God-Improvement Projects - Jeremiah 18:1-11 & Luke 14:25-33

I invite you this morning to take stock of the self-improvement advice coming your way. Podcasts, self-help books, and social media algorithms are all working overtime on us. Jason and I keep a running list of the things we’re told to do as we get older—what we affectionately call the “All Roads Lead To” list. It practically writes itself: eat fewer carbs, practice good sleep hygiene, start journaling, do yoga. Recently, a friend told me she’s taken up birdwatching to reduce stress—also on the All Roads Lead To list. (Ragan, of course, was ahead of the curve on that one.) Given my age and gender, I’ve been told I should add long walks in a weighted vest to my fitness routine. I don’t own a weighted vest yet, but I can see it coming. Whatever your age, I’m sure there’s a list of best practices being suggested to you, too. It’s a lot to keep up with. And now we’ve added AI to the mix. Just last week, my spiritual director suggested I ask ChatGPT for prayer journal prompts. The next day, my Pilates instructor recommended using AI to build a weightlifting plan. Apparently, there are no limits anymore to our self-improvement lists.

For the most part, I think it’s a good thing that we live in such a self-improvement culture. It can help us shed some bad habits and live life more fully. But there’s a downside to this cultural obsession—we carry it right into church with us. It is easy to think of going to church much like how we think about going to the gym or any other good habit. For an hour a week, we come to work on our spiritual fitness. We hope to see certain benefits—more connection, more meaning, more comfort, more empathy. All good things, but woe to us if we think church is only or primarily for self-improvement. In many ways, the life of faith is just the opposite. It’s about being improved not by self, but by God.

Jeremiah had a vision about this that took him to a potter’s house. The potter was making a vessel, but the clay was spoiled. The potter reworked the clay into another vessel as seemed good to him. The word of the Lord came to Jeremiah and said, “Can I not do with you, O house of Israel, just as this potter has done? Just like the clay in the potter’s hand, so are you in my hand, O house of Israel.” It’s a stunning image. We are the human clay on a divine wheel, being made and remade into better vessels. God’s hands are literally shaping us. It’s a far cry from how we usually think about working on ourselves.

As was his custom, Jeremiah’s vision comes with a warning. God will dispense goodness or disaster, depending on whether we turn from our evil ways. Even then, there is a certain grace to be found here. When a potter messes up, there are usually two options - overlook the mistake and make do, or start over with a new piece of clay. God chooses a third option, fixing the clay God already has (Alfie Wines). God will not overlook unrighteousness, but God also won’t throw us off the wheel altogether. God starts over, reworking us once again.

For those of us who are not potters, it can be helpful to hear from one in order to dig more deeply into the metaphor. A potter was giving a clay demonstration at a state fair (Melissa Myers, Pulpit Fiction). She molded a beautiful vase on the spinning wheel and impressed the onlookers. Someone asked when it would be ready for sale. Never, she replied, and smashed it down, to the crowd’s disappointment. People dispersed, but one man stuck around to ask the potter why she did that. The potter explained that while the vessel might have looked nice, it was filled with imperfections that would crack in the kiln. She had to rework the clay, making it into the vessel it could be, given whatever mix of goodness and imperfections it had. “Sometimes,” she said, “you think you’re making a mug but the clay really wants to be a plate, or vice versa. You have to work with what you have, to make the clay into what it needs to be.” In Jeremiah’s vision, we find a God who won’t declare us finished just to let us crack under the weight of our imperfections when fired in a kiln of judgment. God will start again, reworking the clay into what we need to be. Our call is to let ourselves be reshaped.

There is perhaps, no better image for a kick-off Sunday. Today we celebrate the beginning of another year of formation at Christ Church, a year in which God will reshape us. Our days on the potter’s wheel together will be filled with prayer, music, service, study, conversation, joys and sorrows, construction, community building, sharing meals, and so much more. God will use it all to reshape this vessel.

Jesus has important words for us on this day as well. In Luke’s Gospel we find him addressing the crowd, asking if they are ready to go all in on following him. He says it will be costly - disciples will have to put following him above our own families, carry crosses, count costs, and give up possessions. From a marketing perspective, his speech is not an ideal strategy for church growth. And yet. His words are a reminder that what we find here, in him, is worth more than anything else that we can find, download, pay for, read, or give up on our own. What we find is the path that will transform us, so that we can transform the world around us.

If we trust that we will be changed here, then the potter has a much better shot at reshaping us—both as individuals and as a downtown faith community. That’s when we begin to see the deeper truth: we’re not just self-improvement projects, chasing the latest list of best practices. We are God-improvement projects, shaped by hands far wiser than our own.

So back to the potter’s wheel we go, as a new season begins. Jeremiah’s vision still holds: the potter is at work, eager to rework what is into what could be. And Jesus is still calling, inviting us to follow—not to perfect ourselves, but to be transformed. May we have the courage to say yes, and begin again.