By the Mercy of God

In the fall of 1975, a small group of people who published a magazine called the Post American and attempted to live together in community in Chicago moved to Washington, D.C., to make a new start. The group changed its name, as well as that of its magazine, to Sojourners. The following sermon was preached at Sojourners Community Church in November 1985, in celebration of the community's first 10 years in Washington, D.C. --The Editors

A few years ago, my father's company sent him to take a business course at Harvard University. Not surprisingly, he sent his grandsons, my nephews Michael and Nathan Tamialis, "Harvard" T-shirts. Michael and Nathan took one look at their shirts and became very excited. They exclaimed, "Wow! A T-shirt named after our Harvard Street!" To which Barb, their mother, replied, "No, no, there's a big university named Harvard." And they were even more impressed. They said, "A whole university named after Harvard Street!"

A home is the place from which you take your perspective. For Michael and Nathan, and for many of us, Columbia Heights in Washington, D.C, has become home.. Ten years now we have been here. The Tamialises were the first ones here, the first family of Sojourners Community. Michael was one year old and Nathan was three months old when they arrived here.

The scouting team, a few of us who had come earlier, had found two houses. But all we had time to do was find them--not clean them. That job was left to the Tamialis family. So, when they got to D.C, the houses were absolutely filthy. And my father, who was along for the trip, said, "Oh, let's go to a motel for the night."

But Barb, characteristically, stubbornly refused to go and, with babies in each arm, said, "This is our home. We're going to stay here." They scrubbed one room clean enough to live in for one night and the next day began on the other rooms. By the time the rest of us arrived--Joe Roos, Jackie and Bob Sabath, Ed Spivey, myself, and some others--we had two clean houses.

That was 10 years ago. Since that time we have become a community, a growing community of families, children, older people, and younger people. We are growing more all the time.

We live in a poor neighborhood of Harvard Street and other streets, where we are touching lives and being touched by the lives of our neighbors. Certainly living here has changed our perspective radically over the years, and on that changing we have just begun. And we have been given the blessing and the privilege to participate in a much wider and larger ministry to all the churches through Sojourners magazine, our peace ministry, and other aspects of our outreach.

But I find myself preoccupied with how very human we are--with all of our weaknesses, all of our failings, and all of our shortcomings. On one hand I feel very keenly the desire and the need to celebrate our life together as a community. Yet at the same time, I don't want us to pat ourselves on the back, saying all kinds of good things about who we are and what we've done.

As I wrestled with what to preach, I shared these feelings with a friend, a wise man who has given me a lot of good advice. He suggested this scripture from Corinthians, and I knew he was right. In this scripture is a word to us on the 10-year celebration of our time here in Washington, D.C.

THE SCRIPTURE SAYS, "Therefore, having this ministry by the mercy of God, we do not lose heart." We have this ministry by the mercy of God. If we have this ministry by our talents, our charisma, our wisdom, and our own righteousness, and not by the mercy of God, then we will certainly lose heart. But because we have this ministry by the mercy of God, we do not have to protect it, and we do not have to defend it. Most of all, we. do not have to make it succeed, because it is not ours. It doesn't belong to us. We have this ministry by the mercy of God. It is God's and not ours.

When we see this ministry, this community, this work, this life as ours, at that point we quickly begin to lose heart. But it belongs to God. Therefore, the apostle says, don't lose heart.

The scripture says, "We have renounced disgraceful, underhanded ways; we refuse to practice cunning." Do not tamper with God's word. Don't take it lightly, don't distort it, don't change it to fit your purposes. Rather, tell the truth, the apostle says. "By the open statement of truth, we would commend ourselves to everyone's conscience in the sight of God." Tell the truth.

Don't worry about the underhanded, cunning techniques that make this town run. Don't worry about needing to be clever to get your message across. Just be content to tell the truth and it will commend itself to all men and women of conscience in the sight of God.

Do we hope for a rise of Christian conscience that is more than the newest phrase? If we do, then we must be content to tell the truth, hoping that it will spark conscience.

This passage says, "Even if our gospel is veiled, it is veiled only to those who are perishing." If people can't understand what you're saying or don't recognize your ministry, says the apostle, don't worry about it. Don't worry about it, because there are many whose minds are blinded by the god of this world. So be content to tell the truth.

