Sermon for Rally Day/God's Work Our Hands Sunday: September 8, 2013

Sermon for Sunday, September 8, 2013

Rally Day/God’s Work, Our Hands Sunday

Luke 14:25-33

PREACHER: Pastor Carrie Smith

Grace and peace to you from God our Father and the Lord Jesus Christ. Amen.

Now, large crowds were traveling with Jesus, because summer was finally over and it was Rally Day in Galilee. So Jesus turned and began his “welcome back to church” sermon by saying: “Whoever comes to me and does not hate father and mother, wife and children, brothers and sisters, yes, and even life itself, cannot be my disciple. Whoever does not carry the cross and follow me cannot be my disciple.” Amen?

Yeah, I think it probably went over just as well when Jesus preached it, too! This was one heckuva sermon for Jesus to deliver, especially after a dinner party during which he proclaimed “all are welcome!” Now that all those sinners, outcasts, and other folk have heard his message and rallied around him, he says “hate your family” and “carry the cross or you can’t be my disciple?” Well played, Jesus, well played.

Jesus must have been at least somewhat excited to see that his message was reaching more and more people. But the words we hear from him today indicate his concern, too: Do the people really understand what they’re signing up for? Do they realize this is an “all or nothing” proposition? Do they know where this path leads? Looking out at the crowd, Jesus may have noticed how some folks seemed to have one foot on the path with Jesus and one foot back at home. A few were keeping one eye on the door in case someone more important or interesting showed up. Others appeared to be listening to the sermon, but were in fact mentally making a shopping list for later on (go ahead and nod if you know what I mean. And don’t worry – I’ve actually written sermons in my head while listening to other preachers’ sermons! In the name of + Christ, we are all forgiven! Amen?)

It may not be a crowd-pleaser, but this passage from the 14^th chapter of Luke represents one of Jesus’ central messages: All are welcome, grace is for everyone, but following Jesus is a costly affair. This was literally a “come to Jesus” talk for the rallying crowds that day! Jesus says to all who would follow him: “No one comes any further on this journey until you know what you’re getting into and where we are going. I need you to be all in: Both feet forward, eyes on the prize, and, most importantly, hands free of possessions so you can carry the cross and follow me.”

Yes, Jesus calls us to practice “hands-free discipleship”. He asks us to relinquish all that stuff we love to hold so tightly—our over-packed schedules, our control over everyone and everything, our personal comforts and privileges, our strongly held beliefs, and everything else we’re proud to possess—so our hands will be free to carry the one thing Jesus requires of us: the cross of Christ.

The other day, when I preached on this text at the nursing home, I asked the little congregation assembled there what crosses they have to bear (thinking they might mention aging or facing their own mortality) but one resident right away offered: “Being cheerful to my roommate is the cross I must bear!”

Carrying the cross certainly can be a deeply personal struggle with any number of things: loving our neighbors, dealing with an addiction or an illness, or overcoming adversity. Some days, carrying the cross and following Jesus means just putting one foot in front of the other in spite of what life throws at you. Day by day, we all seek to see him more clearly, to love him more dearly, and to follow him more nearly. (nod if you just started humming the music of Godspell just now…)

Today, when we hear Jesus ask us to “take up the cross and follow”, we most often think of our daily discipleship walk. We imagine ourselves enduring life’s difficulties and coming out a better Christian at the end. But in Jesus’ time, the only people who carried the cross were criminals. Carrying a cross meant only one thing: a death sentence. The only people you saw with a cross on their backs were trudging through the city to their execution. This was not an attractive lifestyle choice. Carrying a cross didn’t make you a better person, build character, help you win elections, or give you better arm muscles. It just made you dead.

So for Jesus to say to the large crowd rallying around him “Listen, you can’t be my disciple unless you carry the cross and follow me” must have been quite a shock to the hearers. How many do you suppose turned around and went home? How many do you suppose turned to each other to ask, “What did he just say? Carry the what? Where are we going?”

For those who stayed for the whole sermon, the point was made clear: discipleship is serious business. It’s time to get real about what it’s like to follow Jesus, and to trust in God, when the party’s over, when the crowds are gone, and when Rally Day is finished. It’s time to contemplate just where Jesus is leading us in this cross-carrying itinerary—because it sure looks like we’re all headed to Calvary.

