Called to What?

Jonah 3:1-10; Mark 1:14-20

January 22, 2006

So we have yet another foundational story of call. Jesus goes to the lakeshore and calls James and John to repent, believe the good news and follow him. This story is, let me suggest, first and foremost, a story about salvation. Salvation is certainly among the “first things” of a faith that calls Jesus “lord and savior.” But what does it mean, to be saved?

Rather than proceed by way of theological exposition, I want to begin with a personal salvation story. Now, you’ll note that I didn’t say “the” personal salvation story, but rather “a” personal salvation story, for anyone as regularly lost as I am needs more than one story of salvation.

This one happened on the road from Northeast Ohio to Chattanooga, Tennessee on the Friday before New Year’s some 20 years ago. The four of us were in a little Dodge Colt – Cheryl and I and our demanding dog and our demented cat. About two hours into the trip we noticed that the gas gauge was dropping precipitously. Then we noticed a faint whiff of gasoline, and, a few miles further on, a bit of engine sputtering.

We stopped outside of Columbus where a mechanic spent an hour or so adjusting a few things and we were back on the road. All was well for another hour or so, then the same things happened again. We staggered into Cincinnati by late afternoon. The first mechanic we found popped the hood, walked once around the front of the car and said, “well, I ain’t never seen nothing like that.” He walked back around the front of the car, paused, leaned in, took a breath and said, “hm, smells like gas.”

We found another mechanic. He made a few adjustments and we were back on the road.

A couple of hours later, in the middle of nowhere in central Kentucky, after dark on the Friday before a holiday weekend, the same symptoms hit again.

This time, in the gathering chill and gloom, a certain desperation began to creep into the car. Perhaps it was the Dramamine wearing off on the cat. Perhaps it was the long odds against finding a mechanic on Friday night after 7:00. Perhaps it was the dog breath filling the car.

In any case, if ever there was a time for a fox-hole prayer – you know the kind, “Dear God, if you get me out of this …” and then some wild and crazy promise that you know you’ll never actually fulfill. Well, if ever the was a time when I needed some salvation ….

Now, some folks promise they’ll stop drinking. Some promise they’ll stop lying. Some promise that they’ll never doubt again.

For me it has never been a question of habits or faith, but rather a question of obedience. So I said, to myself moreso than to God – with whom I was not on speaking terms at the moment: “God, if you get me out of this I will do what you want me to do.”

Well, we drove up an exit ramp that promised two gas stations: one to the right and one to the left. The one on the left looked a bit more promising, or, at least, a bit closer. But at the top of the ramp there was one of those tacky signs proclaiming, “Jesus Saves!” with a little arrow pointing to the right. I figured, “what the heck?”

We went to the right, where we found a little bit of salvation in the form of a mechanic whose wife was running late so he was still at work. If he’d been a Latino named Jesus I might have been forced to keep my promise. He was a good, ol’ Kentucky boy whose name I’ve long forgotten, but I have not forgotten the good humor and great skill with which he patched together our fuel pump and alternator enough to make it 200 more miles without incident.

For some folks, salvation means avoiding the fires of hell, or, more gently, avoiding eternity separated from God. For me, it mean avoiding a cold night in Kentucky. For some folks, salvation means heavenly choirs and streets of gold. For me, salvation meant a functioning fuel pump.

Surely, there are numerous visions of salvation that lie somewhere in between – salvation from a life of addiction, salvation from the depths of depression, salvation from the meaninglessness of a job. In the weeks ahead, we will talk with care about the meaning of salvation for the progressive church. Understanding salvation is, of course, important.

But more and more these days, it seems to me that the bigger question is not so much what does salvation mean, but rather what is it for? In other words, not only “what are we saved from” but also, “what are we saved for?” What is the purpose? And, for Christians, what does Jesus have to do with any of this?

Douglas John Hall articulates the question with clarity. “I am entirely convinced,” he writes in Why Christian?, “that ‘salvation’ as presented in the Bible and in the best traditions of Christian faith, does not mean being saved from our mortality, our finitude, our human creatureliness; nor does it mean being saved for an otherworldly state, immortality, heaven.”[1]

We see this from the beginning of the gospel story. In our passage from Mark this morning, Jesus is seeking followers, disciples. He announces his ministry with a call to repentance, to turning their lives from the ways of the culture and its values to the way of the gospel and its values. The first demand of the gospel is trust. “Believe the good news,” Jesus says.

