What are We Waiting For?

Sermon preached Sunday, January 21, 2024, the Third Sunday after Epiphany, at Lutheran Church of Our Saviour in North Chesterfield, VA. 

I’m a planner. It doesn’t mean that I can’t or won’t be spontaneous, but I prefer to know what’s coming, what I have waiting for me down the pike. I want to plan, to feel as if I have some control, and so I’ll often have three or four scenarios laid out, ready to be used when I need them.

My mom’s the same way, too. Neither of us can stand feeling as though we have no control over our futures and so we take control whenever and however we can.

Whenever a big life change is on the horizon, the lists, the googling, the contingencies begin.

When we were looking to buy a house, there were a series of plans that were begun and discarded as offers weren’t accepted or as we didn’t like a house as much in person as we did in pictures.

When I got pregnant with Owen, pinterest became my best friend as I looked up pregnancy tips, newborn care advice, nursery decorating ideas, and recipes for freezer meals to carry us through those early days when we didn’t have the energy to cook. It was less intense with Ellie, but had the added complication of the damage to our house which required a whole other list of plan b’s to be prepared.

One of the trickiest parts of Owen’s treatment is our lack of ability to definitively plan. Anyone who has had or accompanied someone with a severe or chronic illness knows what it’s like to constantly have doctors appointments popping up or clinic visits being rearranged or having circumstances mean that a certain activity is no longer a good idea.

And it’s hard.

…I like to plan.

Which makes it extremely hard for me to identify with the disciples called by Jesus in this morning’s Gospel. What they do is so far outside my wheelhouse!

Can you imagine what it must have been like for these men? Can you imagine picking up and leaving your entire life after one sentence from stranger? They are fishing—likely what they did every day. There’s not a lot of job or financial security in fishing: each day they had to bring in enough to feed themselves, their families, and to sell or trade. So, them leaving is a big deal. It’s not calling in sick from work for a couple days—it’s abandoning your livelihood!

Simon and Andrew hear Jesus call to them, “Follow me and I will make you fish for people.” And immediately they leave their nets and follow him. A little further, Jesus calls to James and John and, again immediately, they leave their family business and follow him. They have no income. No backup plan. No knowledge of what they might be getting themselves into. All Jesus has said is “Follow me” and they do!

No questions asked. …No security. …No guarantee or contingency plan.

And they don’t just leave—that would be bold enough on its own!—they leave immediately. They act immediately to the call from God.

This word, “immediately,” is a hallmark of this Gospel. Over and over again, as we make our way through Mark, we will hear how things are happening right away. This Gospel moves at a fast clip and the listener is asked to keep up!

How many things do we do immediately? Without any delay? [Beat] Maybe I’m just a major procrastinator, but I can’t think of a lot. Things that we do immediately. Not soon. Not in a timely manner. Not before a deadline. Immediately.

It’s remarkable, really. These disciples hear God calling them and decide that they can’t wait another second longer to join in. Jesus gives an invitation, and they take him up on it right away!

Do you hear it? Jesus calling you? This call, this invitation is not just for the individuals who will eventually become the Twelve Disciples. No, it is for us all: for every hearer of these words, for every person who busy doing the work of everyday life, Jesus calls us. Jesus calls us to life: new, abundant, transformative, immediate life.

How do we react to that call? What is our response? Do we act immediately? What keeps us from acting immediately? These first disciples are so filled with faith and hope at Jesus’ call that they cannot help themselves—they must follow him. What dampens that same fire and spirit in us?  What stands in the way of following Jesus into immediate, abundant life?

Unfortunately, the answer to that question is a rather long list. We have our busy schedules, which make carving out time for ourselves, let alone our faith community and spiritual lives a challenge. It’s hard to focus on what God is calling you to do when a new Facebook notification pops up. Every other story in the news makes us worry and encourages us to be more cautious with others, more on guard, more fearful of being hurt or taken advantage of. The political and societal climate encourages us to blame others and surround ourselves with only those who agree with us, instead of encouraging understanding, compassion, and compromise.

