One of my favorite details about Easter Sunday, and Jesus’s resurrection body, is his scars. The victory of Easter is so great, the triumph of the risen Christ over sin and death is so resounding, that we might be prone to overlook, or quickly forget, an unexpected detail like this.

When Jesus first appeared to his disciples, “they were startled and frightened and thought they saw a spirit” (Luke 24:37). So Jesus says to them, “Why are you troubled, and why do doubts arise in your hearts? See my hands and my feet, that it is I myself. Touch me, and see. For a spirit does not have flesh and bones as you see that I have” (Luke 24:38–39). Then Luke comments, “And when he had said this, he showed them his hands and his feet” — meaning, he showed them his scars (Luke 24:40).

In the Gospel of John, when Jesus finally appears to doubting Thomas after eight long days, he says to him, “Put your finger here, and see my hands; and put out your hand, and place it in my side. Do not disbelieve, but believe” (John 20:27).

That Jesus’s resurrected body would still show evidence of his wounds, that the scars of crucifixion could still be seen and touched, was both a confirmation and a surprise. The confirmation was that this was in fact him — and him risen. The same body that was killed on the cross rose from the grave. He was not a spirit or ghost. He was risen, fully alive, now in glorified humanity.

“Jesus’s scars are marks of his love. His scars tell the good news that he did not die for his own sins but for ours.”

The surprise is that we might expect a resurrected body not to have scars. That might seem like a defect. But it is not a defect. It is a feature. Because these scars, these rich wounds, are marks of his love. These scars tell the good news that he did not die for his own sins, but for ours. His wounds are invitations to sinners and assurances to his saints. His scars preach good news. They are marks of Easter glory, the very glory that makes the horrors of his death into what we now call “Good Friday.”

The Gospel in All Caps

And so on Easter Sunday, we come to the end of Galatians, and one of the last things Paul writes with his own hand is this: “I bear on my body the marks of Jesus” (Galatians 6:17). Like Jesus, Paul also had gospel scars — scars which pointed not to his own work, but to Jesus’s work.

Just as sinners had struck and killed the Son of God, so too sinners had struck and scarred his messenger. In 2 Corinthians 11, Paul mentions some of what he has suffered for the sake of Christ: “. . . countless beatings, and often near death. Five times I received at the hands of the Jews the forty lashes less one. Three times I was beaten with rods. Once I was stoned” (2 Corinthians 11:23–25). Paul’s scars, “the marks of Jesus” he received from preaching the resurrection of Christ, are his final argument in Galatians. Before he closes in Galatians 6:18 with, “The grace of our Lord Jesus Christ be with your spirit, brothers. Amen,” he puts the final period in place with his own life — with what he has been willing to suffer in order to preach and defend the meaning of Good Friday and the news of Easter Sunday.

But not only is Paul’s final argument “the marks of Jesus” that he carries in his own body, but in this last section, he takes up the pen himself, relieving the secretary to whom he has dictated the rest of the letter. And so he says in Galatians 6:11, “See with what large letters I am writing to you with my own hand.”

This is Paul’s way — here at the end, with so much on the line in Galatians — of shifting into bold font. This is the apostle Paul in all caps. So, these precious five sentences of Galatians 6:12–17 that will follow are direct and blood-earnest, with a power that is very fitting for Easter Sunday. And what we see is that this last flourish of Paul’s pen turns on the reality of boasting. Let’s look at these verses in that light, with Easter eyes, in three steps.

1. Humans are born to boast.

We are born boasters. You are a born boaster — in two senses. The first sense is that we are boasters by creation. God designed us, before sin entered in, with the capacity to boast. Indeed, he designed us with the calling to boast. And what I mean by boasting is rejoicing out loud in words.

God made humans not only to think and do, but to feel and to speak. He gave us hearts, and he gave us mouths. He created us in his image, meaning he created us to image him in this world, to represent him and remind others of him — both fellow humans and the watching angels.

