Fish or Cut Bait

2 Corinthians 4:1-12

But we have this treasure in clay jars, so that it will be evident that such overwhelming power comes from God and not from us.

We have all kinds of troubles, but we are not crushed; we are perplexed, yet not in despair;

persecuted, yet not abandoned; knocked down, yet not destroyed.

10 We always carry in our bodies the dying of Yeshua, so that the life of Yeshua may be manifested in our bodies too.

 11 For we who are alive are always being handed over to death for Yeshua’s sake, so that Yeshua’s life also might be manifested in our mortal bodies.

12 Thus death is at work in us but life in you.

Okay, today’s passage speaks for itself. I honestly don’t know what I could possibly add to it, except to say that it speaks to my current situation as if it was addressed directly to me.

It reminded me that I’m on the right track. The power of God has always been held in breakable containers for the very reason that Paul says— so it will be obvious that any great ability or power that exceeds the dimensions of this humble, brittle jar must come from God and not from me.

I’m in a situation now in which all of Paul’s adjectives apply: I have troubles. I’m perplexed; persecuted; knocked down. But not crushed or in despair; not abandoned; not destroyed.

I have no choice but to carry in my body the dying of Yeshua and nothing can stop the life of Yeshua being embodied in me, because that’s how it works.  No death— no resurrection. No resurrection— no death.

I am being constantly encouraged to return to my understanding of time and eternity. Christ’s death and resurrection are one simple event— Love doing what love does. That love inhabits me as I inhabit it, whether I notice it or not. That love also inhabits everyone and everything in exactly the same way, and it is what interconnects everyone and everything in the whole universe. It’s just a fact. It’s how things are. I don’t want to walk around oblivious of this love, like someone whose zipper’s open or whose shoe has toilet paper stuck to it, trailing behind and flipping around with every step.

I’m alive, so I’m always being handed over to death for Christ’s sake. (I was tempted to make that a complaint by adding a comma: “I’m always being handed over to death, for Christ’s sake!” I resisted the temptation. Mostly.)

The corollary is that Christ’s life is thereby manifested in my living body. I can’t have one without the other.

I thought I just heard God say, “So there!”

This fence is just too narrow to sit on.

I have to either fish or cut bait.

If I catch it, I clean it.

That is, if I’m going to go fishing at all.

I think I’d better get in the boat.


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