“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 also be revealed in our mortal body. So then, death is at work in us, but life is at work in you.”
— 2 Corinthians 4:7-12

Ours is a culture that values control. We love a story of a “self-made man”, of an empire built from nothing. We embrace the notion that our destinies are ours to shape, valorize the “rise and grind” mindset, and look down on those we assume aren’t working hard enough. “Take command of your life,” we say. “Pull yourself up by your bootstraps!”

But deep down, under the bravado, we know this image of control is an illusion. We are not powerless; our actions and decisions are not meaningless. But no matter how we plan, and work, and will, there will always be forces beyond us. Things that no amount of self-determination, positive thinking, or manifestation can prevent—illness, natural disaster, random accident. It’s uncomfortable to accept; if we admit that there are aspects of our lives we cannot dictate, we must reckon with the truth that such pains and griefs cannot be universally avoided.

Sometimes, the forces outside of our control seem to overwhelm us. Suffering and uncertainty beat down on us from all sides like a tempest. From within the eye of the storm, it can be impossible to envision the outside. Destruction seems imminent and inescapable. For Jesus and the disciples, Good Friday was just this type of storm. As he stares down the barrel of a deluge of suffering in the form of arrest and crucifixion, Jesus declares, “My soul is overwhelmed with sorrow to the point of death” (Matthew 26:38). In the hours to come, Jesus will be beaten, wrongly convicted, abandoned and denied; the skies will literally turn preternaturally dark (Matthew 27:45).

But as the old adage goes, the night is darkest just before the dawn.

For, despite how it may appear, sorrow will not have the final say. “We are hard pressed on every side, but not crushed; perplexed, but not in despair; persecuted, but not abandoned; struck down, but not destroyed.” Just as thunder and downpour give way to sunny skies and rainbows, Good Friday turns to Easter.

In his second letter to the Corinthians, Paul speaks of “jars of clay,” drawing on imagery used in Isaiah—“Yet you, Lord, are our Father. We are the clay, you are the potter; we are all the work of your hand” (Isaiah 64:8). Like clay jars, we are fragile creations made by a wise and skilled Creator. When chipped or cracked, a jar of clay cannot repair itself, but the Potter can. Trouble and distress cannot be evaded by our sheer force of will, but neither is the burden of restoration on our backs. Our good and loving God is at work—even in the darkness, even in the storm. Acknowledging our own limitations and powerlessness allows us to embrace the guidance and care of our Creator. It is a posture modeled by Jesus in the garden of Gethsemane when his soul was overwhelmed by sorrow: “Going a little farther, he fell with his face to the ground and prayed, ‘My Father, if it is possible, may this cup be taken from me. Yet not as I will, but as you will’” (Matthew 26:39).

We crave control because we equate it with safety and security. But in actuality, we are never more safe and stable than when we rely on our God. The God who demonstrates on Good Friday that the limits of his compassion and mercy know no bounds. As we walk through this day, may we lean on Jesus, confident that no matter what lies ahead God will bring us through into something beautiful. Amen.

Words: Emma Tweitmann
Images: Lucie Morel, Priscilla Du Preez, Nic Brown

“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 also be revealed in our mortal body. So then, death is at work in us, but life is at work in you.”
— 2 Corinthians 4:7-12

Ours is a culture that values control. We love a story of a “self-made man”, of an empire built from nothing. We embrace the notion that our destinies are ours to shape, valorize the “rise and grind” mindset, and look down on those we assume aren’t working hard enough. “Take command of your life,” we say. “Pull yourself up by your bootstraps!”

But deep down, under the bravado, we know this image of control is an illusion. We are not powerless; our actions and decisions are not meaningless. But no matter how we plan, and work, and will, there will always be forces beyond us. Things that no amount of self-determination, positive thinking, or manifestation can prevent—illness, natural disaster, random accident. It’s uncomfortable to accept; if we admit that there are aspects of our lives we cannot dictate, we must reckon with the truth that such pains and griefs cannot be universally avoided.

Sometimes, the forces outside of our control seem to overwhelm us. Suffering and uncertainty beat down on us from all sides like a tempest. From within the eye of the storm, it can be impossible to envision the outside. Destruction seems imminent and inescapable. For Jesus and the disciples, Good Friday was just this type of storm. As he stares down the barrel of a deluge of suffering in the form of arrest and crucifixion, Jesus declares, “My soul is overwhelmed with sorrow to the point of death” (Matthew 26:38). In the hours to come, Jesus will be beaten, wrongly convicted, abandoned and denied; the skies will literally turn preternaturally dark (Matthew 27:45).

But as the old adage goes, the night is darkest just before the dawn.

For, despite how it may appear, sorrow will not have the final say. “We are hard pressed on every side, but not crushed; perplexed, but not in despair; persecuted, but not abandoned; struck down, but not destroyed.” Just as thunder and downpour give way to sunny skies and rainbows, Good Friday turns to Easter.

In his second letter to the Corinthians, Paul speaks of “jars of clay,” drawing on imagery used in Isaiah—“Yet you, Lord, are our Father. We are the clay, you are the potter; we are all the work of your hand” (Isaiah 64:8). Like clay jars, we are fragile creations made by a wise and skilled Creator. When chipped or cracked, a jar of clay cannot repair itself, but the Potter can. Trouble and distress cannot be evaded by our sheer force of will, but neither is the burden of restoration on our backs. Our good and loving God is at work—even in the darkness, even in the storm. Acknowledging our own limitations and powerlessness allows us to embrace the guidance and care of our Creator. It is a posture modeled by Jesus in the garden of Gethsemane when his soul was overwhelmed by sorrow: “Going a little farther, he fell with his face to the ground and prayed, ‘My Father, if it is possible, may this cup be taken from me. Yet not as I will, but as you will’” (Matthew 26:39).

We crave control because we equate it with safety and security. But in actuality, we are never more safe and stable than when we rely on our God. The God who demonstrates on Good Friday that the limits of his compassion and mercy know no bounds. As we walk through this day, may we lean on Jesus, confident that no matter what lies ahead God will bring us through into something beautiful. Amen.

Words: Emma Tweitmann
Images: Lucie Morel, Priscilla Du Preez, Nic Brown