And he not only gave us the ability to think and consider, but also to feel. He not only gave us bodies to move and work and do, but tongues to speak, giving meaning to our works with words. In other words, God made us to boast in him — that is, to not only know him with our minds, but rejoice in him in our hearts, and to not only live in obedience to him, but speak words out of our hearts that point others to him. God made us to boast in him.

Because of Sin

And as we know all too well, though, there is a second sense in which we are born to boast. We are born into sin, and so our natural inclination to boast often becomes sinful boasting. Instead of rejoicing out loud about God, we rejoice out loud about ourselves in all the various and complex forms this takes. We all know this. We all have lived this. And of course, we’re often far quicker to recognize it in others than in ourselves.

As a youth baseball coach, let me tell you that we don’t have to teach kids to boast. Rather, we try to help them not indulge their instinct to boast in the heat of the game. We say things like, “Let your play do the talking.”

What about your own soul? What are your boasts? What aspects of life — whether manifest gifts from God or seeming abilities and accomplishments — do you rejoice in most and feel most drawn to express in words? What are you so regularly excited about that you can’t help but talk about? What qualities, possessions, abilities, achievements, or relational connections make you look good when others hear about them?

“The question isn’t whether we will boast, but in what and in whom.”

When Paul takes up the pen for himself in Galatians 6:11, he puts boasting at the heart of his last push toward the Galatians. They, as well as the false teachers trying to influence them, and Paul himself, are all born boasters. We are born boasters. The question isn’t whether we will boast, but in what and in whom we will boast.

How Will You Boast?

First, Paul turns to what not to boast in:

It is those who want to make a good showing in the flesh who would force you to be circumcised, and only in order that they may not be persecuted for the cross of Christ. For even those who are circumcised do not themselves keep the law, but they desire to have you circumcised that they may boast in your flesh. (Galatians 6:12–13)

I think this is the most direct and succinct summary of what motivates the troublemakers in Galatia. They are putting on a show to appease unbelieving Jews. They are play-acting. They themselves do not keep the whole Jewish law. They know they can’t, and they don’t want to, besides.

But what they do want to do is avoid persecution. This new movement of Christians, claiming that Jesus is the long-awaited Christ, is troubling Jewish leaders. And now the movement is spreading to Gentiles. Non-Christian Jews want to snuff this out. They begin persecuting Christians — like Paul himself had done, before the risen Christ appeared to him and turned his life upside down.

And so the false teachers are trying to avoid persecution. They want to appease non-Christian Jews by boasting to them that Gentile converts to Christ are coming under the Jewish law. The word here for “make a good showing” is literally “have a good face.” The false teachers themselves don’t keep the law, but they are trying to get Gentile Christians to receive circumcision so they can boast in their flesh and “have a good face” to avoid persecution.

And Paul says that however well-intentioned or naïve this may be, it is dead wrong, and it compromises the very heart of the Christian message that promises Jesus is enough for right standing with God.

So, we are born boasters — by God’s design, and also in our sin. And the false teachers, to save their own flesh (from persecution) want to be able to boast in the flesh (from circumcision) of these Gentile Christians in Galatia.

2. Jesus turns boasting upside down.

Second, Paul contrasts their sinful boast with his own holy boast, which he wants the Galatians, and us, to join him in. This is how he wants us to rejoice in words.

Paul does not say that becoming a Christian banishes all boasting. We still boast. Oh, do we! Worship is boasting. Preaching is boasting. Sharing the gospel is a holy and humble kind of boasting — rejoicing in words. But Christian boasting is not like the natural, sinful boasting into which we’re born. It is not boasting in the flesh. It is not boasting in outward appearance. It is not boasting in our own strength.

Christian boasting is boasting turned upside down because of the worth and beauty and power of Jesus Christ. Look at Galatians 6:14, which says: “But far be it from me to boast except in the cross of our Lord Jesus Christ, by which the world has been crucified to me, and I to the world.” So Paul does boast. But he boasts in the cross, of all things. The cross.

