In the New Testament, there is record of 12 Disciples of Jesus. They are all listed a few times and there are two dramatic calling stories.
The first is the calling of Simon Peter and his brother Andrew, who are fishermen. Struggling to catch fish for the day, Jesus calls us out them, “drop your nets, and I will make you fishers of men.” So, they do, and along the way Jesus picks up a few other fishermen, who impressed by the dedication Simon Peter and Andrew. They decide to follow long as well.
The other dramatic calling narrative is Matthew, sometimes called Levi. Matthew is a tax collector who leaves his tax business to join the itinerant preacher. This attracts the attention of the religious authorities who say, “Look , Jesus is eating with tax collectors and sinners?”
Often, the question comes up, why only 12? There are many theories out there, the most popular one being that it was somehow symbolic of the 12 tribes of Israel, connecting the Hebrew story with the Christian one. I have this idea, though, that may be neither historically or theologically accurate, that the reason for 12 disciples is because those 12 were the only ones who said yes. I get this image in my head of Jesus asking many to join his movement, perhaps 40, 50 or even 100, but only these 12 say yes. In a village full of people, there were only 12 willing to give their hearts, their livelihood and their time for this movement of the Messiah. If you look at their story, it is obvious that these 12 are not the sharpest of characters. They are not the best of the best. They are, to put in nicely, fairly dense. They are often confused; they often miss the point and seem to frequently not grasp the gravity of what Jesus is trying to communicate. This was not an interview process. They signed up, they were called, they were chosen and they said yes.
Here I Am, Lord. Send me, says Isaiah. He signs up.
If we are follow the story of Scripture, then the only prerequisite to be called by God is showing up, raising your hand, saying yes. “Here I Am, Lord, send me.”
It can’t be that easy, can it? Shouldn’t we be qualified, trained, commissioned, ordained, schooled or otherwise deemed worthy to be called by God? I don’t think so. Just willingness to follow, a willingness to go, to be sent where God want us to go.
In the story of Isaiah, he is called to be voice in the wilderness, like is successor John the Baptist, he is calling to a community that does not want hear the news which is proclaiming. The news he is called to herald is this: “It’s going to get bad, people, really bad, our future looks bleak, but not forever. There is a season of death and destruction, but renewal, healing and reconciliation is around the corner.” The people of God, which for Isaiah’s context are the inhabitants of Israel would much rather ignore the prophecy of God and live life to the fullest while they still have the chance. Which if there is any overstated cliché of the 21st century it is this notion that life is meant to be lived to the fullest, not ever stay in a situation that is uncomfortable for more than five minutes. Maybe I am being unfair though.
Let me complain about my own generation for a minute. We are some of the most impulsive people, so action, reaction oriented. We are like the dog in the movie UP. How many of you seen that movie? There is the part where an inventor has created a dog collar that allows humans to understand dog speak. So this one dog is speaking to his humans and every so often, he turns his head and shouts “Squirrel!” That’s kind the story of my peers, we are so distracted by life. And the Internet has just made it worse, we haven’t really figured out how to multi-task either, so we are constantly shouting squirrel and distracted from the important tasks, which typically right in front of us.
What I might be realizing, though, is that it isn’t my generation’s fault, or the fault of the Internet, or the fault of the iphone or even Obama’s fault, but the struggle to put first things first and see the world as God would like us to see is not a new problem. The ancient people struggled as much as we did. They were as blind and distracted as we are.
This is what Isaiah is trying to say. Wake up, people. Your headed down the path of self-destruction. You have forgotten God’s commandment to love one another, to take care of the poor, to take care of the widow. There is a better way!
Perhaps the problem is a universal challenge of commitment. And the only thing that has changed in our lives is that there are a lot more choices than there used to be. We have the choice to commit our lives, our time, our heart to so much more than we ever could before. How can we ever say, “Here I am, send me? Here I am, use me. Here I am, all of me.” That kind of commitment is risky, it is vulnerable and truthfully I’m not sure if it is possible because I have a lot of other things I need to do first.
