A New Old Calling
August 26, 2007
Jer. 1:4-10
“I’m too young. I don’t want to do it. You’ve got the wrong guy, Lord.”
Or, “Not me, man. I’ve got unclean lips.”
Or, “Uh, no thanks, God, really, you want my brother.”
Or, “Me? I’m just a teenage girl. You must mean someone else.”
God calls, and the heroes of the faith tend to say, “wrong number, buddy.”
It’s as if God’s got the wrong number, or worse, God is a telemarketer calling at dinner time or an e-mail spammer whose messages go immediately into the delete bin.
I got an unsolicited e-mail the other day thanking me for joining something called resumes.com. I can only guess it’s some head-hunting outfit – unless it was resume.com, and it’s for people starting up again. In either case, it seemed to be about call, in some sense, but not at all about me. I think Jeremiah felt the same way when God called him. OK, God, this seems to be about call, in some sense, but it can’t be about me. I am too young for this.
On one hand, Jeremiah was correct – the call was not, after all, about him; it was about God. On the other hand, Jeremiah was all wrong – the call was for him.
That’s the way it is with God’s calling – it is not about us, but it is for us.
It is also, always, about sharing this fundamental story of God that is, likewise, for us but not necessarily about us. In other words, God calls us to tell God’s story to the world, and that story is about grace that is, in fact, for us and for the world.
This is nothing new under the sun, nor is it particularly complicated. God has always called people to share the good news of God’s grace. And people have always misunderstood the call and resisted it. From Abram and Sarai, who could not believe that the grace of a child was truly for them, to Moses, who could not fathom that he might be the great liberator, to Isaiah, a man of unclean lips living amongst a people of unclean lips, to Mary, the unmarried girl called to bear God into the world in a new way, to the disciples, fishermen and tax collectors called to speak truth to power from the margins and out of lowliness, God’s people have misunderstood the call and resisted it.
But, remarkably enough, these same folks – representing a strange mix of faith and doubt, of holiness and brokenness, of strength and weakness – these same folks have found a capacity for trust that was enough to respond.
The question facing us – the church in the 21st century – is simple and straightforward: do we have that same capacity for trust enough to respond again to God’s call?
And make no mistake about it: God is calling us, here and now – today, in this very room. God is calling us into the world to share good news.
It is not enough merely to hear the news of God’s grace and then hoard it as some private possession that somehow gives us enough strength to make it through tomorrow and the next day. We are called to share it. We are called to share it.
Why? Why pass it on? Why take it out into the world?
First, because the story itself compels us to do so. From the great commission in Matthew, we hear Jesus tell his followers – and that would be us – “to go therefore into all the world … and teach them all that I have commanded you.” In other words, go into the world and pass the story along.
What did Jesus command? Remember the story from John’s account? “I give you a new commandment,” Jesus says, “love one another just as I have loved you.”
That’s the heart and soul of what we are commanded to do as followers of Jesus. But the great commission – as well as every story of prophetic calling – insists that we share that teaching with the world.
“Why?” we might ask again.
Because that way lies wholeness. That way lies shalom. That way lies abundant life. That way lies salvation.
None of this is complicated. In fact, it’s so simple that the youngest among us can get it quite clearly. That’s why I asked the children this morning, “what do you know about what Jesus taught us?” They know how Jesus wants us to treat one another. They also know that the world would be a better place if we all did so.
Now, that simple understanding should be more than enough to show us all why the good news of God’s grace cannot be a private possession of a few that gives the chosen the strength to make it through tomorrow and the next day. Indeed, that simple grace is to be shared precisely in order to transform tomorrow and the next day into something not merely to be endured but, instead, to be embraced as the next chance to receive God’s love and to share it.
I know that a lot of us – indeed, I suspect, most of us good, mainline Protestant Christians feel that showing such love in the way that we live is enough. After all, the first Christians were known, as Acts tells us, simply by the way they loved one another.
Nevertheless, in a fearful and broken world, simply loving those who are part of the community of faith is not enough. Nor is it enough to be decent and caring for others we meet in the world.
We are called to share good news. Yes, we are absolutely called to share it in the way that we live, but we are also called to name it as such for the world and pass it along.
Why? Because it makes a difference to know that you are loved. It makes a difference to know that at the center of all that is there beats a heart of love for you. It makes a difference to know that love is there for you regardless of your race, your gender, your sexuality, you economic status, your nationality, or your particular path to God. It makes a difference when you connect your life to that reality. It makes a difference when you begin to envision a social order guided by love and generosity and compassion. It makes a difference when we worship and connect to something larger than ourselves. And it makes a difference to understand that we proclaim this because of the claim that Jesus makes on us here, not in spite of that claim. Because, as I believe Paul would say were he preaching today, in Christ there is no east or west, no male or female, no straight or gay, no black or white, no American or Iranian, no Jew or Gentile, not even Christian or non-Christian, because what matters is the love that unites us before any distinctions divide us.