I could go on, but this is stuff you know already. You know what keeps you from acting on God’s call. You know what disheartens you. You know the reasons why you feel exhausted and why the notion of doing anything “immediately,” even the work of the Gospel, seems far-fetched.

Maybe the remedy comes, at least in part, from this community. Maybe this community of faith, gathered in spirit, is the thing that allows us to act with immediacy, the energy source of our faith. Here we are renewed and sustained and sent back out into the world.

The community can speak when we don’t know how to. When our faith is strong, we can sing loud and proud. When it is weak, we can let others proclaim God’s grace for us. When we’re not sure of where we stand with God, we make the sign of the cross and remember that we have been claimed and named as God’s children. Let that fire of faith be rekindled in you each week.

And when the worship service is over? Kindle each other’s flames! Encourage one another. Reach out to each other. Help one another in serving God’s mission.

Jesus calls the first disciples to be “fishers of people.” It’s a funny term. The mental picture of a bunch of people being drawn up in a net like fish is frankly a little odd. But that’s what Jesus says: “fishers of people.”

We won’t always be the fishers. We won’t always be the ones proclaiming the Good News loudly. Sometimes we’ll be the fish, swimming in the murky waters, deep below the surface, unaware of the light that awaits us. We are fishers and we are fish. Another preacher put it this way: “Following Jesus means becoming a fish as well as groping for other fish to draw into the net.” (from Sundays and Seasons: Preaching 2021)

And why do we grope for other fish?

It’s not to increase our attendance numbers. It’s not to get more kids coming on a weekly basis. It’s not to increase our offerings or have a youth group with twenty kids in it. All of these may be positive things, but they are not why we are called to be fishers of people. They are not ultimately the work of the Church or the mission of God.

We are called to fish for people to share the Good News of Jesus Christ with them and to help others be aware of the immediacy of God’s abundant grace. With one action, Christ’s death and resurrection, we are forgiven, redeemed, saved—once and for all. This is the mission of the church: share the good news and share it immediately. It’s too incredible to let it wait.

“The time is fulfilled, and the kingdom of God has come near…”

…So what are we waiting for?

Amen.

Getting Caught Up

Sermon preached Sunday, January 22, 2023, the Third Sunday after Epiphany, at Lutheran Church of Our Saviour in North Chesterfield, VA. 

Imagine it’s the middle of the night. You’ve woken up and realized that you need to use the bathroom, or maybe you just want a drink of water. You get out of bed and have a choice: turn on the light, or find your way in the dark.

If you’re anything like me, you choose the second option. I avoid turning on the light at all costs. Flipping the switch is harsh and hurts your eyes, and it might make it harder to go back to sleep later. It’s easier to leave the light off…until, of course, you stub your toe on a table leg, or knock your hip into a doorknob.

This happens to me all the time! And yet, I still choose, time and again, to keep the lights off and stay in the shadow of night.

Because while the night might be a little dangerous, especially for our toes or hips, it can also be somewhat comforting. The light, after all, forces us to see things we might prefer to leave hidden: our dishes in the sink which we didn’t get to after dinner, the running shoes by the door that we swear we will lace up in the morning before work—really, this time, we will!—or maybe it’s the stack of mail on the counter, with a bill on top, reminding us of all the obligations, financial or otherwise, we need to attend to. It’s far easier for our peace of mind to keep these things out of sight.

But still, even though we can hide from these things when they are shrouded in shadow, we can’t change or address them. We can’t do the dishes in the without being able to see. We can’t run with no light to guide our way. We can’t take care of our bills or other tasks when we can’t tell what is in front of us our way. We can pretend that they’re not there, but that’s about it. We need sunlight or artificial light to make progress, we need some kind of light to move forward in our lives.

In this morning’s reading, Jesus quotes the prophet Isaiah. He proclaims that “the people who sat in darkness have seen a great light. And for those who lived in the land where death casts its shadow, a light has shined.” Jesus, the light of the world, has come, and everything changes.

