The Mud Man

[Shylynne]

Isn't it amazing how you can so deeply mean what you say one moment, and then have things turn out so very differently? I think of a chaplain who was once visiting through a large metropolitan hospital when he came upon a man with a hollow look of desperation that made the clergyman stop. As he talked with the patient, he noticed the bandages wrapped around the man's wrists. It seems that the man had had an affair which, when discovered by his wife, prompted her to leave him. A month later, the man's mistress also departed. She said she was never interested in more than a casual connection. This sudden reversal of fortunes so devastated the guy that he attempted to take his own life. The Chaplain spent nearly an hour by the bedside. His listening presence seemed to help the patient so visibly that the Chaplain happily promised to return the next day and visit with him again. The next day came and went with the Chaplain so swamped by work that he simply forgot to return and see the haunted man. As he sat at breakfast the day after that, the Chaplain's eye fell upon an article on the front page of the morning news. The paper reported that last night, one Joseph Miller—just released from hospital—had gone to his ex-mistress' apartment, broken in, stabbed the woman six times, and then killed himself. The feelings of grief and guilt that ran through the Chaplain's mind were overwhelming. Why hadn't he kept his promise to return? Why bother even being in the ministry if you can't recognize a real priority when you see it? I know how the chaplain felt because the chaplain was me. I was the one who failed the test when doing otherwise might have counted most. There is a painting that depicts the Apostle Peter at a moment of accountability something like that. In the portrait, Peter is leaning with his back against a wall, outside the courtyard of the building where Christ is being tried. It has only been a day or two since Peter boldly proclaimed his undying allegiance to Jesus. "Even if all fall away on account of you, I never will," said Peter to his Master. "Even if I have to die with you, I will never disown you," said the Rock unto the Lord. But now, just hours later, Peter has failed to make good on his word—not just once, but three times. The artist brilliantly captures the state of the man. The fisherman’s head is cast down. His shoulders are hunched. His hands are raised to hide his identity or cover his bitter weeping—maybe both. But what I remember most about the painting are the apostle’s feet. Peter is standing up to his ankles in mud. I don’t know whether the painter wanted us to think that rain had come to add to the dismal darkness of that night; or whether, perhaps, it was the sheer volume of Peter's tears that formed the muck around his feet. But that simple detail makes one thing poetically clear: Peter, the Rock, had proven to be made of softer stuff. But, then, aren't we all? We fail, you and I. At our best moments we make great promises, with every good intention of delivering what we've pledged; but we fail. Maybe the marriage goes from better to worse, and we can't hold it together any longer. The family is counting on us, and we can't manage to keep the money coming in like we hoped to. A friend trusts us with a confidence, and in a moment of thoughtlessness we share it with someone else. We drop the ball with our kids. We grieve the parents who gave us life. Other pressures crowd in, and we deny the commitments we once made to the Lord, to our loved ones, or even to ourselves. One day the cock crows on our lives too, and suddenly we see what we've done or failed to do. We know we've had a hand in killing Christ—or his image in ourselves or others. And we know our name is mud.

cont`d...

[Shylynne]

Were betrayals like that the final word about us, I suppose we’d have little reason not to kill ourselves or weep away the night. But God has the last word in this Universe of ours, so it doesn’t have to be that way.
 There's something about failure that's pretty hard to face up to at times. Some of us will twist things around almost any way we can to avoid seeing the truth. And what a shame that is; because every time we avoid responsibility for our failure to live up to the promises we've made, we not only usually hurt someone else, we almost always cheat ourselves. Do you remember how Jesus once rubbed mud into a man's eyes to help him see? It's almost as if Christ was saying to him and to us, that sometimes we must study the dirt very closely before we'll ever see the light. Charles Cummings says that: "The immediate supernatural usefulness of [our failure] is to teach us how poor, vulnerable, needy, naked and fragile we really are...Without [such] suffering we would go on living in the complacent illusion of having kept it all together through skillful management and superior preparation. The hurt that shatters that illusion is useful because it collapses the house of cards our ego has painstakingly erected and carefully held in balance. The shock [of failure] is enough to bring the whole structure down on our head and leave us exposed to the sun, the rain, and the wind." It is frightening to be exposed to the elements of accountability like that. "How can I ever face the others," Peter must have moaned as he stood outside that courtyard. "My God, what a blowhard I am!" But then ONE of the funny things about mud is that it can help us to recover our sight—to see ourselves for who we really are: a sinner in need of grace. I’ve got this theory that the church was really born not on the triumphant day of Pentecost when Peter and the rest of the disciples realized their spiritual gifts, but on that dismal day when pompous Peter and the others failed our Lord, and finally and fully realized their need of a savior. Have you made that realization? We live amidst a society where it is fashionable to cover blemishes with make-up, to disguise real losses with creative accounting, deal with errors of judgment by spin-doctoring, to feign self-assurance when really you are struggling. But we need to be people who stand for something else. We need to be people with feet of clay who aren't afraid to admit it. That's why we begin each service of worship with a prayer of confession. It reminds us and witnesses to the world that the church is not a pristine company of saints, but an intimate fellowship of sinners. We are united in our public confession that we have a long way to go, but also a savior who makes the journey possible.

cont`d...