And if none of that makes a difference, why bother with any of the rest of this? Why maintain this old building? Why pay me a dime of your hard-earned money? Why get out of bed on Sunday morning? If none of the truth that we proclaim here matters, why bother?
But, if it does matter, then we cannot help but share it with the world.
Now I’m not talking about going out and telling folks that their salvation depends upon embracing the exact same convictions we circle our lives around here, but I am talking about naming salvation accurately in the world. And I’m not talking about going around telling folks that if they don’t believe the same things that we confess together in this place that they’re going to hell, but I am talking about naming hell accurately in the world. And I’m not talking about going around telling folks that if they don’t know God through Jesus then they cannot know God at all, but I am talking about naming God accurately in the world and following Jesus into that world as well.
We are called to this mission as clearly as Jeremiah was called to his, and our time yearns for this proclamation of good news just as desperately as Jeremiah’s time did.
This calling is as old as the good news itself, and it renews itself with each generation. Now it is our time to take up this old calling and make it our own.
There are lots of ways to take it up – reaching out through new technology, meeting folks where they are in the coffee shops and nightspots of Clarendon, going into the world in mission.
But we’re going to begin with the simplest, oldest technology available: our hands and feet. This morning, following worship, we’re going to walk the neighborhoods in our ZIP code and distribute these flyers. The information on them says a bit about who we are, and invites folks to visit us. This neighborhood canvas will be low-key – we’re not knocking on doors, just dropping post cards off on front porches. But if we believe that Clarendon Presbyterian Church is worth continuing, then we must believe it is worth sharing, because if we do not share it, it will die.
That’s not any surprising declaration, simply the demographic truth, as Ricky Bobby put it in the movies, “98 percent of us will die … the darkness is closing in.” Well, Ricky was an optimist to be sure, because last time I checked the death rate was one per person. If we do not pass the stories along, they will die out with us. If we do not renew the community, it will die with us. If we do not share the good news, it will die.
If you’re OK with that, well, then, I reckon it’s time for us all to give up right now on the future that God has called us to embrace. But make no mistake about it: God is calling us just a clearly as God called Jeremiah. We can try on all the old excuses: I’m too old; I’m too young; I’m too uncertain; I’m afraid. Or, we can add our names to the rolls of the faithful.
As for me and my household, we will serve that God and that calling and that vision of a future otherwise with as much energy, imagination and love as we can muster. I’d invite you this morning to join us.
Amen.
Jer. 1:4-10
“I’m too young. I don’t want to do it. You’ve got the wrong guy, Lord.”
Or, “Not me, man. I’ve got unclean lips.”
Or, “Uh, no thanks, God, really, you want my brother.”
Or, “Me? I’m just a teenage girl. You must mean someone else.”
God calls, and the heroes of the faith tend to say, “wrong number, buddy.”
It’s as if God’s got the wrong number, or worse, God is a telemarketer calling at dinner time or an e-mail spammer whose messages go immediately into the delete bin.
I got an unsolicited e-mail the other day thanking me for joining something called resumes.com. I can only guess it’s some head-hunting outfit – unless it was resume.com, and it’s for people starting up again. In either case, it seemed to be about call, in some sense, but not at all about me. I think Jeremiah felt the same way when God called him. OK, God, this seems to be about call, in some sense, but it can’t be about me. I am too young for this.
On one hand, Jeremiah was correct – the call was not, after all, about him; it was about God. On the other hand, Jeremiah was all wrong – the call was for him.
That’s the way it is with God’s calling – it is not about us, but it is for us.
It is also, always, about sharing this fundamental story of God that is, likewise, for us but not necessarily about us. In other words, God calls us to tell God’s story to the world, and that story is about grace that is, in fact, for us and for the world.
This is nothing new under the sun, nor is it particularly complicated. God has always called people to share the good news of God’s grace. And people have always misunderstood the call and resisted it. From Abram and Sarai, who could not believe that the grace of a child was truly for them, to Moses, who could not fathom that he might be the great liberator, to Isaiah, a man of unclean lips living amongst a people of unclean lips, to Mary, the unmarried girl called to bear God into the world in a new way, to the disciples, fishermen and tax collectors called to speak truth to power from the margins and out of lowliness, God’s people have misunderstood the call and resisted it.
But, remarkably enough, these same folks – representing a strange mix of faith and doubt, of holiness and brokenness, of strength and weakness – these same folks have found a capacity for trust that was enough to respond.
The question facing us – the church in the 21st century – is simple and straightforward: do we have that same capacity for trust enough to respond again to God’s call?
And make no mistake about it: God is calling us, here and now – today, in this very room. God is calling us into the world to share good news.
It is not enough merely to hear the news of God’s grace and then hoard it as some private possession that somehow gives us enough strength to make it through tomorrow and the next day. We are called to share it. We are called to share it.
Why? Why pass it on? Why take it out into the world?