Everything changes, because after Jesus says this, he calls his first disciples.

I love call stories, especially those recorded in the Bible. I find that, inevitably, these stories give us incredible insight into how God relates with humanity, both then, and now.

Jesus calls his first disciples by saying that they will be fishers of people.

Fishers of people—people who, as we heard, lived in a land where death cast its shadow.

Ancient fishermen would toss their nets into the water. After a period of time, they would draw the nets in. They would pull the fish through the sea and up onto the boat. From the depths of the water into the open air. From shadow and murkiness under the surface, to the light of the sunlit deck.

The fish are gathered together…they are caught up in the net and transported.

But we’re not talking about fish here…we’re talking about people. And people aren’t caught up in the net and transported—but maybe they’re caught up in the Word and transformed.

How were the disciples meant to be fishers of people? How are we meant to be fishers of people? What does this look like?

I think it comes down to what we do as “fishers.” As fishers, as disciples, we are only acting because God has first acted in us. We are empowered and sent by God to share the good news, to share the Gospel with others. We have been freed, loved and forgiven and, in turn, have the great privilege of proclaiming freedom, love and forgiveness to others. The “net,” then, that we’re given to use is one of the Word of God.

I’m always a little wary of using the fisher’s “net” in an analogy, because I never want it to sound like we’re “tricking” or “trapping” people into faith. It’s certainly something to be cautious about. But I think we can work with it here.

If we relate the net to the Gospel, to the Word of God, we can see that this is not something that tricks or traps, but rather invites. The Word of God invites people into living deeper lives of faith, discipleship and grace. And so the Word of God is cast out into the sea of our world. God’s Word comes in and among people and people are “caught up” by God and God’s Word.

God, through the imperfect hands of us fishers, reaches down into the depths of despair and shadowy murkiness and pulls all people into the light of Christ.

The light of Christ! The question is, are we ready for it? Are we ready for that light?

Remember back to where we started here…that discussion of night and light. The gloom of night is difficult, a little scary and even sometimes painful…but oftentimes it feels safer. We’re sometimes afraid of the light.

Or, to put it another way, we become familiar with what we can’t see, even if it’s hurting us, which means we’re sometimes afraid of the light of Christ—we’re sometimes afraid of what God might actually do in our life.

While we’re in the shadows, we might be able to ignore some harsh facts of our lives. We might be able to pretend the certain relationships have become broken. We might delude ourselves by thinking our actions toward others have no bearing on our faith life. We might even be able to imagine that our salvation is in our own hands.

Lucky for us, God doesn’t wait until we’re ready to leave the gloom,  much like fishers don’t wait until fish hop up onto their boat, ready to be taken ashore.

God, the Word of God, comes down into our depths, to the places where we’d often like to hide, and gathers us in. We are caught up in the net of the Gospel and grace and pulled into the light.

This light might hurt at first. It might be too bright or too harsh. But, in the end, it is this light that allows us to heal those things that were hurting us while we were down below.

When our lives are filled with the light of Christ, we find the strength to work towards reconciliation with the people who have hurt us…or maybe who we have hurt. That light inspires us and sustains us in service to our neighbors, those we know and those we think of as “other.”

That wonderful light finds us and gives us immeasurable grace and salvation when we are exasperated at our own feeble attempts at either—after all, grace and salvation can only come through God.

This light does not come from us, it comes from Christ. The light shines in the shadowiness of our sinful, broken lives and it is not overcome.

God has a large net, one that does not exclude or discriminate. God’s Word is cast out to all people and we are caught up in it. We are caught up and saved. We are caught up and transformed.

We are caught up in God’s loving embrace and taken into the Light.

Amen.

How Will You Bear Witness?

Sermon preached Sunday, January 15, 2023, the Second Sunday after Epiphany, at Lutheran Church of Our Saviour in North Chesterfield, VA. 