On Thursday I was called to the bedside of Bethany member Bill Kohl, 89 years old. (I’m sad to tell you that Bill died early this morning.) Please keep the Kohl and Romano families in your prayers. As many of you may know, Bill was a dentist for over 45 years. I mentioned to the family that I had been thinking about a good “theme verse” for Bill’s life. Unfortunately, there just aren’t many Bible passages about dentists or teeth! But Bill’s wife, Lois, said she had been thinking for several days about the hand blessing we experienced in worship here at Bethany last week. She was deeply moved by this ritual, when each of you had the opportunity to come forward and have your hands anointed with oil and blessed for the godly work that they do. “I wish he could have been there” Lois said. “He cared for so many people, so many teeth, and so many smiles with his hands.”

And then Lois went on to tell me how when she was called to the nursing home the night before, as Bill’s health started to quickly deteriorate, she walked in and saw a crowd of people working on him. Nurses, doctors, hospice workers, the chaplain—all gathered around her dear husband. All were using their hands to do God’s work of loving, comforting, and healing. All were accompanying Bill and his family on his final journey.  “All their hands are blessed hands” said Lois.

Sisters and brothers, I can think of no better example of what it means to carry the cross and follow Jesus wherever he leads. While we all have personal crosses to bear, discipleship is not chiefly about our own daily struggles. Carrying cross of Christ means lightening the load for others. It means keeping our hands free to do God’s work of loving our neighbors, bearing one another’s burdens, and yes, accompanying the condemned and the dying to the very end.

Today we are celebrating “God’s work, our hands” Sunday, in honor of the 25^th anniversary of the ELCA. This afternoon we will be out in the community, serving our neighbors at two different PADS sites, at the new LSSI Gable Point senior housing, at the Queen Anne home for disabled adults, and at the Fruits of Faith community garden. Behind us you can also see some visual examples of all the ways in which this beloved community does God’s work with our hands. This is a day to celebrate. It’s a day to roll up our sleeves and get to work, in the name of Christ.

But let’s be clear about one thing: we seek to do God’s work not to puff ourselves up, and never to save ourselves or become better people, but rather to join with God in the work of loving our neighbors, and sharing their burdens. Because we are free in Christ—free of sin and death and everything else that would possess us—our hands are available to take up the cross and become instruments of God’s love, peace, and mercy—whether we are providing shelter at PADS, food through the food pantry, making music to soothe souls and draw people closer to God, taking communion to shut-ins…or being present at the bedside of someone who is dying, using our God-given gifts and talents to comfort and to heal.

Sisters and brothers, on this “God’s Work, Our Hands” day, I give thanks for each of you and the ways in which you practice “hands-free discipleship”. Your hands are truly blessed! (Let’s do a very non-Lutheran thing right now and raise our hands in the air, saying “Thank you, God, for using my hands!” And now, everyone E-L-C-A!)

And now, dear friends in Christ, as we prepare for a busy season of work in the church, and as we celebrate all the work we do with our hands, let us also give thanks to God for the work we DO NOT do.  Let us rejoice again in the work that God’s already got covered, for  it is in Jesus Christ, our brother, that we see God’s work most clearly:

We see God’s work of love for the world through the birth of Jesus Christ.

We see God’s work of compassion in the life of Jesus Christ.  

And we chiefly see God’s work of redemption for all sinners in the walk Jesus made to Calvary, carrying the cross, and loving us to the end—even to death on that very cross.  

Sisters and brothers, God’s work is love. God’s work is sacrifice for the sake of others. God’s work is redemption for all of creation. In Christ, our hands are free to carry on God’s work for the sake of our neighbors, easing their burdens, and loving them as we have been loved – to the very end. Amen.

Sermon for Sunday, June 30: 6th Sunday after Pentecost

Sunday, June 30, 2013

Luke 9

PREACHER: Pastor Carrie Smith 

Grace and peace to you from God our Father and the Lord Jesus Christ. Amen.

So a priest, 2 Lutheran pastors, a political activist, a former missionary, 2 preacher’s kids, and an Archbishop of the Syriac Orthodox Church walk into a suburban steakhouse, and the bartender says…

I don’t actually have a punchline, but doesn’t that sound like the beginning of an excellent joke?

