Sermons

Follow Me, Come and See

John Wilkinson                            Third Presbyterian Church
January 15, 2006                        John 1:43-51

In his renowned memoirs called Markings, the late United Nations Secretary-General Dag Hammarskjold wrote this: “I don’t know who – or what – put the question, I don’t know when it was put. I don’t even remember answering. But at some moment I did answer Yes to Someone – or Something – and from that hour I was certain that existence is meaningful and that, therefore, my life, in self-surrender, had a goal.”

My life, in self-surrender, had a goal. Theologian William Placher writes that “Central to the many Christian interpretations of vocation is the idea that there is something – my vocation or calling – God has called me to do with my life, and my life has meaning and purpose at least in part because I am fulfilling my calling.” (Callings, page 2)

We have not always been clear or consistent in our thinking about these things. We have sometimes too closely aligned our jobs with our vocation or calling, equating who we are with what we do. Problems present themselves if we don’t like our jobs very much or we question the moral usefulness of our jobs or if in fact we have no job or are between jobs. Or what if we are not very good at what we perceive God is calling us to do. Or what if we’ve heard the voice wrongly.

Or do we think we have just one calling, just one vocation. Reality a generation or two might have affirmed that, but no more. Time was when we would graduate from high school or college, join a company at an entry-level position and emerge on the other end, 30 or 35 or 40 years later. No more. Rarely do we work for the same company, and, in fact, we may entirely change careers 2 or 3 times.

Our children will live into an even more evolving reality. They are faced with a dizzying array of choices – careers that did not seem to exist ten minutes ago and new ones that we cannot even imagine.

So equating work and worth, what we do from 9:00 to 5:00 with our calling as children of God, has its problems. There is so much more to who we are than what we do – spouse, partner, parent, neighbor, friend, citizen…so much more.

And yet we’ve been insistent to say that God does call, that God has a purpose for us, a vision, a reason. It is a question we carry with us all the time, though we often don’t consciously pose it ourselves or frame it in theological terms. That explains in part the phenomenon of Rick Warren’s The Purpose-Driven Life, discerning what God has in store for us.

Every once in awhile, in the Bible and in human experience, or so I understand, a voice does call out, issuing a summons, a deeply spiritual encounter. But for most of us, discernment happens more subtly, more gradually, in community. Frederick Buechner writes that God calls us to the “kind of work a) that you need most to do and b) that the world needs most to have done…the place God calls you to,” Buechner says, “is the place where your deep gladness and the world’s deep hunger meet.” (Wishful Thinking, page 95)

Our Reformation forbears believed that every job was a vocation. They held that belief for several reasons. A great leveling was happening between the clergy and the rest of society, a helpful leveling. No more did priests occupy the highest place in the vocational org. chart – every job was important to the common good, every job was important in God’s economy and all jobholders were equally blessed in God’s eye. And though our thinking is evolving, as we noted before, that affirmation remains fundamental and true.

And the question remains the same: what is God calling us to do, and how is God present in what we do. The answers are no less, or no more, clear or consistent than they’ve ever been, but they are with us, persistently with us.

Liturgically, we live in an odd moment, what I call rather inelegantly “in-between time.” We’ve journeyed through Advent, experienced the deep joy of Christmas, been lit up by Epiphany. We know Lent is somehow on the way. But in-between, in between birth and death, incarnation and crucifixion, there is simply living. Some philosopher or Hallmark card once said that “life is what happens when you are off making other plans,” and there is truth in that.

And in-between, for Jesus anyway, in John’s gospel, is a full on, pedal to the metal series of experiences and encounters. If you care to open your Bible to page 92 in the New Testament, to the first chapter of John, you will notice a kind of breathless pace. Verse 24 – “now.” Verse 29 – “the next day.” Verse 35 – “the next day.” Verse 43 – “the next day.” Chapter 2, verse 1 – “the third day.” Verse 12 – “after this.” And there are many more “after this’” to follow.

But it is not only about Jesus, and here is where we are invited to pay special attention in this in-between consideration of call and vocation. Jesus has been baptized by John – note the centrality of baptism in all this – Jesus has been baptized. Some in John’s community then join Jesus’ community. “Come and see,” Jesus says to them. A rather low-key, low-risk invitation. Come and see. Explore that curious itch, that not quite articulated internal nudge, that quest for meaning.

Come and see. And they did. The next day, Jesus heads to Galilee. Follow me, he says to Philip. Follow me. The invitation is simple and honest. We do not know the extent of Jesus’ knowledge of Philip, nor Philip’s of Jesus. In the account, at least, there are no credentials asked for. No degree. No voided check. No aptitude test from Philip’s high school guidance counselor. Follow me.

Not to take this too lightly, because one of the places that the battle in our church is happening is just this one, about who may be called and who may not, and credentials and qualifications. But Jesus does not seem to have ordination on his mind right now. He is interested in inviting people into his community, a community of fellowship and friendship and discipleship, as well as leadership. The sole credential seems to be the invitation, “follow me.” And the sole criterion seems to be just that, a willingness to follow.