A colleague posted on a clergy Facebook page, “Well, who’s got something new to say about John the Baptist?” If you’ve been in church through Advent and even up to last week, you know we’ve had quite a few Gospel lessons telling the story of John and his preparations for Jesus. It starts to feel a little repetitive, but luckily each portion of text we’ve read has had it’s own nuance.

Today’s account of John comes from the Gospel of John (incidentally, these are not the same man). Words mean a lot to this Gospel writer and he is particular about the words he chooses. Any miraculous deed Jesus does, for example, is called a “sign” and not a “miracle” because they only serve as signs that point to the power of God. So, in his telling of the story of John the Baptist or Baptizer…he never calls him that. John is not the baptizer…he is the witness.

What does a witness do? They testify. They testify to what they have seen and heard and know to be true. John’s testimony is what he declares as Jesus comes walking towards him: “Here is the Lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world!” The next day, he does the same thing! He sees Jesus and calls out, “Look, here is the Lamb of God!” His testimony is so compelling that even two of his own disciples begin to follow Jesus.

The idea of Christian witness, of our witness, is a complicated issue. What should our witness consist of? How should we share it? Who should we share it with? What are the best strategies? These are arguments and discussions that fill evangelism committee meetings around the world. The thing is, no one idea or style works in every culture or in every time period.

There used to be a time in this country when the most effective evangelism you could do would be to walk around the neighborhoods closest to the church and introduce yourself, maybe bring along some nice baked goods, and invite someone to your church. This just isn’t the case anymore. The drop-in culture that used to exist, when you might expect someone to stop by unexpectedly at any time has changed.

Nowadays, most people don’t appreciate an unanticipated visitor. They’d prefer to have time to pick up the house or get changed out of their sweats, or maybe they are just enjoying a day at home and don’t want to interact with other people. More and more folks don’t want to answer the door at all if they don’t know ahead of time that someone is coming by. You can see, then, why this door-to-door strategy just doesn’t work as well anymore. The well-meaning congregation members doing this work often come off as pushy or intrusive when before they would simply come off as friendly.

So, you’re probably asking, well, what then? What are we supposed to do? What strategies do work?

I wish I could give you a ten-point list of things to do that would get this church full and bursting. …but I can’t. No one can. Evangelism is an experimental process and the goal should not be more members for the church. The goal of evangelism should be that more people are able to experience the love of God. If that compels or encourages them to attend worship with us, great. But that’s not the purpose. And if we approach evangelism with a “butts and bucks” mentality, we will almost certainly fail.

People can sense when they are being used, when others aren’t being sincere with them. If we are just angling for warm bodies, we are missing the point entirely. We are sent out to proclaim the Gospel of Jesus simply so that others might know what a loving God we have—nothing more, nothing less.

All that being said, perhaps we need to look at Jesus’ own strategy in John’s gospel.

As Jesus is walking by John, John yells out that this is that Lamb of God. Curious, two of John’s disciples end up following Jesus. Eventually Jesus turns around sees them following him. He asks them, “What are you looking for?” They ignore his question and respond with, “Rabbi, where are you staying?” And what does he say in response? “Come and see.”

Come and see.

Such a simple phrase and yet it ends up being all these first disciples need. They came and saw and then later told others about their experience and those others also came and saw. Jesus’ first disciples came about as a chain reaction of coming and seeing and then witnessing to it all.

So, let’s expand on that. What might it look like for us to invite someone to come and see? What might be contained in that?

Of course, there’s the obvious answer: we might invite someone to church, to come and see what God is doing here, in this place, when we gather for worship. That, for some folks, can be a powerful way of witnessing. Maybe they are looking for a church home. Maybe they are searching for a worshipping community that they can enter into. For those folks, an invitation to worship might be just the thing!

For others, though, the worshipping body might not be the thing that helps them see God the most. If we invite them to come and see, where else could we invite them to see God at work? Where else might they encounter Jesus?