[Shylynne]

Which brings us to a SECOND funny thing about mud: more often than not, it's where we meet our God most fully. John Taylor puts it this way: "It is worth remembering that the root of the words humiliation and humility is humus"—which is, of course, simply a more polite word for fertilizer. The plain truth is, "we meet God more often in the manure of failure than on the mountain of success." And isn't that true? How many of us can point to the last time we redecorated the house or won a big business deal as one of our closest moments with the Creator of the Universe? How many great moments of personal growth have you really experienced while sipping champagne? Go ahead and raise your hand if you feel that the richest spiritual experience you've had in recent years was the last pay increase you received? Now consider the reverse. How many of us, I wonder, have felt God's transforming touch most powerfully when we were up to our armpits in mud: when your home life went to pieces… when you faced up to a terrible moral failure in your life… when all the material comforts and recreational pleasures you could acquire somehow failed to make your kids little saints, or fill you with abiding peace… and you found yourself met by a God who accepted you in your brokenness and surrounded you with people who cared; who gave you forgiveness for your past, help for today, and hope for tomorrow. God meets us in the mud. It's not because he can't be found on the mountaintop too, for he can be. Maybe it's just that when we're down in the dirt we are far more likely to notice our company than when we're on top of the hill admiring our view. And it's establishing a companionship with you that Jesus wants most. That's why Jesus spent so much time mucking about with whores and working-class bums, sick people, and misfits. They had time for him. They knew their lives needed changing. Do we?

cont`d...

[Shylynne]

If the answer to those questions is "yes," then there may be a THIRD and final thing about mud that may just interest you. In his novel, Christ Recrucified, Nikos Kazantzakis paints a scene in which four villagers confess their sins to one another before a priest. One of the men, Michelis by name, cries out: "How can God let us live on the earth? Why doesn't He kill us to purify creation?" And the clergyman answers, "Because, Michelis, God is a potter; He works in mud." Please believe that. Don't think that your failures and apparent limitations are the last word about you. Don't give in to the popular lie that human nature is what it is and people never really change; for history shows otherwise. Do you know there is a legend that every time the Apostle Peter preached after that fateful night of failure, some heckler in the crowd would crow like a rooster. They intended to remind him that as far as perfect faithfulness goes his name was mud. But that taunt became a testimony to the God who loves to work with clay. The record shows that under the fire and pressure of the Spirit, the "man of mud" ultimately became the Rock of the early church. Capturing the truth behind this amazing transformation and so many others through history, theologian Reinhold Niebuhr once said this: "The Gospel of Jesus is not a gospel of obvious success, but of ultimate success through obvious failures." So let me ask you this: What is the obvious failure in your life that you will give to the Lord's shaping hand this week? Is there a vice you know that you should abandon? Is there a past sin that's been a secret burden to you but you've never confessed? Is there some important task you've despaired of ever completing? Is there a troubled relationship you've run away from? Is there some part of your Christian witness you've neglected for years? Is there a parent or child you've let down and need to return to? Whatever it is, don't give up now. Even if the rooster has crowed the word "failure" a thousand times across the muck and mire of your life, then refuse to despair! For God is the master craftsman of ultimate success. And I’ll tell you the most amazing thing of all about mud: It’s what disciples are made of.

taken from - http://www.cc-ob.org/sermons/1998/0398b.htm

[sincereheart]

WOW! Some good stuff in there!  

That's why Jesus spent so much time mucking about with whores and working-class bums, sick people, and misfits. They had time for him. They knew their lives needed changing. Do we?

We live amidst a society where it is fashionable to cover blemishes with make-up, to disguise real losses with creative accounting, deal with errors of judgment by spin-doctoring, to feign self-assurance when really you are struggling. But we need to be people who stand for something else.

[Shylynne]

I think this is one of the greatest sermons I`ve ever read, and I have you to thank!  I read where you wrote your name is "mud" in the about you thread, and typed "Lord my name is mud" into google lol.  
"God meets us in the mud" and to that I for one can say AMEN!

[Shylynne]

In a world where power, prestige, and “feeling good” dominate our motives, how can we expect to see value or victory in humility, fragility, and brokenness? Writing to the Corinthians, the apostle Paul attempts to answer this timeless question by relating how the very light of Christ is set within the hearts of weak, frail men and women. And Paul is inspired by the Holy Spirit with the perfect image to get his point across: jars of clay.

Power in Weakness

    He explains, “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” (2 Corinthians 4:7-9 niv)

    The people of that day had basically two types of storage containers. The superior kind was made of bronze; this was where they put things they wanted to protect. The other type was fragile clay jars. These were cheap, easily broken, and essentially disposable.

    It was into these fragile vessels that God poured His “all surpassing power.” Paul notes in verse 6 of the same chapter, “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.”