This was actually the scene last week, when my spouse Robert invited me to join him for a dinner with Archbishop Jean Kawak of Damascus, Syria. Bishop Kawak was scheduled to speak at a Lutheran Church in Barrington (an event which fifteen Bethany members also made time to attend—thank you!) and I was grateful to have the opportunity to chat with him at dinner beforehand.

To be fair, even the bartender had probably seen men in a clergy collar before, although perhaps not so many at one table. But it was the archbishop who made quite the impression in that little steakhouse. He wore a long black cassock and had a thick gray beard. Around his neck was a chain on which hung a large, ornate, filigreed icon of the Virgin Mary and the infant Jesus. And on his head was a black cap, embroidered with many small white crosses, covering his ears and the sides of his face. All around us, people were trying to find a polite way to stare, especially as the waitress brought a tray of beer and set it in front of this odd group of diners.

While we waited for the food to arrive, and of course always being interested clergy apparel, I decided to just go ahead and ask the bishop about the icon and the cap.

The icon, he explained carefully, was Mary and Jesus. 

I knew that part, I assured him!

He went on to explain that wearing it signified he was an archbishop. A regular bishop would be wearing a large cross instead.

And the cap, he said, had many meanings. The twelve small crosses were to represent the twelve disciples. The larger one, in the middle, represented Jesus Christ himself. And the entire cap wraps around the side of the head, covering the ears and the sides of the face, said the bishop, to remind him that a disciple must not listen to the other voices of the world, or look to the right or to the left, but should keep one’s head pointed straight ahead, listening to and following where Christ alone leads.

The image of Bishop Kawak’s little black hat was in my mind’s eye as I read the Gospel text for this week, in which Jesus tells a would-be follower: “No one who puts a hand to the plow and looks back is fit for the kingdom of God.” Luke chapter 9 tells us about three people who had the opportunity to follow Jesus on his journey to Jerusalem. One is eager to follow, but seems to back off when she hears the true nature of the trip. One is invited by Jesus himself, but he asks to go home and take care of other responsibilities first. And the third volunteers to enlist as a disciple, but wants to go home for some last good-byes.

And Jesus replies, in no uncertain terms: “No one who puts a hand to the plow and looks back is fit for the kingdom of God.” No one who looks to the right or to the left, who listens to the noise of the world, who looks back and longs for the good old days, or who wants to keep other options open, is fit to follow Jesus. 

If I could choose a theme song for this passage from the 9^th chapter of Luke, it would be the folk tune “Gospel Plow”, sung by the likes of Bob Dylan and Mahalia Jackson, which proclaims: “Keep your hand on the plow, hold on.”     

Jesus says to all who would follow him: “Keep your hand on the plow and hold on!” Those of you who gathered to hear Bishop Kawak speak last week got a sense of just how serious these words are for Christians in Syria today. The few Christian families who are left in Damascus struggle for work, for food, for an education for their children, and for safety. Churches have been bombed. Religious leaders havebeen kidnapped. Many families have already fled the country. But Bishop Kawak has told us that he will not leave. He will stay in Damascus—in a city where Saints Paul and Thomas are said to have lived, in a country which is called the cradle not only of Christianity but of civilization—until there are no more Christian families left, or until he himself is killed.

Bishop Kawak has decided to keep his hand on the plow, and to hold on. Hold on to his community. Hold on to the vision of a Syria where Christians and Muslims can again live in peace. Hold on to his faith in God and in Jesus Christ, who promises to be with us, even to the end of the age. God be with him, and with his community. Amen.

For most of us, following Jesus is much less costly. Our decision to be a Christian might mean choosing between denominations, choosing the best Sunday school or youth program, or choosing the early or late service. It means choosing to sit here on a wooden pew for a 10 minute sermon, over sitting at a table for brunch or getting a few extra hours of sleep on your only day off. As difficult as these decisions can feel on any given Sunday, as we approach our country’s Independence Day, we would do well to remember that having such choices available to us is a freedom that not all people enjoy.