Maybe it’s in volunteering! Maybe you help out put together lunches for Richmond Friends of the Homeless and invite someone to help you out. Maybe there’s another organization you give your time to. Maybe you meet up on Saturday mornings with the men’s group or Esther Circle. Maybe you just want a friend to go shopping with you while you pick out food to bring in and donate or while you’re buying gifts for Christmas Mother. It could be as simple as that—doing something that you feel called to do in service to others and letting someone else bear witness to it.

Maybe, more than that, it’s just the way you live your life: the way others see you live your life. If someone were to “come and see” your day-to-day living, what would they see? Now, none of us are perfect and we all make mistakes, but what would the greater trend be? Compassion? Justice? Grace? Or selfishness, a me-first mentality, and a refusal to forgive?

In the calling of these first disciples in the Gospel of John, it is their experiences that lead them to Christ. They spent time with John and through that, heard his testimony about Jesus. Then, they went to Jesus and it was their encounter with him, staying with him that day, that led them to share their own testimony in turn. John’s preaching was one thing…but it wasn’t the only think that led people to Christ.

There’s a popular quote, often attributed to St. Francis of Assisi, maybe you’ve heard it before: “Preach the Gospel at all times—if necessary, use words.” Our words are powerful and, for some, they can be the doorway to a life of faith or deeper engagement. But, for others, our actions have a far greater impact.

Think about your own life, your own faith. What first brought you to church? Maybe your parents. Maybe a friend’s invitation. Maybe a sense you should come that was triggered when you drove by. Maybe something else entirely.

…but what is it that keeps you here? What is it that keeps you engaged with God? I’d be willing to be it isn’t someone else’s words. It isn’t just the recounting of stories in the Bible—it’s what God has done for you and what God is continuing to do in your life. You’ve felt the Holy Spirit moving and seen incredible things happen that can only come from God.

So, bear witness, my beloved siblings, in whatever way works for you. Live the story of God’s love in your words and in your deeds. Invite the world to “come and see.”

Amen.

Immediately

Sermon preached Sunday, January 24, 2021, the Third Sunday after Epiphany, at St. John’s Evangelical Lutheran Church in Littlestown, PA. 

I’m a planner. It doesn’t mean that I can’t or won’t be spontaneous, but I prefer to know what’s coming, what I have waiting for me down the pike. I want to plan, to feel as if I have some control, and so I’ll often have three or four scenarios laid out, ready to be used when I need them.

My mom’s the same way, too. Neither of us can stand feeling as though we have no control over our futures and so we take control whenever and however we can.

Whenever a big life change is on the horizon, the lists, the googling, the contingencies begin.

When we were looking to buy a house, there were a series of plans that were begun and discarded as offers weren’t accepted or as we didn’t like a house as much in person as we did in pictures.

When I got pregnant with Owen, Pinterest became my best friend as I looked up pregnancy tips, newborn care advice, nursery decorating ideas, and recipes for freezer meals to carry us through those early days when we didn’t have the energy to cook.

This year, in part, has been so difficult for many of us because we haven’t been able to plan, not in the long term. Timelines have been adjusted, expectations changed, and a realization that we simply can’t plan too far into the future, at least not until this pandemic is under control.

And it’s hard.

…I like to plan.

Which makes it extremely hard for me to identify with the disciples called by Jesus in this morning’s Gospel. What they do is so far outside my wheelhouse!

Can you imagine what it must have been like for these men? Can you imagine picking up and leaving your entire life after one sentence from stranger? They are fishing—likely what they did every day. There’s not a lot of job or financial security in fishing: each day they had to bring in enough to feed themselves, their families, and to sell or trade. So, them leaving is a big deal. It’s not calling in sick from work for a couple days—it’s abandoning your livelihood!

Simon and Andrew hear Jesus call to them, “Follow me and I will make you fish for people.” And immediately they leave their nets and follow him. A little further, Jesus calls to James and John and, again immediately, they leave their family business and follow him. They have no income. No backup plan. No knowledge of what they might be getting themselves into. All Jesus has said is “Follow me” and they do!

No questions asked. …No security. …No guarantee or contingency plan.

And they don’t just leave—that would be bold enough on its own!—they leave immediately. They act immediately to the call from God.