"For what we preach is not ourselves, but Jesus Christ as Lord." We must be so very careful not to preach ourselves, our projects, our community, and not even our visions and dreams. We must always preach Jesus Christ as Lord.

When we have preached ourselves during these 10 years, we have gone astray. We became weak, because we were offering something that was merely human. When we have preached Jesus as Lord, we have stayed on course, and we have been strong. We have relied not on our own strength but rather have trusted in the grace of God.

MY FRIEND PARTICULARLY had verse 7 in mind when he suggested this scripture, "But we have this treasure in earthen vessels to show that the transcendent power belongs to God and not to us." This scripture calls us to a joyful acceptance of ourselves as only earthen vessels. This scripture calls us to celebrate the power of the Spirit of God, which has worked mightily through earthen vessels such as us. This is not an occasion to celebrate our accomplishments; it is a day to show that power belongs to God.

Another translation of verse 7 uses the phrase "jars of clay." When we look into each other's faces, when we live and work with each other, and when we share community with each other, how easy it is to see that we are but jars of clay. We are but earthen vessels. Yet how quickly we forget and take ourselves so seriously, seeing ourselves as the indispensable agents of God's activity in the world--the ones who must make things happen.

The point in this passage is that we must accept our humanity so that we can show forth the power of God. Sometimes we are infected by a corporate perfectionism. We want to wait until we are complete and balanced before we can celebrate. We want to pull together everything that has been divided in the church and in our lives. That's our goal and our vocation, we say. Someday we're going to do it, and what a celebration we're going to have to show that finally the vision has been accomplished and that we, by God, are the ones who did it!

This corporate perfectionism is a peculiar temptation of good people, of good people who want to be better. On one level that's all right because it keeps you on your toes. But on another level, brothers and sisters, it is sin. To wait until we are complete and balanced, to wait until our visions and dreams are fulfilled before we can celebrate forgets the whole point that we are earthen vessels in whom God has placed a treasure so that the power of God might be shown in our very frail lives. Beware of corporate perfectionism.

WE CELEBRATE TODAY God's activity through us much more than we celebrate our own activity. We celebrate today the marvelous work that the Spirit of God has wrought in us and through us, which, as amazing as it may seem, has touched the lives of more people than we can even imagine.

But we are not here to celebrate the genius of our strategy and our insights. We celebrate the fact that God has not yet finished with us, that much of God's work among us is still very incomplete. And we celebrate today the fact that God's Spirit waits eagerly for us to be ever more open vessels through which the power of God can work far beyond what we can see now or imagine.

So much has happened in 10 years in Washington, D.C., and we celebrate that today. But there is so much more that is waiting to happen and that is going to happen by the grace and through the power of God. We celebrate that today as well. Through a little group of people, a whole new hope has been spread abroad, and around that hope many have been brought together and have been inspired to faith and action. But we remain such earthen vessels and still such a little group of people.

Our dream of a community of faith that would unite middle-class people and poor people--not just white people, but black people and Hispanic people--has yet to happen among us. The barriers of race and class and sex are formidable, more than we thought at the beginning. Sometimes they seem insurmountable to us because we are far too white and far too middle class.

I still believe the gospel can break down the barriers of race and class and sex, but we will have to give that gospel much more free play in our lives, much more room in our lives and in our community if we want to be a community of faith with the full participation of all of God's people, black and white, middle class and poor, men and women.

If it were just our work, if it were just our ministry and our dream to be such a community of people, then I don't believe we could do it. There might have been a time when I believed we could, but that time for me is past. If this ministry belongs to us, if it is ours to own and to control, and if it depends on our gifts and wisdom, we will not be able to be that kind of community. But because this ministry comes by the mercy of God, there is great possibility for our coming to completion.

It is indeed a treasure that we have in these earthen vessels. The faith that is here among us is a treasure, and I believe God would have us treasure it. The love that is between us in this room is a treasure, and I believe God would have us treasure it. All of our families, our single people, our children are great treasures, and I believe God would have us treasure them. The work that we have been given to do is a treasure that I believe God would have us treasure. And the hope that gets spread abroad from that work is a great treasure that God would have us treasure. We should regard all of these things--all of our lives--as gifts of God, as treasures that have been miraculously placed in earthen vessels.