Christ on the Cross

Today, it’s easy for us to be all too familiar with the cross. We see them on steeples. We wear them on necklaces. We sing about the cross. And it’s easy to forget or to overlook what the cross meant in the first century.

Some might be familiar with the hymn “Old Rugged Cross,” which calls the cross “an emblem of suffering and shame.” The cross was horrific. It was reserved for the worst of rebels against the Roman empire, and it was designed to not only make death literally excruciating and lengthy, but also utterly shameful.

And Paul says, “May I never boast, except in the cross of our Lord Jesus Christ.”

What a turn, that the very thing — a crucified Messiah — that seemed so shameful, such a stumbling block to Jews, and such folly to Gentiles, would be not only a critical truth for Christians, but central. We talk about the cross every Sunday. We remember it at the Lord’s Table. We depict it in baptism. The cross — the public execution of the Son of God — is not just a barrier to overcome to embrace the Christian faith, but it is at the very heart of our faith. We celebrate it, and we draw attention to it. We boast in it.

Why is that? Because the wounds Jesus received at the cross were not for his own sins, but for ours. Isaiah 53:5 says,

He was pierced for our transgressions;     he was crushed for our iniquities;upon him was the chastisement that brought us peace,     and with his wounds we are healed.

The eternal Son of God took on human flesh and blood and went to that rugged, offensive, horrific, shamefully public cross, as the spotless Lamb, to die for our sins. For our rebellion, for our countless sinful boasts in our own flesh, we were the ones who deserved to spill our own blood in violent death and be eternally separated from God.

But the wonder of Christianity, the heart of our faith, the very good news which we call “the gospel,” is that Jesus went to the cross for us — for all those who would take Paul’s invitation to turn our boasting upside down and rejoice in words, “Jesus is Lord.”

Our Suffering and Weakness

We see elsewhere in Paul how Jesus turns our boasting upside down. Instead of boasting in comfort and ease in this life, Paul says in Romans 5:3, “We boast in our sufferings.” If God works the greatest good through the greatest evil — that is, the crucifixion of the Son of God — then our sufferings in this life are turned upside down. We grieve them, yet even as we do, we rejoice in what God is doing in and through them.

And instead of boasting in our own strengths and abilities, Paul says in 2 Corinthians 11:30, “I will boast of the things that show my weakness.” And in 2 Corinthians 12:9 he says, “I will boast all the more gladly of my weaknesses, so that the power of Christ may rest upon me.”

Jesus turns our boasting upside down. Instead of boasting in our comforts, we boast in our sufferings. Instead of boasting in our strengths, we boast in our weaknesses. Instead of boasting in natural human conceptions of glory and power, just like the world, we boast in the offense of the cross.

Cross-Conscious Boasting

But it’s Easter Sunday. What about the resurrection? When Paul says in Galatians 6:14, “May I never boast unless in the cross of our Lord Jesus Christ,” how does Easter fit? If all Christian boasting is a boasting in and under the banner of the cross, what do we make of our Easter boast that he is risen?

The answer is that, yes, we boast in the resurrection, but it is a certain kind of boasting. It is a humbled boast. It is a God-magnifying boast. It is a Christ-treasuring boast. It is a cross-conscious boast. It is a boast in the surpassing power of God uniquely on display in and through human weakness, and suffering, and even death. It is the kind of boasting that comes on the other side of the grave, on the other side of crucifixion, on the other side of Christ turning the world, and us, upside down.

“We boast in the cross because the one who died there for our sins rose again Sunday morning to be our living Lord.”

And not only is the Easter boast permissible; it is essential. Paul’s boasting in the cross implies the Easter boast. If there is no Easter boast, there is no boasting in the cross. If Jesus stays dead, there is no glory in his cross. We boast in the cross, because the one who died there for our sins rose again Sunday morning to be our living, breathing, loving, reigning Lord. And our boasting in the resurrection is a certain kind of boasting because it is also a boasting in the cross.