How many things do we do immediately? Without any delay? [Beat] Maybe I’m just a major procrastinator, but I can’t think of a lot. Things that we do immediately. Not soon. Not in a timely manner. Not before a deadline. Immediately.

It’s remarkable, really. These disciples hear God calling them and decide that they can’t wait another second longer to join in. Jesus gives an invitation, and they take him up on it right away!

Do you hear it? Jesus calling you? This call, this invitation is not just for the individuals who will eventually become the Twelve Disciples. No, it is for us all: for every hearer of these words, for every person who busy doing the work of everyday life, Jesus calls us. Jesus calls us to life: new, abundant, transformative, immediate life.

How do we react to that call? What is our response? Do we act immediately? What keeps us from acting immediately? These first disciples are so filled with faith and hope at Jesus’ call that they cannot help themselves—they must follow him. What dampens that same fire and spirit in us?  What stands in the way of following Jesus into immediate, abundant life?

Unfortunately, the answer to that question is a rather long list. We have our busy schedules, which make carving out time for ourselves, let alone our faith community and spiritual lives a challenge. It’s hard to focus on what God is calling you to do when a new Facebook notification pops up. Every other story in the news makes us worry and encourages us to be more cautious with others, more on guard, more fearful of being hurt or taken advantage of. The political and societal climate which encourages us to blame and surround ourselves with only those who agree with us, instead of encouraging understanding, compassion, and compromise.

I could go on, but this is stuff you know already. You know what keeps you from acting on God’s call. You know what disheartens you. You know the reasons why you feel exhausted and why the notion of doing anything “immediately,” even the work of the Gospel, seems far-fetched.

Maybe the remedy comes, at least in part, from this community. Maybe this community of faith, scattered about but gathered in spirit, is the thing that allows us to act with immediacy, the energy source of our faith. Here we are renewed and sustained and sent back out into the world.

The community can speak when we don’t know how to. When our faith is strong, we can sing loud and proud. When it is weak, we can let others proclaim God’s grace for us. When we’re not sure of where we stand with God, we make the sign of the cross and remember that we have been claimed and named as God’s children. Let that fire of faith be rekindled in you each week as you gather over YouTube or Facebook or Zoom.

And when the worship service is over? Kindle each other’s flames! Encourage one another. Reach out to each other. Help one another in serving God’s mission.

Jesus calls the first disciples to be “fishers of people.” It’s a funny term. The mental picture of a bunch of people being drawn up in a net like fish is frankly a little odd. But that’s what Jesus says: “fishers of people.”

We won’t always be the fishers. We won’t always be the ones proclaiming the Good News loudly. Sometimes we’ll be the fish, swimming in the murky waters, deep below the surface, unaware of the light that awaits us. We are fishers and we are fish. Another preacher put it this way: “Following Jesus means becoming a fish as well as groping for other fish to draw into the net.” (from Sundays and Seasons: Preaching)

And why do we grope for other fish?

It’s not to increase our attendance numbers. It’s not to get more kids coming on a weekly basis. It’s not to increase our offerings or have a youth group with twenty kids in it. All of these may be positive things, but they are not why we are called to be fishers of people. They are not ultimately the work of the Church or the mission of God.

We are called to fish for people to share the Good News of Jesus Christ with them and to help others be aware of the immediacy of God’s abundant grace. With one action, Christ’s death and resurrection, we are forgiven, redeemed, saved—once and for all. This is the mission of the church: share the good news and share it immediately. It’s too incredible to let it wait.

“The time is fulfilled, and the kingdom of God has come near…”

…So what are we waiting for?

Amen.

Called to Trust

Sermon preached Sunday, January 17, 2021, the Second Sunday after Epiphany, at St. John’s Evangelical Lutheran Church in Littlestown, PA. 

This morning, we hear two call stories: that of Samuel, and that of two of Jesus’ earliest disciples, Phillip and Nathaniel. Call stories hold a special place in scripture—they always have something important to say about God, about God’s relationship with the person being called, and about God’s relationship with humanity as a whole.