And yet, I know there are costs for you, too. Some of you are here at the protest of your spouse or partner. Some of you have left the church of your youth to find a home in a more welcoming community. Even if you haven’t suffered violence or overt harassment because of your faith, some of you have experienced quieter forms of discrimination, sometimes even at the hands of other Christians whose paths seem paved with certainty.  Anyone who has joined in God’s mission to feed the hungry, house the homeless, heal the sick, and to work for justice and peace for the whole people of God has at one time or another prayed with the psalmist: “How long, O Lord? How long shall my enemies be exalted over me?” (Psalm 13) I know, sisters and brothers, that there are days in your discipleship journey when the only way to place one foot in front of the other is to sing along with Bob or Mahalia: “Keep your hand on the plow, and hold on!”

There is an old proverb that says: "When you get to your wit's end, remember that God lives there."

To that point, preacher and professor Alyce McKenzie writes:

“And it's a good thing, too. Because it's not natural to pursue long and arduous journeys with unflagging bravery and energy. It's not humanly possible to keep on plowing, keep on proclaiming the kingdom of God without looking back.”

Did you hear that? It’s not natural to do what Jesus asks. It’s not in our nature! And that’s the point: We are weak, but he is strong! We could never make the walk to Jerusalem on our own. But it is Jesus, crucified and risen, who calls us to something greater. Jesus calls us to follow him, and the Holy Spirit empowers us to persist in times of doubt and uncertainty, to withstand persecution, to speak truth to power, to keep the faith, and to keep our hands on the plow and hold on.

Some days, it feels like too much. Some days, we feel we just can’t go on. It’s only natural for us to look back, to second-guess, and to question the wisdom of following this man called Jesus.

And that, sisters and brothers, is why we need the saints.

We need the company of the saints, past and present, who have been this way before, who have paved the path we now trod, who have run and not grown weary, who have walked and not been faint.

We look to the saints to lead the way:

Mary Magdalene, the first to share the Good News of the resurrection when others scoffed; 

Paul and Silas, who persisted through imprisonment and persecution; 

Martin and Katie Luther, standing firm on the promises of Christ our king; 

Dietrich Bonhoeffer, risking everything for what he knew was right, following Jesus even to the gallows;

  

Dorothy Day, who lived her life among the poor of New York City, laying one brick at a time in the fight against poverty and hunger; 

Martin Luther King, Jr. and all the civil rights prophets, who dreamed that all whom God created has created equal would be treated as such in schools, in courts of law, and in the voting booth; 

And this week we look to Nelson Mandela, anti-apartheid activist, ex-prisoner, and former president of South Africa, who even now is nearing the end of his earthly journey. Along with each of the others I mentioned, Mandela would certainly balk at being called a saint. “I am not a saint, unless you think of a saint as a sinner who keeps on trying,” he once said.

Whether saint or sinner, Nelson Mandela stands as one among many who kept his hands on the plow and held on, pushing forward against unimaginable opposition, keeping his eyes on the prize of freedom, justice, and equality for all of God’s children.

My sisters and brothers in Christ, discipleship is costly. It requires a single-mindedness and focus that we do not possess on our own. Like the would-be followers in today’s Gospel text, we may find ourselves eager to follow but easily discouraged; we may hear the call of Christ but feel the tug of other responsibilities and priorities; we may even take our place at the plow and then struggle to hold on to the faith. It’s only natural.

But even so, Christ calls you to follow him! He calls you—with Bishop Kawak of Damascus, and with Mavis, Gene, Kim, Konrad, and Sharon of Bethany Lutheran in Crystal Lake—to join him on the journey, looking neither right nor left, but keeping your eyes only on him. Through the power of the cross—and in the company of the saints—our Lord will guide us into all truth. Go, and proclaim the kingdom of God! Amen.

2nd Sunday in Lent

2^nd Sunday in Lent: March 4, 2012

Mark 8:31-38

Preacher: Pr. Carrie B. Smith

Grace and peace to you from God our Father and the Lord Jesus Christ. Amen.

When I was a brand-new college student at Oklahoma State University—a freshman eager to begin my studies as a piano major—I thought I knew exactly what it meant to be a musician. After all, my dad was a music professor, and my grandfather had spent his entire career as a high school band director. One whole side of my family was involved in music in one way or another, and I had always known I would be following in their footsteps. The only difference, of course, is that I would be a performer, not a teacher like my relatives. I walked into the music department that first day ready to begin my glorious career as a professional pianist.