3. Christians boast in the resurrection too.

Let’s see the resurrection for ourselves in Galatians 6:15–16, which begin with the word for and explain what Paul has just said Galatians 6:14. Galatians 6:15–16 says, “For neither circumcision counts for anything, nor uncircumcision, but a new creation. And as for all who walk by this rule, peace and mercy be upon them, and upon the Israel of God.” The first and most obvious link to resurrection is “new creation.” New creation points to God’s action and initiative and power, not ours.

That’s the contrast between circumcision and new creation. In this context, circumcision would be an action the Galatians would take in an effort to make sure they’re in right standing with God. And remarkably, Paul says uncircumcision doesn’t count either. Neither taking that step in the flesh, or refusing to take that step, wins you God’s acceptance. You cannot, in your flesh, earn God’s full and final favor.

What counts is what he does. His work in Christ. His new creation. And the beginning of this new creation is the resurrection of Jesus Christ. Easter Sunday is the great first and decisive initiative, the great burst of divine power that launches a new creation, beginning with Christ then coming to us, as God makes us new creatures in Christ, through faith, and then culminating someday with a new heavens and new earth. So “new creation” is the first glimpse of Easter.

Crucified with Christ

The second link to resurrection is the connection to Galatians 2:20, a connection which appears at the end of Galatians 6:14. Here Paul says that by the cross “the world has been crucified to me, and I to the world.” The other place in this letter where Paul talks about being crucified with Christ is Galatians 2:20: “I have been crucified with Christ. It is no longer I who live, but Christ who lives in me. And the life I now live in the flesh I live by faith in the Son of God, who loved me and gave himself for me.”

Galatians 6:14 only mentions crucifixion, but what Galatians 2:20 makes plain is that crucifixion with Christ by faith means resurrection with him. Just as Christ was crucified and raised, so Paul’s old self — our old self — was crucified with Christ by faith, and we too have been raised to new life. We now live with a new heart, a new center, a new ultimate allegiance; we are new creatures, indwelt by God’s Spirit, even as we continue to battle and make headway against remaining sin.

And this reality of being a “new creation” in Christ is both personal and individual, as well as corporate. Not only did Christ very personally “love me and give himself for me” at the cross, but he loved us, his church, and made us a people together in him.

Galatians 6:16 says that “all who walk by this rule” — that is, all who own God’s work and power in making them new creatures — are God’s true people. He calls them “the Israel of God.” This is the church, the true Israel. “The Jerusalem above,” as he says in Galatians 4:36. Or like he says in Philippians 3:3, “We are the [true] circumcision, who worship by the Spirit of God and [boast] in Christ Jesus and put no confidence in the flesh.”

There is a twist of irony here in response to the false teachers. Do you want to be God’s people? Do you want to be in “the Israel of God,” in contrast to the Israel of the flesh? Then leave behind the life of flesh, circumcision, and law, and live instead according to the Spirit and faith and love, as those who have been loved by God in Christ.

Scarred for Christ

Finally, we end with one last Easter connection to the resurrection: “the marks of Jesus.” Paul comes to the end of Galatians, takes the pen in his own hand to write Galatians 6:11–16, and then his one last word, before the concluding benediction, is one final boast. And it is a boast in the cross: “From now on let no one cause me trouble, for I bear on my body the marks of Jesus” (Galatians 6:17).

In other words, Paul is saying, “Not only do I answer with this letter, but I answer with my life. My skin is scarred — from being beaten, and lashed, and stoned — because I have stood by this gospel with my own life.”

He is saying, “Rather than trying to tweak the message to avoid persecution, as the false teachers are doing, I have not been deterred by threats. Rather than seeking, under pressure, to make marks in other people’s flesh and boast in a head count of circumcisions, marks have been made in my flesh as I have preached and defended the truth that Jesus’s cross and resurrection, embraced by faith alone, are enough to get and keep us right with God.”

“And so I bear on my own body,” Paul says, “as faint echoes and pointers, the very ‘marks of Jesus’ that he bears on his resurrection body — marks that are no defect, but shine with glory.” Paul boasts in the cross and the resurrection. And so we boast, The Lord is risen. The Lord is risen indeed.

