Broken Open Jar

For God, who said, "Let light shine out of darkness," made his light shine in our hearts to give us the light of the knowledge of the glory of God in the face of Christ. But we have this treasure in jars of clay to show that this all-surpassing power is from God and not from us. We are hard pressed on every side, but not crushed; perplexed, but not in despair; persecuted, but not abandoned; struck down, but not destroyed. We always carry around in our body the death of Jesus, so that the life of Jesus may also be revealed in our body. For we who are alive are always being given over to death for Jesus' sake, so that his life may be revealed in our mortal body.

So, it's been almost 5 weeks? More than? I haven't had a chance to blog about surviving vs. living (see previous blog). In this case, it has nothing to do with not thinking a lot about it. For some reason, tonight, God has really put this passage on my heart.

I got this image on Sunday of a broken open jar. The jar was made of some kind of ceramic and seemed very fragile. It wasn't shattered to tiny pieces, but was broken beyond real repair--maybe three big pieces and several small ones. Each piece lay outwards from the center, as if the jar broke from the inside out. Hovering slightly above the center of this broken open jar was a light shining brightly. Intensely. The whole sight was... beautiful.

That image was an answer from God. He was pointing me to what it means to live... what life is really about. That image led me to this passage. I had already been thinking a lot about how Paul talks about "to lose your life is to gain" and how Jesus repeatedly talked about the paradoxical idea of "to gain your life, you must lose it."

Living, and not just surviving, then is ironically about dying. This isn't revolutionary. I've known it for a long time. The question is what does this mean--what does this feel like.

Tonight, I had a very real experience of this so-called 'life'. I was verbally abused, disrespected, and, in some sense, persecuted because of certain moral beliefs in doing what's right--in choosing the moral path. At that moment, I had a chance to lash out, or to talk back. I could have brought up powerful counter arguments and proven my point. I could have been petty and just left or even struck back in a powerful way. But instead, I took it. I remained silent. I accepted the beating out of love for those who were abusing me.

It was one of the worst experiences in my life. Afterward, I was so distraught. I couldn't speak to anyone . There were no words to express what I was feeling; I think I was dumbstruck to really understand what I felt my heart go through. All I could do was busy myself, stop listening to the words of others, and try to move on. To be honest, everything in me just wanted to run--to run far far away from all those who had hurt me.

I guess that's why I'm here, writing. I suppose God really knows how to get me to reflect (I've been putting it off for way too long). This is... life? Is this what it feels like to be given over to death for Jesus' sake?

God, I cry out to you. I hope that your life was revealed in that instance. I hope that your love was displayed. They don't get it, Lord. I know they don't. Help me continue to trust in you--to trust that this life that you have given me, this life of being a broken open jar, is indeed... beautiful.