At any rate, this is not about ordination, but something more fundamental and profound. Christine Pohl writes that these first experiences with God’s call are “unsettling, but…open into promises of deeper relationship and greater vision.” (Christian Century, January 10, 2006, page 21) Writes Gail O’Day: “…the identity of Jesus and the meaning of discipleship…(are) interrelated.”

John 1 spends considerable time identifying who Jesus is. But we could do that, could we not – the Bible could do that – without the next, crucial step. That is to say, all of this could be some kind of intellectual exercise – talking about Jesus – if it were not for the movement that puts all of the pieces of the puzzle together. We recognize who Jesus is, but complete recognition does not happen until we take the step to follow, until we actually answer the invitation to come and see.

Writes O’Day, “The call narratives begin with the identity of Jesus, and any change for the disciples begins with claiming and recognizing (him)…Discipleship is an active engagement with Jesus,” O’Day writes, and not simply an intellectual exercise.

And so it is. We do not know where following Jesus will take us. We do know, we who have the whole story before us, that such following will include risk and vulnerability. But we also know more deeply that it will include transformation, restoration, a level of gratitude and joy that is worth every second of risk, every moment of vulnerability, every hesitant step and unknown destination.

Gregory Jones offers that we all “long to be drawn toward a vision of everlasting holy places, a sense of direction and a (meaning) for the world and for our lives.” (Christian Century, January 10, 2006)

The calling of Jesus, the vision of risk and transformation he places before us, the simple “follow me, come and see,” provides that vision and meaning like nothing else can. How we get there becomes secondary to the fact that we are on the journey – it will be as unique as each of us.

That came home to me a day or so ago, as I waited several hours more than I hoped to in the Atlanta airport. I was sitting at a table, picking away at a meal and also picking away at the not-quite-formed elements of this morning’s conversation. My Bible was opened, rather discreetly, I hoped, on the table. A young man approached me. He spoke to me, catching me off guard. “Excuse me, sir,” he said. “Is that the King James Version of the Bible you are reading?” Now you need to understand that in some parts of the broader church, great battles are fought over biblical translations, and the King James Version is the only acceptable version for many Christians. “Is that the King James Version of the Bible you are reading.” I replied that in fact it was the Bible I was reading, but a different version. He seemed both slightly disappointed in my answer and vaguely satisfied. He walked away and I put my head back down to go to work.

I glanced up a bit later and noticed that he was in fact an airport employee, in charge with keeping that portion of the common eating area clean, wiping off tables, mopping the floor, emptying the garbage. I thought little of it – and then several more minutes later, as I was moving to my gate, he approached me again and engaged me in more conversation about the book that we both hold as so cherished.

There we were, culturally, vocationally, different, young and African-American and not-so young and not-so African-American.

But I know this. I know that while our jobs may differ and our experiences will rarely overlap, that he is no doubt at church this morning somewhere in Atlanta and I am at church here in Rochester, New York and we are each in our own blessed way encountering God’s word and discerning how God’s spirit is calling us into deeper discipleship and greater faithfulness. The directions will differ and the paths will be unique. But the voice that says “follow me, come and see” speaks to him and speaks to me and speaks to all of us, and calls us to new things, to risky things, to transforming things.

And we will be blessed as we follow.

Howard Thurman’s was an important voice in the vocational formation of Martin Luther King, Jr. Thurman was a student at the then Rochester Seminary, and later served as Dean of the Chapel of Boston University. His writings on spirituality continue to be popular and his thoughts on non-violence influenced King greatly. Thurman wrote: “I love Jesus for the shaft of light that he throws across the pathway of those who seek to answer the question, What shall I do with my life?”

And then Thurman answers that question with a powerful poem, heard, perhaps, by King himself…”Give me the courage to live!/ Really live – not merely exist./ Live dangerously,/ Scorning risk!/ Live honestly,/ Daring the truth –/ Particularly the truth of myself!/ Live resiliently –/Ever changing, ever growing, ever adapting./ Enduring the pain of change/ As though 'twere the travail of birth./ Give me the courage of live,/ Give me the strength to be free/And endure the burden of freedom/And the loneliness of those without chains;/ Let me not be trapped by success,/ Nor by failure, nor pleasure, nor grief,/ Nor malice, nor praise, nor remorse!/ Give me the courage to go on!/ Facing all that waits on the trail –/ Going eagerly, joyously on,/ And paying my way as I go,/ Without anger or fear or regret/Taking what life gives,/ Spending myself to the full,/ Head high, spirit winged, like a god –/ On…on…till the shadows draw close./ Then even when darkness shuts down,/ And I go out alone, as I came,/ Naked and blind as I came –/ Even then, gracious God, hear my prayer:/ Give me the courage to live!”

Amen.