Commune with the Living Christ

As we come to the Lord’s Table on this Easter Sunday, we celebrate that the Jesus whom we remember here is alive. His resurrection not only makes good on God’s word, and not only vindicates his sinless life, and not only confirms that his cross-work was effective to cover our sins, and not only gives us access to that salvation by union with him, but the resurrection means he is alive, right now, in glorified humanity, scars and all, at God’s right hand, to know and enjoy forever.

We call this “Communion” not only because we commune with each other as we come together to his Table, but first and foremost because we commune with him — the risen, living Christ. As we eat in faith, we receive him afresh, by his Spirit, and commune with our risen, living Lord.

Audio Transcript

Are there morally neutral areas of life? That’s the first question on the table as we begin this new week together. Welcome back to the podcast, and thank you for making us a part of your weekly routine.

The question is from Mary Beth, who lives in Arkansas. She writes, “Hello, Pastor John, and thank you for the Ask Pastor John podcast. A question has been troubling me for a while. It’s this one. I’m wondering if everything in life is either a good thing or a sin. Or are there some ‘okay’ things that aren’t sin, but aren’t exactly good? Sometimes I do things that don’t seem beneficial. I can’t tell if I need forgiveness for them. I usually ask for forgiveness anyways. I guess basically my question boils down to that. Pastor John, yes or no, are there morally neutral areas of life?”

I can’t give a yes or a no answer until I clarify some terms. So what is sin? What is the moral good? What does morally neutral mean? This is one of those great illustrations of how simply defining our terms virtually answers the question. It’s a great lesson to learn. I recommend it to everybody. I find that most arguments people are having go round and round because the terms are not defined with any biblical precision. And the reason I say biblical precision is because if you don’t have an authority that you can both agree on, then you probably won’t even be able to define your terms in a way that you both can agree on, and you’ll just be stuck.

Our culture right now is stuck because we don’t share much common ground under our disputes. And a stuck culture is a dangerous thing, because if there’s no agreed-upon arbiter of truth claims, then what comes in to fill that void is usually raw power. If some common ground doesn’t decide what’s right, then might makes right. Or more to the point here, if a shared authority, like the Bible, does not decide the definition of our terms, then the one with the most power will decide how words are going to be used. And that’s how the Holocaust happened. That’s how race-based slavery happened. That’s how abortion happens. The powerful decide how the word person is going to be used and who fits with it and who doesn’t. And without an agreed-upon authority to arbitrate, the powerful define the terms to suit their preference.

Well, that’s way more than Mary Beth asked for. In fact, she didn’t ask for that at all, but now and then I like to explain on this podcast why I make such a big deal out of defining our terms.

What Is Sin?

So here’s my effort to clarify the terms of Mary Beth’s question. “Is everything in life,” she says, “a good thing or a sin? Are there morally neutral areas?” That’s her question.

So what is sin? There are at least two passages in Paul that I think get at the heart of what sin is. One is Romans 1–3. Romans 3:23 says, “All have sinned and fall short of [or literally, lack] the glory of God” (Romans 3:23). And I connect that statement with Romans 1:23, where humans exchange the glory of God for the glory of created things, including the human self, my glory (Romans 1:23). That’s my favorite idol, right? So I think what Romans 3:23 means is that all human beings sin in that we prefer created glory over God’s glory. We exchange God’s glory for something we prefer. We lack or fall short of the glory of God.

So sin is first — this is my definition drawn from Romans — the disposition of the human heart to prefer human glory, especially self-glory, over God’s glory. And then secondarily, sins (plural) would be the attitudes and words and actions that stem from that disposition. That’s my definition of sin from Romans 1–3.

The other passage that defines the heart of sin is Romans 14:21–23, where Paul is talking about eating meat and drinking wine. And he says, “Whoever has doubts is condemned if he eats, because the eating is not from faith. For whatever does not proceed from faith is sin” (Romans 14:23). Wow. That’s pretty sweeping. Paul is willing to define sin as whatever is not from faith, which I think — when you analyze it carefully, down to the bottom — is really the same as the definition in Romans 1–3.