But first, there was an assembly of all freshmen music majors. A professor stood to welcome us to the program, and then he said: “I know you all want to be musicians. But if there is anything else you can do in life—if there is anything at all that will make you happy and fulfilled outside of this profession—you should do it. The life of a musician is hard. Most of you won’t make it. You’ll need side jobs to make ends meet. Only a few of you will have a go at a career. So if you think you can be happy doing anything else—go do it.”

How’s that for a pep talk? But of course, he was right. The life of a musician is rarely one of glitz and glory. Record deals, NPR interviews and concert dates at Carnegie Hall are few and far between. The reality of life as a musician is long hours in the practice room, late night gigs at senior proms, playing in a wedding polka band to pay the bills, and working every other waking hour at Subway. It’s a hard life, and not one to be entered into lightly. You should know what you’re getting into.

When Jesus gathered his disciples together in the days just before he entered Jerusalem, he gave them a similar sort of reality check:

³¹Then he began to teach them that the Son of Man must undergo great suffering, and be rejected by the elders, the chief priests, and the scribes, and be killed, and after three days rise again. ³²He said all this quite openly.

The disciple Peter didn’t like this pep talk one bit! In fact, he had the nerve to disagree with Jesus and rebuke him in front of the others: “No way, Jesus! I refuse to believe it! It doesn’t have to be that way!” I can picture Peter as the starry-eyed freshman music major, determined that these words weren’t for him—it can’t really be the way he is describing--he would certainly be a star, no matter what the professor said.

But Jesus, turning and looking at his disciples, rebuked Peter right back and said,

“Get behind me, Satan! For you are setting your mind not on divine things but on human things.”

And then, gathering the whole crowd around to listen along with the disciples, Jesus continued his “come to Jesus” speech:

“If any want to become my followers, let them deny themselves and take up their cross and follow me. ³⁵For those who want to save their life will lose it, and those who lose their life for my sake, and for the sake of the gospel, will save it.”

Scripture tells us that Jesus said all these things “quite openly.” The time had come to get real about what discipleship would mean after Galilee, and especially after Jerusalem and Golgotha. Following Jesus would no longer mean being a roadie, on tour to new villages to see his astonishing teaching, healing, and feeding miracles. Now, according to Jesus, if you wanted to be his disciple, you would be carrying a cross, and losing your life. Not exactly glamorous or full of glory, is it? But, it’s a hard life, and you should know what you’re getting into.

This appears to be a terrible marketing strategy. It’s hard to imagine anyone signing up for voluntary cross-carrying duty as a lifestyle. And perhaps this is why we rarely speak “quite openly” about the realities of life as a follower of Jesus Christ. Instead, we focus on the attractive qualities of the Christian life in general, and church in particular. When we do speak openly, we often present the situation like this: (Yes, these are all real phrases from Chicagoland church websites)

· “You're invited to check out our church this Sunday for creative teaching, meaningful worship, an unforgettable kids program and a church that knows how to have fun! We provide complimentary coffee.”

· Or we extend invitations like this one: “If you're looking for a church home, we'd love for you to come by and see if we're a good fit. We believe God is in a good mood, and His heart is for you.”

· We create state of the art websites that promote our “talented live band and a style consistent with today’s culture” as well as “dynamic guest speakers from around the world”. We might even include a link for purchasing “bold Christian apparel.”

· And in a last ditch effort to get people in the door, we promise that “All weekend services last for ninety minutes – you can always expect them to start and end on time.”

Now, just to be clear, I have no problem with most of these individual features of Christian worship or of our life together on Sunday mornings. In fact, complimentary coffee, good music and services that start on time are a definite draw for me! But I wonder how different it would be if we told the truth, quite openly, about what Christian discipleship is like the other days of the week.

I wonder what it would be like for us to say, quite openly, something like this:

· If you want to follow Jesus, you’ll have to leave your own priorities and values at the door.

· If you want to follow Jesus, you’ll spend less time in the church and more time on the streets.