There are no prerequisites to be called by God, only a willingness to follow. Just saying, “ok, I’ll do it.”
Herein is my second problem, though: I’d like to know what I am signing up before I sign up. I would like to know the full extent of what such a commitment would like before I say yes. Jesus says to me, “Follow me.” Alright, but can give you me a full itinerary of where we are going? Can you let me know what it is going to cost? Oh, and who else is going to be there? Can you work this up for me on a spreadsheet?
I believe that the calling of Christ is often confused with a puritanical abstention from vices. “Follow me” is not a call to be perfect, but more a call towards mindfulness and intentionality. “Follow me” is not a call towards holiness, but a call towards justice.
The call and the acceptance of such a call is about mindfulness and intentionality. Following Jesus and God will change how we are known, how we are measured by others.
In the last few weeks, I have prepared two memorial services for two incredible women. In their stories, in the memories that are shared, what becomes clear amidst the remembrances is how these women were known. You can’t help but wonder how you might be remembered, the story they will tell about you.
When my grandmother died, I knew that one of her dying wishes was that I was the preacher at funeral. And that’s how she would have put it. Knowing that it would not be easy, the pastor at my parent’s church agreed to help me. He said some kinds words and then it was my turn to speak. I shared some stories about my grandmother’s inappropriate humor that I thought was going to make the funeral home director faint, her love, and her fierce determinism. I was honest. I told granny’s story. She wasn’t on the path towards sainthood by any means, but she was granny and she loved us.
At some point in the last 10 or 20 years, how we talk about those who die has changed. There is more room for honesty in our conversations, even in the church. And if you want to see the people who didn’t really know the dead person in the room, just look for the person squirming in their seat. I believe this honesty is refreshing, but simultaneously dangerous.
If we follow the story of God and beckon the call of Christ, then it changes how we are known and ultimately how we are remembered. There is no road map in following. It looks different for all of us, for some it means embracing the calling of being a husband or wife, taking on the calling of being a parent or grandparent. The calling of God is about how we see ourselves and how we are seen.
We are readying to enter into the Lenten season this week with Ash Wednesday. Lent is a tradition that stretches back many centuries. Lent is a Latin word meaning 40. It refers to the 40 days prior to Easter, a time spent preparing ourselves physically, mentally, emotionally and spiritually for the season of Easter. Lent is a time of letting go and taking on, letting go of our destructive and distracting tendencies and taking on intentional and life-giving practices. For some, this means a season of fasting or season of giving up a bad habit. For others, it means spending each day in prayer or meditation. At church, we will be doing some different things during our worship experience, hopefully things that will not be distracting, but drawing you closer to experiencing God for this hour on Sunday.
Lent is a time for us to examine our perspective in begin seeing the world like a Saturday morning preacher. I would be lying if I said that I’ve never waited until Saturday morning to write my sermon, most weeks I try to have things finished by Wednesday afternoon and then only finishing touches on the time between then and Sunday morning. But I know there are some preachers who do not even start writing until Saturday morning, sometimes Saturday evening. If you haven’t written your sermon before Saturday then you begin to look at everything as spiritual backdrop and see everything with a God lens. This coffee, that paper clip, the rising sun, the car alarm, the phone message, the carpet, the mail, something has to be spiritual, everything has to be spiritual.
And even though I don’t ever suggest writing a sermon on Saturday morning, I think if we could see the world through the lens of creating a story about God, one that reflects the story of Christ, then we may see the world a bit differently. If every irritation became a possible illustration and every mundane moment became a ministry tool, then I believe we might get closer what Jesus was trying to do when he called out, “Follow me.” Seeing the world like a Saturday morning preacher.
It may seem too simple. But it takes courage, strength and patience to hear the voice of God and respond, “Here I Am, Send Me.”