“If the disposition of our heart is not to receive Christ, then what comes from that heart is sin.”

If the disposition of our heart is not to receive Christ — I’m thinking of what faith is right now, namely, to own Christ as our supreme Savior and guide and treasure — then what comes from that heart is sin. That heart is the same as the heart that prefers created glory over God’s glory.

Acting from Faith

Now, with that definition of sin, the definition of what is morally good follows as the flip side of sin or evil. Moral good is the disposition of the heart to prefer God over all, or to treasure God in Christ over all, so that the attitudes and words and actions that stem from that heart are good, morally good.

Now, there are two other ways to describe this moral good, because they result from acting in faith or a preference for the superior worth of God in Christ. One is to say that the moral good is those attitudes and words and actions that God has commanded (1 John 5:2). The other is to say that the moral good is attitudes and words and actions that aim to glorify God (1 Corinthians 10:31). So we’re actually on safest ground, I think, to say that what is morally good has all three of these traits:

It comes from faith.
It accords with God’s commands.
It aims to glorify God.

That’s the moral good.

For His Glory

So here’s the implication about whether there are neutral areas of life, because that’s what she’s asking about. If we mean, “Are there actions considered without any reference to humans doing those actions, just actions in the abstract?” the answer is yes. There are thousands of such morally neutral (in that sense) actions, like walking down the street, drinking a glass of water, or putting on your shoes.

“If you do something from faith that’s not forbidden in the Scriptures, it has moral goodness, no matter what it is.”

It’s not so much that they are morally neutral, though — I’m a little skittish about that phrase — but that they have no moral standing at all until a human being is doing them. As soon as someone does them, no matter how simple, no matter how supposedly neutral, they cease to be neutral. They become moral because, Paul said, “Whatever you do, do all” — put on your shoes, walk down the street — “to the glory of God” (1 Corinthians 10:31). And either we do that or we don’t. And that criterion makes them either sin or not sin. And in the same way, we could ask, “Did we do them from faith?” Whatever is not from faith is sin. Did I put on my shoes from a disposition of faith? If not, Paul says, it is a sin. You can put on your shoes rebelliously. You really can.

I think what this means for Mary Beth’s concern is this: if an action or attitude is not forbidden or commanded in the Bible, then the question for her (and for all of us) is, Am I moved to do this action by faith and by a desire to glorify God? If so, then she invests that seemingly neutral act with moral goodness. If you do something from faith that’s not forbidden in the Scriptures, it has moral goodness, no matter what it is. And if not, then no matter how neutral the act may seem, she makes it a sin because it’s not done in reliance upon Christ or for his glory.

One year ago, we lost our youngest daughter to her longstanding battle against addiction. Walking alongside her in this multiyear struggle sank us into parts of this broken world we never dreamed we would inhabit. Dark places with desperate people became familiar terrain. We fought for life. Death won. Now our precious daughter is gone. Each morning I stare into the eyes of her 2-year-old son, now entrusted to us.

Since then, I’ve learned a lot about grief. I have seen how it attacks meaning and motivation. Grief creeps up and seizes a moment, an hour, an afternoon. I think it’s going to be like this for a while. The shadow of death; the empty chair; the burden of shame; the clay pot, broken.

Ministry, if I’m honest, is conflicting. It’s been more splendid than I possibly expected and more painful than I ever dreamed. Somewhere along the way, I began to think differently about resilience. It’s no longer the place I am reaching for after the pain. It’s the work of God, in and through mystery and agony, by which he is helping me persevere in a way that reveals his power.

Treasure in Jars of Clay

In 1947, a young Bedouin shepherd was herding his flock on a hill near the Dead Sea. Since sheep are prone to wander, one little lamb ambled away. The shepherd set out on a search that led him to a dark cave on the northwestern ridge.

The young shepherd approached the cave mouth, peered inside, and then chucked a rock into the darkness. Something shattered. Crawling through the entrance, the intrepid shepherd came face to face with an archaeological wonder.