First, because the story itself compels us to do so. From the great commission in Matthew, we hear Jesus tell his followers – and that would be us – “to go therefore into all the world … and teach them all that I have commanded you.” In other words, go into the world and pass the story along.
What did Jesus command? Remember the story from John’s account? “I give you a new commandment,” Jesus says, “love one another just as I have loved you.”
That’s the heart and soul of what we are commanded to do as followers of Jesus. But the great commission – as well as every story of prophetic calling – insists that we share that teaching with the world.
“Why?” we might ask again.
Because that way lies wholeness. That way lies shalom. That way lies abundant life. That way lies salvation.
None of this is complicated. In fact, it’s so simple that the youngest among us can get it quite clearly. That’s why I asked the children this morning, “what do you know about what Jesus taught us?” They know how Jesus wants us to treat one another. They also know that the world would be a better place if we all did so.
Now, that simple understanding should be more than enough to show us all why the good news of God’s grace cannot be a private possession of a few that gives the chosen the strength to make it through tomorrow and the next day. Indeed, that simple grace is to be shared precisely in order to transform tomorrow and the next day into something not merely to be endured but, instead, to be embraced as the next chance to receive God’s love and to share it.
I know that a lot of us – indeed, I suspect, most of us good, mainline Protestant Christians feel that showing such love in the way that we live is enough. After all, the first Christians were known, as Acts tells us, simply by the way they loved one another.
Nevertheless, in a fearful and broken world, simply loving those who are part of the community of faith is not enough. Nor is it enough to be decent and caring for others we meet in the world.
We are called to share good news. Yes, we are absolutely called to share it in the way that we live, but we are also called to name it as such for the world and pass it along.
Why? Because it makes a difference to know that you are loved. It makes a difference to know that at the center of all that is there beats a heart of love for you. It makes a difference to know that love is there for you regardless of your race, your gender, your sexuality, you economic status, your nationality, or your particular path to God. It makes a difference when you connect your life to that reality. It makes a difference when you begin to envision a social order guided by love and generosity and compassion. It makes a difference when we worship and connect to something larger than ourselves. And it makes a difference to understand that we proclaim this because of the claim that Jesus makes on us here, not in spite of that claim. Because, as I believe Paul would say were he preaching today, in Christ there is no east or west, no male or female, no straight or gay, no black or white, no American or Iranian, no Jew or Gentile, not even Christian or non-Christian, because what matters is the love that unites us before any distinctions divide us.
And if none of that makes a difference, why bother with any of the rest of this? Why maintain this old building? Why pay me a dime of your hard-earned money? Why get out of bed on Sunday morning? If none of the truth that we proclaim here matters, why bother?
But, if it does matter, then we cannot help but share it with the world.
Now I’m not talking about going out and telling folks that their salvation depends upon embracing the exact same convictions we circle our lives around here, but I am talking about naming salvation accurately in the world. And I’m not talking about going around telling folks that if they don’t believe the same things that we confess together in this place that they’re going to hell, but I am talking about naming hell accurately in the world. And I’m not talking about going around telling folks that if they don’t know God through Jesus then they cannot know God at all, but I am talking about naming God accurately in the world and following Jesus into that world as well.
We are called to this mission as clearly as Jeremiah was called to his, and our time yearns for this proclamation of good news just as desperately as Jeremiah’s time did.
This calling is as old as the good news itself, and it renews itself with each generation. Now it is our time to take up this old calling and make it our own.
There are lots of ways to take it up – reaching out through new technology, meeting folks where they are in the coffee shops and nightspots of Clarendon, going into the world in mission.
But we’re going to begin with the simplest, oldest technology available: our hands and feet. This morning, following worship, we’re going to walk the neighborhoods in our ZIP code and distribute these flyers. The information on them says a bit about who we are, and invites folks to visit us. This neighborhood canvas will be low-key – we’re not knocking on doors, just dropping post cards off on front porches. But if we believe that Clarendon Presbyterian Church is worth continuing, then we must believe it is worth sharing, because if we do not share it, it will die.
That’s not any surprising declaration, simply the demographic truth, as Ricky Bobby put it in the movies, “98 percent of us will die … the darkness is closing in.” Well, Ricky was an optimist to be sure, because last time I checked the death rate was one per person. If we do not pass the stories along, they will die out with us. If we do not renew the community, it will die with us. If we do not share the good news, it will die.
If you’re OK with that, well, then, I reckon it’s time for us all to give up right now on the future that God has called us to embrace. But make no mistake about it: God is calling us just a clearly as God called Jeremiah. We can try on all the old excuses: I’m too old; I’m too young; I’m too uncertain; I’m afraid. Or, we can add our names to the rolls of the faithful.
As for me and my household, we will serve that God and that calling and that vision of a future otherwise with as much energy, imagination and love as we can muster. I’d invite you this morning to join us.
Amen.
posted by David Ensign at
6:56 PM
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