In a lot of ways, these stories are really different. Samuel is a boy who has been promised to serve God since the day he was born. Samuel is not expecting God to speak directly to him and it takes his mentor, Eli, finally understanding what’s going on to get him to come to that realization. God calls Samuel to be a great prophet, one of the greatest in Israel’s history, and never lets any of his prophecies “fall to the ground.”

Philip and Nathaniel are minding their own business. We don’t really know anything about either of them. We assume that they are Jewish, since the Jesus movement at this time was pretty much only Jews. We don’t know what they did for a living. We don’t know if they were disciples of John the Baptist—we don’t know if they even knew of John or thought John was on the right track. Maybe they thought John was a kook!

And Jesus just comes along and says, “Follow me,” and Phillip is on board. And it doesn’t happen right away, but Nathaniel gets on board, too!

These are very different stories: different origins for the ones being called, different stages of life, different methods of calling, different persons of the Trinity doing the calling…but, if we take the broad view, we can see there might be a connecting thread…and maybe that connecting thread is trust.

Eli trusts that it is God calling Samuel, and that the message Samuel retells is from God.

Samuel becomes a trustworthy prophet, the most trustworthy prophet in an age.

Phillip trusts that Jesus, this random guy calling out to him, is someone worth following.

And Nathaniel…his story is a little different, but it’s still about trust.

When we meet Nathaniel, he has trust in himself. He has trust in what he thinks he knows.

When his buddy Philip comes by and tells him about Jesus, Nathaniel is skeptical. He thinks he knows what’s going on. He thinks he knows the lay of the land. “Can anything good come out of Nazareth?”

He’s put his trust in his own bias, in his own prejudice. In other words, he put his trust in the wrong place.

When Philip invites Nathaniel to “Come and See,” he is inviting him to expand his worldview. And Jesus pushes it further. Jesus proclaims, “Here is truly an Israelite in whom there is no deceit!”

When Nathaniel hears this, he asks, “Where did you get to know me?” testing Jesus’ authority and questioning his wisdom. When Jesus answers that he saw him, Nathaniel finally seems to believe—but that’s not the point Jesus is trying to make.

Nathaniel now believes because Jesus fits the expectations Nathaniel has. But Jesus wants him to trust more. To trust differently. To trust in the signs that God is going to bring about, even when they don’t line up with those preconceived notions.

That’s the challenge for us, too, isn’t it? To trust. And to do our best to put our trust in the right thing.

Not in our abilities. Not in our assumptions. But through deep study and prayer and discernment, trusting in where we believe God is calling us.

If you quiet your heart and listen closely, what are you being called to?

Listen.

God is calling.

Jesus says, ‘Follow Me.”

Amen.

Trust to Take the First Step

Sermon preached Sunday, February 10, 2019, the Fifth Sunday after Epiphany, at St. John’s Evangelical Lutheran Church in Littlestown, PA. 

This past week, I spent Monday and Tuesday at our Synod’s Healthy Leaders Retreat. It’s a two-day event designed to give pastors, deacons, and other congregational leaders a chance to get away for rest, relaxation, and some continuing education. The theme was leadership through change—in other words, we explored strategies for walking with the church into the future and looked at biblical stories and examples of how this has happened in the past.

What it really came down to was trust. The main story we spent time with was the story of Moses and the Israelites in the wilderness. Everyone was unsure of where they were headed. Many of the Israelites complained and wanted to return to Egypt. They repeatedly rejected God and created idols to worship instead. They doubted that that they would ever see the promised land. The Israelites had to come to trust Moses. Moses had to trust the Israelites as a whole and his second-in-command, Aaron, in particular. And, of course, everyone had to trust that God was leading them where they needed to go.

All. About. Trust.

That’s what we hear in this morning’s readings, too. Trust in God to provide what is needed for the road ahead.