The boy found a row of enormous clay pots, larger than him — each one sealed shut. Popping one lid, he found ancient scrolls inside — some wrapped in linen, others blackened to the point of being unreadable. Little did the shepherd know that he would be immortalized as the guy who discovered the Dead Sea Scrolls.

A treasure of incomprehensible value. Stored in clay pots.

Clay-Pot Conspiracy

Make no mistake: ministry is hard. We come aboard assuming God tapped us for our strengths. But God’s program incorporates many of our weaknesses. In a broken world, ministry is often conveyed through broken vessels. Listen to how the apostle Paul describes it:

We have this treasure in jars of clay, to show that the surpassing power belongs to God and not to 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 manifested in our bodies. For we who live are always being given over to death for Jesus’ sake, so that the life of Jesus may also be manifested in our mortal flesh. So death is at work in us, but life in you. (2 Corinthians 4:7–12)

Paul faced opposition in Corinth. Tradition has it that he was somewhat unattractive and sported some kind of eye condition (see 2 Corinthians 10:10; Galatians 4:13–15). From his opponents’ point of view, Paul was too plain, too contemptible, too weak. But Paul counters with a decidedly unconventional defense. To the charge that he’s insufficient, Paul says, “Guilty.” To the charge that he’s an unrefined orator, Paul repeats, “Guilty.” To the charge that he’s weak, Paul asserts, “Guilty!” Paul flips the script on his detractors by saying, “You think my weakness disqualifies me. But actually, it’s the core of my credentials.”

Paul discovered a secret: his weakness was an opportunity for God’s power. He learned that when our weakness meets God’s grace, strength abounds. It’s what I like to call the “clay-pot conspiracy.”

Although the word conspiracy has dark overtones, I think it accurately conveys the essence behind God’s hidden agenda. God has a covert plan to sabotage the enemy and to display his power. It’s a secret design to humble the proud, abolish boasting, and establish the ground for our longevity.

That’s what I mean by the clay-pot conspiracy. And it’s as simple as this: Our weakness + God’s power = resilient ministry.

Filled with Gospel

Paul states, “We have treasure in jars of clay, to show that the surpassing power belongs to God and not to us” (2 Corinthians 4:7).

Paul’s treasure is his gospel ministry. Paul is speaking about the resplendent worth of the incomparable gospel, the priceless message about the Savior who left the glory of heaven and died to save sinners. But let’s connect a couple of dots. Gospel ministry is a privilege many of us share with Paul. It is a privilege that we’re called to when we enter ministry as leaders in the local church. We share the glorious honor of proclaiming the gospel of Jesus Christ, to see the light of God’s glory go forward through the finished work of Jesus.

Now comes the conspiracy. At the heart of this passage rests a stunning contrast. This incomprehensible treasure is stored in fragile jars of clay. Church leader, God is talking about you. You have something of infinite value stored in your ministry, your body, your life — your clay pot. You are the receptacle; you are the clay pot in which the treasure of the gospel rests.

Can You Own Your Weakness?

When I was 7 years old, my brother — such a nutcase, my brother — called me over to the gravel parking lot across from our house. “Dave,” he said. “Come here. I want to show you something.”

In his hand was a gold nugget — at least what looked like a gold nugget; I didn’t yet see the gold spray-paint cans littered on the ground around his feet.

“Whoa! Where did you get that?” I said.

“Right here, man!” he said. “And they’re sprinkled all over the parking lot. It’s filled with gold!”

I stood astounded. But my brother was just getting started. “And guess what? I bought the whole lot!”

Then he stepped forward. “And since I’m your brother, here’s the first piece of gold from my new lot.” He reached over and set the spray-painted piece of gravel in my sweaty hand. When I close my eyes, I can still remember the sensation of awe as I palmed this priceless mineral that had transformed me into a wildly wealthy kid.

