy Church welcomes all people, but we have a particular mission of extending hospitality to those who may have no other community to turn to—people who are homeless, people with addictions, people living with mental illnesses.

One of the things I have grown to love about Mercy Church is that absolutely no one there thinks they are perfect. No one even tries to pretend. We just allow ourselves to be the beautiful, messy, flawed people that we are.

As part of our service at Mercy Church, we have a time when people can share a story or poem or song with the community. One day Marie shared a story that has become one of our community’s favorites. They have asked her to tell it over and over again, just about every time she would come to worship with us. That story has come to encapsulate for me what it means for us to be the church together.

While I can’t tell it like Marie, it goes something like this:

A man had two large pots that he used to carry water from the stream back to his house along a narrow path. Each hung on one end of a pole that he carried across his shoulders. One of the pots was perfectly made and never leaked. But the other pot had a crack in it. By the time the man would walk from the stream back to the house, the cracked pot would have leaked half its water onto the ground.

This went on day after day. The man would carry the two pots to the stream and fill them both. On the way home, the cracked pot would lose half its water while the other pot remained full.

The cracked pot was ashamed of its crack. Because of its imperfection, it thought, it was only able to do half of what the man needed it to do. It longed to be like the perfect pot. After a long time, the cracked pot spoke to the man one day as he drew water from the stream.

“I am ashamed of myself, and I want to apologize to you,” the pot said.

“What do you have to be ashamed of?” the man responded.

“Because of this crack,” the pot replied, “half my water leaks out on the way back to the house. You would be better off if I had no flaw. I’m ashamed that I haven’t been able to serve you well because of my crack.”

The man looked kindly at the cracked pot and said, “My dear old pot, you haven’t failed me. While we walk back to the house today, I want you to look at all of the beautiful flowers along the path.” And sure enough, as they walked home the pot opened its eyes and noticed for the first time the beautiful array of flowers that decorated the journey home.

When they reached the house, the man said to the pot, “Did you notice that the flowers were growing only on one side of the path? They grow only on the side where I carry you, but not on the other pot’s side. You see, I knew about your crack, and so I planted flowers all along your side of the path. While we are walking back from the stream, you aren’t losing water—you are making the flowers grow!

Now everyone who walks along the path looks at the flowers and thinks about how beautiful they are. You bring joy to every single person who walks down the path! What you perceive as a flaw is the very thing that gives life to the flowers and brings beauty into the world!”

At Mercy Church, that story resonates. Our friends are so often told that they are broken, that they are flawed, that they are cracked, that many of them have come to believe that they have no value. But, despite their cracks, they bring so much beauty into the world, if only they—and we—could take the time to see it. They are cooks and painters and story tellers. They are poets and jokesters and comfort givers. While the world focuses on their cracks, they are bringing life into the world.

Of course, it’s not just Mercy Church. Every community—every church—including this one—is full of flawed, messy, imperfect people. Now sometimes for us Presbyterians it can be hard to admit our flaws, even though we know we have them. For the frozen chosen, emotional self reflection doesn’t always come naturally. We like to imagine ourselves perfect, or at least we try to make other people think we are. We like to believe we are the unbroken pot that can carry our own water. But, if we’re honest, every single one of us is a cracked pot, too.

But, Paul tells us, that is the beauty of being the church together. God doesn’t need us to be perfect. God’s glory is made manifest exactly in our imperfection. Because of our flaws, because of our brokenness, because of our frailty, God brings life into the world through us. God brings beauty into the world through us. God brings hope to a broken and hurting world through us.

So as you begin this journey of ministry together, the wisdom of this text is this: Don’t expect each other to be treasures. Don’t expect each other to remain perfect, and shiny, and new. Because you won’t. Paul tells us—and we ourselves know—that the life of ministry is hard. Being the church together is difficult. Sharing the good news of resurrection life in a world dominated by the power of death is exhausting.

It will reveal our flaws. It will show our imperfections. It will make clear that we are but vessels of clay.

So don’t expect each other to be treasures.

But do treasure each other. Treasure each other for all the messy clay jar-ness you each bring to this new relationship. Treasure each other as bearers of God’s love for the world. Treasure each other for all of the flaws and all of the imperfections that God uses to demonstrate the power of resurrection life to a world that seems overwhelmed by the power of death. Treasure each other for all the quirks and cracks that make you who you are, through which you make known the true treasure that is the Gospel of Jesus Christ, crucified and resurrected, so that all might have love and life abundantly.

So, as we gather here on this installation Sunday, let us praise God for the imperfect ministry of Marie Mainard O’Connell! Let us praise God for the imperfect congregation of Park Hill Presbyterian Church! Let us praise God for the imperfect witness of the Presbytery of Arkansas, and of the Presbyterian Church (USA), and of the Church of Jesus Christ throughout the world! For it is through us, flawed as we are, that Christ is bringing light and life into the world.

May you—and may we all—be blessed on the journey!

Amen.