NOW, LOOKING BACK at Corinthians, we see that Paul really begins to preach. He describes what, I think, has.been our life and is becoming our experience. I read this scripture as a prediction of the future.

Because the power belongs to God and not to us, he says, "We are afflicted in every way, but not crushed." To stand with the afflicted means that we will be afflicted. To stand with each other in our affliction means that we will be afflicted. To open our lives up to suffering--whether it be in each other, or in our neighborhood, or in places that are far away but have become so close to our hearts, such as South Africa, Central America, and the Philippines--means to be afflicted. And the temptation is always to be crushed.

But here is the promise: If we open ourselves up to the pain, the poverty, and the suffering in the lives of our brothers and our sisters, we will not be crushed by it.

"We are afflicted in every way, but not crushed; perplexed, but not driven to despair." Perplexed means to be confused--that comes very close to home for me.

I was having dinner the other night with a friend, and I was sharing a whole load of my perplexity, my confusion. We asked each other, "How is it going to happen? How are we going to be the kind of community we dream of? How can it ever happen?" I said to him, "I really don't know." We are perplexed but, according to scripture, not driven to despair.

You will be "persecuted, but not forsaken," says Paul. We seem to be under a great deal of surveillance these days. And it seems that we are now almost continually under attack from the Right. To me it is all very sobering. I feel apprehension not knowing what it will all mean for me and for us, for the people I love so much.

But the promise is that we will not be forsaken. They may call you names, they may vilify you, they may spy on you, they may violate the privacy of your life and family, but you will not be forsaken. They may put you in jail--and I know that in the next 10 years more of us will spend much more time in jail than we have before. They may do even worse. We all need to know that. It is a guaranteed part of our future, but we will not be forsaken. That's the promise.

"Struck down, but not destroyed." Struck down, beaten back, and defeated. How many times do we feel like that, like we keep losing over and over again? Keep trying, one more great idea or project--this time we'll break through, no, next time, no, next time.

Struck down, but never destroyed, which means you always get up. It doesn't mean you won't be struck down again; it just says that you'll be able to stand back up. You'll be beaten down but God will help you get up again.

"Always carrying in the body the death of Jesus, so that the life of Jesus may also be manifested in our bodies." While we live, we are always being given up to death for Jesus' sake, so that the life of Jesus might be manifested in our mortal flesh. "So death is at work in us, but life in you." We will understand that scripture better and better in these coming years.

Allan Boesak, Beyers Naude, and Winnie Mandela were the recipients of the second annual Robert F. Kennedy Human Rights Award in November 1985. Boesak, who had just been released from prison and now faces charges and a trial that may result in a long jail term, wasn't allowed out of the country to attend the ceremony. Mandela, who is the most powerful black woman in South Africa, and whose husband, Nelson, refuses to make any deals for his freedom from prison, was also not able to attend. Beyers Naude, who suffered under his country's banning order for seven years, was able to accept the award in person.

These South African leaders carry in their bodies the death that's being talked about in this passage. They are constantly giving themselves over to death. But it was so clear during the award ceremony in that auditorium full of people that these leaders show forth life. It filled all of our hearts with hope and courage and confidence. Carrying the death brings forth the life.

Brothers and sisters, in the last 10 years this very fear of death has been at work in us. There's a lot of dying to old things and old ways, dying to things we thought would be part of our lives, dying to success, visions, and dreams that we were raised to live by. Yet out of that has come a lot of living, a lot of life. We have experienced death in us, and because of that, there is life in others. And death in others has brought life to us. That's the pattern. That's the meaning of the scriptures, although we don't yet understand all that it means. I'm convinced that we will understand better in the next 10 years.

We must always be given up to death for Jesus' sake, so that the life of Jesus will be manifested in our mortal flesh. If death will be at work in us, so life also is in us. We have this treasure in earthen vessels, let us treasure it. Do not be afraid of being earthen vessels, rather let's treasure the gift that God has given so that we might show that the transcendent power belongs to God and not to us.

Thomas Dorsey, the man who wrote the song we sang this morning, knew that deeply, because the words to the song express the whole meaning of this passage:

Precious Lord, take my hand, lead me on, help me stand, 'Cause I'm tired, I'm weak, and I'm worn. Through the storm, through the night, lead me on to the light; Take my hand, precious Lord, lead me home.

Jim Wallis is editor-in-chief of Sojourners.