One Who Calls
1 Sam. 3:1-10;
John 1:43-51
Let’s begin
this morning with a short word-association game: what’s the first thing that
pops into your mind when I say, “Jesus”?
So, first
things first: who is this Jesus, and what might it possibly mean to be one of
his followers? Is he the one who will return to earth with a great army and
subdue the forces of the antichrist like in the Left Behind books? Is he the “political philosopher” who most
influenced President Bush? Is he the “revolutionary” of John Dominic Crossan[1] or
the “wisdom of God”[2] that
Marcus Borg suggests? Certainly “Jesus” is among the first things for any
Christian and for any community of faith that calls itself Christian. Jesus is
among the first things, but Jesus is also among the most difficult for many
folks. We may think this is something new, something particular to our
postmodern age, but we’d be mistaken in that.
With the rise
of historical criticism in the 19th century came a wave of questions
about Jesus; concerns perhaps best captured in Albert Schweitzer’s The Quest of
the Historical Jesus. Schweitzer called Jesus “an eschatological prophet whose
message of the imminent coming of the reign of God is utterly strange to the
modern world.”[3]
So we might
think the “Jesus problem” is a modern concern, but, again, we’d be mistaken.
There have been high Christologies and low Christologies in every age. In the
Reformation, we can hear Martin Luther proclaim, “When Jesus Christ utters a
word, he opens his mouth so wide that it embraces all heaven and earth, even
though that word be but in a whisper. The word of the emperor is powerful, but
that of Jesus Christ governs the whole universe.”[4]
We might think
the “Jesus problem” arose in the Reformation, but we’d be mistaken.
Jesus has
always been a challenge, and his challenge has been the center of Christian
thinking for 2,000 years. The church fathers struggled, and adopted various
formulations to describe Jesus including the fourth-century Nicene Creed’s “God
of God, Light of Light, Very God of Very God, begotten, not made, being of one
substance with the Father by whom all things were made;” and the fifth-century Chalcedonian
affirmation that Jesus is “consubstantial with the Father,” which is to say
fully human and fully divine.
So we might be
forgiven for thinking that the “Jesus problem” arose in response to early
church controversies and heresies, but, again, we’d be mistaken.
Indeed, as far
back as New Testament times Jesus was the most difficult challenge for an
emerging faith community. Beginning with our passage in John, Jesus’
contemporaries are full of questions and doubts: “Can anything good come out of
The crowds,
according to various gospel reports, were confused. Some called him Elijah, some
Moses, some John the Baptist. The apostle Paul refers to Jesus’ story as a
scandal (I Cor.
You see, from
theological misunderstandings to outright denials, Jesus has always challenged
the life and faith and thought of those whose lives he touches.
So, again,
first things first: who is this Jesus, and what might it possibly mean to be
one of his followers?
Theologians and
people of faith have approached these questions from dozens upon dozens of
directions, and employed scores of methodologies. This morning I want to
proceed by way of story. Stories are not systematic theologies, and they may
raise as many questions as they answer, but, as Jesus clearly understood, God
often works in and through stories.
We’ll begin
with the stories from scripture that we have heard this morning. Each of them
underscores something crucial about Jesus and the experience of encountering
Jesus, for each of these stories insists on the centrality of vocation, on
voice, on call and on response. While the call of Samuel has nothing directly
to do with Jesus, it reminds us that call is often directed as the least expected
people, in this case, a child. The story reminds us that call is often a
process that must be repeated. Samuel doesn’t get it the first time. The story
also reminds us that call usually leads disciples toward challenging acts of
service. In this case, Samuel is called to tell his master, Eli, that the house
of Eli is corrupt and that its end is near.
The call of
Nathaniel and Phillip likewise teaches us about call. It reminds us that call
involves doubt: “Can anything good come from
So, again, who
is this Jesus? Jesus is one who calls. Jesus calls. Whatever else Jesus may be
for the heart of faith, Jesus does not sit enthroned in a distant palace. No,
Jesus calls.
The historical
Jesus, the human being from
I am a witness
here.
Now I don’t
have dramatic story – no blinding light on the road to
I don’t have a
story of finding deep peace in the midst of persecution, like Dr. King’s
No, I don’t
have a story like that. Nevertheless, I am a witness here. I know the reality
of encounter with the risen Christ. I know that Jesus calls disciples still
because I have heard him call my name.
I will confess
to a certain denseness around all this, a denseness born at the intersection of
doubt and desire. Because I know an overdeveloped sense of doubt, and because I
have always had a deep desire to do things my own way, it has taken Jesus a lot
of time and effort to get my attention. I first began to sense a call to
discipleship and, in particular, into ministry, when I was a teenager. I was in
my mid-thirties before I finally accepted an invitation that had been offered
continuously, in all kinds of ways, for the better part of two decades. I would
not be at all surprised to find that Jesus wonders regularly if I’ve been worth
the effort.
I do not
consider myself exemplary in faith or in service or in theology, and I often
wonder if there hasn’t been some mistaken identity, so I offer my own story not
as a guide to discipleship or ministry or faith or service. Perhaps I offer it,
rather, as a cautionary tale!
More seriously,
I offer my story because I do think that one aspect of it may ring true for
you. It involves the intersection of doubt and desire. It’s a matter of amazing
grace, and God’s deep sense of humor that I should be a leader in a faith
community that brazenly announces the welcome of those with faith and doubts. After
all, how could a leader with as many doubts as I have always had be of any use
to people who come here with their own deep doubts?
If I do have
anything at all to offer to you in your own doubts it is mere story. Stories
like being in a van full of teenagers driving into
Or being in the
midst of a group of Presbyterians from
Jesus calls us,
and if we move our own intersection of doubt and desire into places of deep
need in the world, we will feel his peace and hear his assurance and know
without doubt – even if only for a moment – know without doubt that Jesus calls
us to come and see.
So, who is
Jesus? There is so much more to say, but, first things first: Jesus is one who
calls.
The key is to
find the thin places in the world, the places where the still small voice of
love that God speaks in Jesus Christ can penetrate the cacophony of the
culture. Those thin places lie on the margins and are peopled by the outcasts,
the poor, the marginalized, the powerless, the young, the aged, the sick, the
mourning, peacemakers, those persecuted for righteousness sake, those who
hunger and thirst for justice. If you want to hear Jesus’ call, get you now to
a thin place. For Jesus is still calling disciples. Come and see.
Not only that,
but Jesus calls us to come and serve – to come and serve the world with love
and compassion, with mercy and with justice. Jesus is still calling. Come and
see.
[1] John Dominic Crossan, Jesus: A Revolutionary Biography (San Francisco: Harper, 1994). Crossan also says that Jesus comes “as one unknown” (194).
[2] Marcus Borg, Meeting Jesus Again for the First Time (San Francisco: Harper, 1994) 96-118.
[3] Schweitzer’s view as summarized in Daniel L. Migliore, Faith Seeking Understanding (Grand Rapids, Mich.: Eerdmans, 1991) 140.
[4] Martin
Luther, The Table-Talk of Martin Luther,
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