Jars of Clay and Fluffy Towels

"But we have this treasure in earthen vessels, 
that the surpassing greatness of the power may be of God and not from ourselves;"

Jars of clay.
That's how other versions translate "earthen vessels". I love the way it sounds.
Jars of clay.
I picture them, brown and earthy looking, made of dirt, fragile, common, expendable.
Not much excitement over them, unless of course they are found in an archaeological dig. But that is unlikely to have been what Paul was thinking when he wrote these words.

The jar of clay is NOT the treasure, but rather the treasure is inside the jar of clay. What does that mean? It means that God is our source of the greatest, most incredible, limitless power there is and we are, well, (gulp) weak.
My flesh is the jar of clay, and when I say flesh, I mean everything about me that is apart from Christ.
How much is clay worth?
How much should I consider myself to be worth?
Is the amount of time I've spent focused on making life better for this jar of clay equal to its worth?

Oh, boy, have I made the worst investment ever!
This "jar of clay" has pretty much always been my first priority. How's it going to affect me? Am I going to like it? Is that the best for me? Will it be fun? Will it make me happy? Will it be enough?

The realization of the extent of prioritizing Amy.
It came to a climax in one ridiculously stupid event.
On this particular day, we were crossing the border into Mexico at Ciudad Juarez. Crossing the border was normally a very nerve-racking experience for me, especially this time because I was unfamiliar with the city. My tension kept rising, and by the time we got to the hotel for the night, I was deep into the "pamper Amy" zone, the land where Amy's needs came first, where anxiety was balanced with self-delighting.
Now, here is where it got stupid.
Amy silently claimed the fluffiest looking towel in the bathroom for herself. She didn't tell anyone, just sub-consciously labeled it hers. After having a difficult day, she felt entitled to some comforts. So when her daughter randomly used Amy's towel, the filth of selfishness vomited out of her mouth. She didn't realize why she was angry or even how selfish her actions were. She just felt like having that fluffy towel taken away was the end of the world.
I can look back now and say "unbelievable!" It wasn't really all about a fluffy towel, but what it represented, the inclination to give myself more value than a jar of clay is worth. I inflate my importance, and then, when I am taken advantage of, I get angry. Instead of groaning because I long to be in heaven and rid of this body, I groan because my body feels a little pinch of discomfort. I live under the impression that I have a right to be happy, am entitled to more, deserve better treatment.
Reality check.
Jars of clay are not placed in silk lined boxes, they're not given the "fluffy towel" treatment.
Anyway, fluffy towels are just an illusion, not worth the hype. All I've ever gotten from making myself a priority is a life full of misery and fear.

Paul would have us live differently. He tells us we have this treasure in jars of clay and that truth changes everything! Because...
"we are afflicted in every way, but not crushed; 
perplexed, but not despairing; 
persecuted, but not forsaken;
struck down, but not destroyed;  
How is it that affliction can attack from all sides, but I am never crushed? How is it possible to be plagued by severe doubt, but I do not despair? How can persecution not leave me feeling forsaken, abandoned by God? How can I know that I won't be destroyed no matter how hard I am beaten?
This jar of clay has no value apart from Christ. I am both a dead and a dying man made alive only by the treasure of the light of the gospel of the glory of Christ in me. That treasure cannot be crushed, it cannot be destroyed, and that's the only thing that matters. What happens to this jar shouldn't make any difference.

"always carrying about in the body the dying of Jesus, that the life of Jesus also may be manifested in our body. For we who live are constantly being delivered over to death for Jesus's sake, that the life of Jesus also may be manifested in our mortal flesh." *

I can't explain it, can't understand it, I can't even grasp it; I only know that there is nothing more true than this fact, two completely opposite realities co-exist in me, both the dying and living of Jesus at the same time. That should radically change the way I live. For Jesus's sake, for His purpose, for His glory, for His name, I live in order to be constantly handed over for death, constantly ready to die. I carry in this body the dying of Jesus, so that His life will be seen in me. I live to die so that the real living is Jesus in me.
That's the truth that I see in Paul's life.
That's the foundation of crosswalking.
That's the treasure worth living for.

Is it worth dying for?

* 2 Corinthians 4:7-11