    Paul is talking about the very power of God, who created light out of darkness, who fashioned all that exists out of nothing at all, who sent Jesus Christ into the world for the salvation of mankind, and who enabled each of us to encounter Him in a personal, compelling way. How difficult it is to explain why all that power was poured into the most fragile, breakable container imaginable: humanity.

    That we can be useful in ministry, that the Gospel has been spread by men and women, that we can read and understand the Word of God—these facts all point to the power of God within us and not to any ability of our own.

cont`d...

[Shylynne]

Cracking Under Pressure

    To prove his point, Paul lists some dangers facing jars of clay and then explains how God’s power overcomes the obstacles. First, he says that we’re “hard pressed but not crushed.” (verse 8a) This refers to the outside pressures that we face. Just as a strong man can squeeze a clay pot until it breaks, the pressures of life build up and squeeze us almost to the breaking point. The power of God—our treasure here—is that no matter how severe the pressure, our burdens cannot crush the life from us, nor break us beyond God’s ability to heal.

    The second danger he notes is being “perplexed, but not in despair.” (verse 8b) This shows that it is normal for us to feel the strain of our burdens. We’re not superhuman. Life hurts, and it is okay to admit that. However, we can do so without fearing that our worries have the capability of crushing our spirits.

    The third thing Paul mentions is that we are “persecuted, but not abandoned.” (verse 9a) Paul’s audience would have known what he meant by persecution. He himself had participated in hunting down Christians and having them killed. But despite the persecutions, the power of God remains inside the vessel. It can never be taken away, and it will never leave us. (Hebrews 13:5)

    Fourth, Paul says that we are “struck down, but not destroyed.” (verse 9b) In its context, this was most likely a reference taken from Roman wrestling competitions. For a wrestler to be thrown down on the floor, it was considered a setback, but not an automatic defeat. It may hurt, and sometimes we may not want to get up. But Paul is saying that when life does throw us down, we have access to the power that can lift us back to our feet.

cont`d...

[Shylynne]

Trouble is Coming

    An often shocking realization for new believers is that faith in Jesus Christ will not spare us from the world’s slings and arrows. These include peer pressure, the temptation to sin, and the odd looks and cruel comments directed at us simply because we dare to take a stand for Christ.

    The Lord Himself knew about the severity and painfulness of these attacks and warned that in the world we will face trouble. (John 16:33) Paul knew it, too. We will be pressed by the world; we will be persecuted; we will be perplexed; we will be struck down. These attacks do not mean our faith is weak. In fact, Scripture assures us we will not be tempted or pressured beyond what we are able to bear. (1 Corinthians 10:13) Therefore, a time of intense pressure in our life may actually be a testimony to the strength of our faith.

cont`d...

[Shylynne]

“Just As I Am”

    Too many people think that they can’t come to Jesus until they clean up their act. This is completely unscriptural. Surprisingly, seven out of ten Christians believe that the Bible contains the well-known line, “God helps those who help themselves.” It doesn’t.

    The truth of the matter is that the Bible teaches quite the opposite. Jesus does not say, “Pull yourself together and come to Me.” Instead, He calls, “Come to Me,
all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest.” (Matt. 11:28 niv)

    Something terrible happens when we try to put our broken lives back together on our own: we arrange the pieces in such a way as to make our lives into what we think they should be. And we do this forgetting that this may have been the very cause of our brokenness to begin with.

cont`d...

[Shylynne]

What Does God Want from Us?

    People often try to hide their broken pieces from God. This is a tragic error. God does not expect us to be perfect; He knows that we cannot do it. Therefore, we must not hide our brokenness from Him, the holy One who can restore us wholly.

    Do you want to bring God a pleasing sacrifice? What do you think He wants? Don’t bring Him your good deeds. Don’t bring Him the best you can offer. Don’t bring Him your Bible study or your memory verses. Bring Him your pieces. “The sacrifices of God are a broken spirit; a broken and contrite heart, O God, You will not despise” (Psalm 51:17).

    Show Him that you trust Him to re-form you. The result will be what God promised us through Paul in 2 Corinthians 4:17: that our broken pieces will achieve for us an eternal glory that far outweighs our brokenness. You see, your brokenness is not destroying you. In God’s hands, your brokenness is what is preparing and equipping you for an “eternal glory,” available only through Jesus Christ.

    God simply wants you to bring Him your pieces. There is an unbelievable freedom when you come to the Cross so broken, so beaten, so completely crushed that you know beyond a doubt that you can’t fix yourself. At that point, more than any other time in life, you find yourself face down at the foot of the Cross saying, God, I just can’t do it. I can’t fix this. Please do this for me.
If you can’t get your pieces back together, maybe it is time for you to stop trying so hard to do it for yourself. God’s hands are more than big enough to hold all the shattered pieces of your broken life.

—Allen Harris
Copyright © 2004 IN TOUCH MINISTRIES

[Shylynne]

[Jemidon2004]

Very nice posts Shylynne. I am enjoying them. Keep up the good work.

Joshua

[Shylynne]

God Bless Joshua