Feeling the burden of spontaneous wealth, I knew my gold needed to be secured. So I ran home, rushed upstairs, and grabbed a shoe box. I put my gold nugget in the middle of the shoe box, and I stuffed newspaper all around it. Then I wrapped it in duct tape (because we all know that duct tape is impregnable to burglars). The box then went into the bottom drawer of my dresser (because no criminal would ever think of going into the bottom drawer). Even at 7, I knew that my treasure should be in the safest place I could find.

But God’s strategy is different. God stores his treasure in something common and breakable. We think our battle with anxiety makes us less effective to lead. We assume our bodily illness or our prodigal child means the end of usefulness for God. But beneath your pain there is a plan — the clay-pot conspiracy. God is working to make your life speak in ways you never imagined. How? God stores his treasure in clay to show that the surpassing power belongs to him and not to us (2 Corinthians 4:7).

We are not always strong. We are weak. And the only way to experience God’s surpassing power is to own our fragility. God stores his treasure in jars of clay. Can you own it?

Break the Pot to Free the Power

The intruders in Corinth were known for boasting about their power — for talking incessantly about the triumphs of their leadership. So, Paul says to them, “Let me share with you my ministry profile.” Then, the apostle provides these four contrasts (2 Corinthians 4:8–9):

“We are afflicted in every way, but not crushed.”
“We are . . . perplexed, but not driven to despair.”
“We are . . . persecuted, but not forsaken.”
“We are . . . struck down, but not destroyed.”

Ministry, for Paul, was complicated and excruciating. It was a life where you’re afflicted, baffled, persecuted, and struck down. Paul summarizes it by saying, “We are . . . always carrying in the body the death of Jesus” (2 Corinthians 4:10).

“Your pain is designed to produce a leader who embodies the gospel message.”

As with Paul, your pain is designed to produce a leader who embodies the gospel message. God triggers experiences of death in us so that gospel life might flow. It’s a series of trials where your kids see you maligned, but you do not retaliate; where one sleepless night rolls into the next; where you keep loving when you feel like your heart is empty.

But it’s all part of the plan. Death is at work “so that the life of Jesus also may be manifested in our mortal flesh.” Do you see the plan? God breaks the pot to free the power.

That’s right. Your weaknesses and struggles — the very places your mind is going as you read this — are the very places God makes his power known most clearly. You are walking the path behind Paul. “I carry death, so that the life of Christ may be manifested in me.”

It’s strange, isn’t it? We come into leadership thinking the kingdom advances by strong people using amazing gifts to bear epic fruit. But God says, “Not really. When I want to shape a soul for service, I bid him to come and die. When I want my gospel to ring forth, I break the pot.”

Your suffering is meant to produce life for others. It’s not merely confounding. It’s the clay-pot conspiracy. Our weakness + God’s power = resilient ministry.

Resilience Right Now

Leader, remember: Your suffering is not an obstacle to resilience. It’s the means of producing it. It’s all part of God’s conspiracy, where “suffering produces endurance, and endurance produces character, and character produces hope” (Romans 5:3–4). God breaks the pot to shape the soul. It’s a mysterious grace we are given, a grace upon which we stand (Romans 5:2).

If you’re struggling for resilience right now, remember: Your pot is not the first to be broken. The clay pot of Christ’s body was broken for our sins. Then Christ rose from death on the third day. It’s the conspiracy’s origin: God made death produce life.

“From the ashes of your brokenness, God is kindling the fire of hope and life.”

Leaders, don’t begrudge the nails that pin you to the cross. Don’t despise your places of death. From the ashes of your brokenness, God is kindling the fire of hope and life. Though it baffles the mind, those wounds are fortifying the resilience you seek. And they are preparing your soul to meet a Savior. Each day in heaven will be more glorious because of what you have borne on earth.

When I look into my grandson’s eyes and see my daughter, the pang reminds me that God breaks the pot to free his power. If you’re in ministry and experiencing any kind of loss, the breaking is also forging a more durable soul. The kind that reminds the world of the true power behind a crucified Savior.

My weakness plus God’s power equals my resilience. It’s the clay-pot conspiracy. And it is magnificent!