This is not an invitation to the perfect Christology or theology. This is not a demand for the perfect creedal confession. Jesus does not say, “repeat after me the apostles’ creed,” or make for me a proper “confession of faith saying, ‘Jesus the Christ is my lord and savior.’” No, none of that.

The first step is to turn away from the values of the culture – in our case, a short list of such values would include affluence, success, consumption, appearance. The second step: trust the good news, a short list of whose values would include compassion, mercy, justice, love.

Gospel salvation lies in the abundant life that flows from these core gospel values. But, again, toward what purpose? What is the point of an abundant life lived according to such values founded on a basic trust in the good news of the gospel – the good news that God loves us and desires to live in deep communion with all of creation?

Our readings this morning push toward that next question: for what are we saved?

The first glimpse of purpose in the gospel narratives comes in Jesus’ enigmatic, “follow me and I will make you fish for people.”

What can that possibly mean? Well, one good fish story deserves another.

The wonderful story of Jonah, which I often think of as my own story of call, gives some depth to the question of call. Of course, it also underscores the discomfort of call. James and John leave their nets and their father – in other words, they leave their traditional economic and family supports and values behind – immediately to follow Jesus. Jonah doesn’t do anything immediately. Indeed, he runs in the opposite direction, as the opening of the story tells us.

“Go to Nineveh,” God says.

“Uh, no thank you,” says Jonah. “I believe I’ll go to Tarshish. Better coffee shops. Nice museums. Better job prospects.”

Then comes the fish story, as Jonah gets some time alone to consider his response to God’s call. I like to think that’s when he was praying for a good mechanic – one who might be able to open the mouth of a large fish. Jonah’s own foxhole prayer is answered, and he experiences his own salvation.

As is often the case for so many of us, salvation comes as a second chance. Given a second chance and additional time to reflect, Jonah hears God say again, “Go to Nineveh.” This time Jonah goes.

And we see in Nineveh the purpose of Jonah’s salvation, the purpose of his calling. Called to what? Jonah is called to share with a broken city the same good news he has just experienced. Even in Jonah’s doubt and even through his stubborn refusal, God continues to speak the good news of salvation to Jonah. When Jonah finally hears it, he is called to share it.

Ah, and here’s the rub. You see, the church – whatever else it is – is a house of memory, and the memories kept by the church are memories of salvation, recollections of salvation stories. The call of the church is to share the stories with a world that stands in desperate need of salvation.

In other words, this is fundamentally an evangelical call. We are called to share the good news of salvation that we find in Jesus with a broken world.

Wow! Is that scary or what! Pat Robertson might say exactly the same thing! Now you know why I didn’t want to go to Nineveh.

This is, I hope obviously, the place where it becomes crucially important to talk with great care about what salvation means, and what it does not mean. But for this morning, I will leave it at this: salvation has everything to do with living fully and abundantly in deep communion with God, with one another and with all creation.

God works in strange and mysterious ways. For me, I began to experience the reality of my own salvation in Kentucky. No, it wasn’t on the interstate that winter night years ago, but rather in a Presbyterian church in Lexington where deep communion became a way of life.

Next Sunday I will share with you a vision of church, of deep communion, of abundant life that had its roots in the Bluegrass and that I believe God is calling us into here in Clarendon. For now, though, I want to close with a prayer from a prophet of abundant life, St. Francis of Assisi.

We praise You, Lord, for all Your creatures,
especially for Brother Sun,
who is the day through whom You give us light.
And he is beautiful and radiant with great splendor,
of You Most High, he bears your likeness.
We praise You, Lord, for Sister Moon and the stars,
in the heavens you have made them bright, precious and fair.
We praise You, Lord, for Brothers Wind and Air,
fair and stormy, all weather's moods,
by which You cherish all that You have made.
We praise You, Lord, for Sister Water,
so useful, humble, precious and pure.
We praise You, Lord, for Brother Fire,
through whom You light the night.
He is beautiful, playful, robust, and strong.
We praise You, Lord, for Sister Earth,
who sustains us with her fruits, colored flowers, and herbs.
We praise You, Lord, for those who pardon,
for love of You bear sickness and trial.
Blessed are those who endure in peace,
by You Most High, they will be crowned.
We praise You, Lord, for Sister Death,
from whom no-one living can escape.
Woe to those who die in their sins!
Blessed are those that She finds doing Your Will.
No second death can do them harm. Amen.

 

 



[1] Douglas John Hall, Why Christian? (Minneapolis: Fortress, 1998) 41.