Isaiah trusts that God will make him ready to be a prophet. He calls himself a man of unclean lips and isn’t sure of his future. The seraph places the coal to his mouth and now Isaiah is ready. He trusts enough to say, “Here am I, send me.”

Paul trusts that God had prepared him for his role as an apostle. He was an unlikely choice for the role, as one who had viciously persecuted the church before having his conversion experience on the road to Damascus. He knew there was a possibility that he would be rejected by the people he’d once sought to destroy, or that he wouldn’t be very effective at spreading the Gospel. And yet, he trusted and the result was that he because an incredible missionary and evangelist for Christ.

And underlying the entire narrative we heard from the Gospel of Luke today is the question of whether or not these fishermen will decide to trust Jesus. When Jesus shows up, he hasn’t done all that much yet. He was beginning to have his name be known, but he hadn’t yet called any disciples or performed any miracles or healings. Instead, he had preached and bit and taught, but that didn’t necessarily set him apart as anything special and it certainly didn’t signal to most people that this was the Messiah.

Simon and the other soon-to-be disciples have to trust when they let Jesus on the boat in the first place. They have to trust when Jesus tells them to put their net on the other side. They had to trust that their boat wouldn’t sink with the huge haul of fish. And they had to trust that they’d be able to survive when they left their boats and their nets to follow this Jesus.

The disciples had no way of seeing the whole journey that lay before them…but they trusted enough to take that first step. They didn’t know that they would see miracles performed. They didn’t know that the diseases healed. They didn’t know about the confrontations with the religious authorities or the arrest or the crucifixion and they definitely didn’t know about the resurrection. All they knew was that this man had made an impression on them and they wanted to see what would happen next. They trusted that it would be important and valuable and God-filled.

As followers of Christ, as people who want to be disciples, it is this kind of trust that we are called to: the trust to take a step forward, even when we can’t see very far down the path. And, to be honest, this is really, really hard for us. It’s so scary! Who knows what might be lurking out there? We don’t want to sign on for something we don’t know the outcome of. We want mile markers, signs, well-lit paths, and Google Maps navigation. We want to know how long it’s going to take. We want to choose the shortest route. We want to avoid tolls and other unpleasant delays. We want to know our exact time of arrival.

But that’s not usually the way life works, is it? As much as that’s how we’d like every part of our life to work, it’s just not that simple, especially not when it comes to discipleship. When we talk about following Jesus, it’s not often we are able to see past that initial step.

But look what happens when people have the courage to move out of where they are comfortable and into the great unknown God is calling them to? Isaiah was one of Israel’s greatest prophets. Paul spread the good news far and wide and had a lasting effect on our Christian faith. And the disciples were privileged to travel with God, learn from God, witness incredible, miraculous things and be called Jesus’ friends. None of which would have happened without that first, trusting step.

And of course God is with them the entire way, from the very beginning. God never lets them journey alone. God never lets us journey alone.

So what journeys have you taken, beginning with nothing but faith and trust that God was calling you somewhere? A new job? A move to a new town? The first time you said “yes” to a date with the person who became your beloved partner in life? Trying out a new hobby or getting involved in a new organization? All of these things begin with saying, “Yes,” and trusting that, no matter what happens, you are in the arms of God.

And it’s not just about ourselves: what are the paths this congregation has embarked in faith? What are the steps we are poised to take, but hesitating over? What is holding us back? What is God calling us to?

Later this morning we will have our annual meeting. It is a time to celebrate the ministry we’ve done together in the past year. It is a time to adopt a new budget. And it is a time to think and pray really hard about what God is calling us to. What events and programs have we been doing that we should endeavor to continue? What events or programs may have run their course? What new idea is God whispering in our ear and speaking into our heart?

We don’t need to know how it will all turn out. We don’t need to be able to see all the way down the road to the finish line…but if we can see that first step, that first decision, that first shift of momentum, we can trust that God will lead us the rest of the way, even if it is into something completely unexpected.

Whatever the future might hold for this congregation or for your family or for your life individually, God is there to accompany you the whole way and so we can step forward confidently in trust.

Amen.