The first pastor I remember knowing was at the church I started attending as a teenager. Pastor Mike was very down to earth. He drove a beat up old car that I remember him having to push start on more than one occasion. When I was 13 or 14, I heard a story about how he was frustrated with ministry one week because he bought diapers for a young woman who came to the church asking for help. After the encounter, he walked out of the store and decided to go back to buy formula as well. When he did, he witnessed her returning the diapers for cash. I guess he was crushed because he thought he was helping a single mother and her baby, only to find out she was probably scamming him. I remember Pastor Mike was a terrible singer, but that he was exuberant when he sang every Sunday morning. I especially remember him as the guy who taught me catechism. He took the time to explain things, put up with a goofy room full of kids, and answer questions even if they were absurd. I looked up to that pastor. He wasn’t some weird, holy man who walked on water. He was normal and a friend to my family and me. He got frustrated and discouraged sometimes. He lost his temper once or twice that I remember. He was human, but he acted like Jesus. In a lot of ways, he was what I want to be as a pastor and what I think a lot of believers should be. It’s easy to pretend to be perfect and to make other folks think that you are some other worldly religious figure. The problem is that when I read about Jesus, I don’t see him that way. He was certainly brilliant and fiery. He answered questions in ways that pushed people to deal with God in real ways. Also, he told jokes in some of his teachings. He was holy, too. But he was holy in a real way that the “religious people” of his era couldn’t deal with. He was God made flesh, and he met with prostitutes and thieves face to face. He had conversations and meals with them where he called them to new life, but did so in a loving way. The religious folks of his time couldn’t go near the wrong people for fear that guilt by association would get them in trouble. Pastor Mike looked like that to me as a kid. I didn’t know or understand Jesus then, but I think the first glimpse I got of him (that I remember clearly) in the church was through that guy and many of the people who were in the congregation. I am probably a lot louder and goofier than Pastor Mike. I am certain that I fall short of Jesus’ standard in every other area. I need grace from my family, friends, and neighbors because I often mess up. That’s ok, though, because if I was holy and perfect on my own, I wouldn’t need God to save me from my sins. I think this is a huge deal for Christians to understand. Paul called followers of Jesus “cracked clay pots filled with treasure.” We aren’t perfect or worthy, but we carry something that is perfect inside us. Through the cracks and imperfections, you can see the glory of God shine through. When I pretend to be perfect, you can only see my own gaudy glory. Where I am imperfect and own it AND God does cool stuff through me anyway, it is obvious that He is amazing. I want to encourage my believing brothers and sisters to this: folks don’t need perfect plastic Christians. They need treasure that comes in our cracked pots.