· If you want to follow Jesus, keep in mind that the church won’t always conform to your needs, but Christ always transforms you for his needs.

· If you want to follow Jesus, you should know that suffering goes beyond sitting through a bad sermon or eight verses of a hymn. As a disciple, you will carry the sufferings of others in your heart and on your back.

Perhaps this also is a crummy marketing campaign. On the other hand, being a Christian isn’t easy, and you should know what you’re getting into.

The time has come to tell the truth about Christian discipleship. Why? Because Jesus was quite open about the necessity of picking up your cross to follow him. But we confuse the message:

1. We either bypass the cross altogether and promise people they will find a life of perfect joy and no pain if they become a Christian; or:

2. We confuse our own personal life struggles with Jesus’ invitation to discipleship.

The first problem—leading others to believe that being a Christian is all sunshine and rainbows—results in new disciples who feel side-swiped and lied to when the struggles of life don’t disappear upon joining the church.

But the second problem—confusing our own sufferings with Jesus’ invitation to discipleship—is also a lie. We get a cancer diagnosis, or we have a problem teenager, or we lose our job, and we find ourselves saying: “Ah yes, this is the cross I must bear.”

And indeed: Cancer sucks. Unemployment is heart-breaking and home-ruining. Burying a loved one is unimaginably hard. It takes a mountain of faith and strong shoulders to bear such crosses. But these sufferings are not the cross of discipleship! Suffering and grief are the result of a broken and sinful world, which the cross of Jesus Christ has redeemed.

When Jesus says “Take up your cross and follow me”, he’s not speaking to the cancer patient—he’s speaking to the one standing by the bed of the cancer patient. He’s speaking to the neighbor of the jobless father. He’s speaking to the friends of the struggling or grieving parent. And he says: “You there—yes, you!—pick up that cross and follow me.”

If you want to be a disciple, take up the sufferings of your neighbor. Lighten their load. Walk next to them. Go where they are going, even if (and especially if) it leads to suffering and death.

If you want to be a disciple, stand with the Kearns family as they grieve the loss of Jennifer, age 19—not only for many hours at the visitation, but in the months and years to come.

If you want to be a disciple, be there for the Vito family, helping Kelly with the burden of raising a family without Frank.

If you want to be a disciple, stand with the illegal, homeless, unpopular, mentally ill, foreclosed upon, imprisoned, heretical, or just plain unpleasant people in your midst, even if it means you, too, are reviled and ridiculed and gossiped about.

If you want to be a disciple, speak out—quite openly—when the speech, actions, and laws of others cause your neighbor to suffer.

Dietrich Bonhoeffer, a Lutheran pastor who was hanged for attempting to assassinate Adolf Hitler, once wrote: “How is a disciple to know which is his or her cross? We receive it upon entering the discipleship of the suffering Lord, and come to recognize it in the community of Jesus.”

It is by living in community—worshipping, praying, laughing, crying, and breaking bread together, that we learn the cross we are to bear. We will know it when we see the suffering of our neighbor. We will know it when the love of God in Christ Jesus compels us to reach out and pick it up. And with the help of Christ, our Savior—and in his footsteps—we carry our neighbor’s cross, for the sake of the Gospel.

Jesus said: “If any want to become my followers, let them deny themselves and take up their cross and follow me. ³⁵For those who want to save their life will lose it, and those who lose their life for my sake, and for the sake of the gospel, will save it.” It’s a strange marketing strategy. It’s an unpopular church growth model! But faith tells us this: The way of the cross is also the way of life, and hope, and resurrection. This is the Gospel of Jesus Christ! This is God’s Good News, which is poured out on us and which we receive, quite openly, in the Word, in the waters of baptism, in bread and wine, and through the cross-bearing love of our Christian brothers and sisters. Amen.

January 22, 2012: Five More Minutes

Third Sunday after Epiphany: January 22, 2012
Mark 1:14-20
“Five More Minutes”
Preacher: Pastor Carrie B. Smith

Grace and peace to you from God our Father and the Lord Jesus Christ. Amen.

Five. More. Minutes.

These are perhaps the three most frustrating words in the English language.
When I was first married, these were the words that greeted me many mornings, when I would casually mention to my new husband that now might be the time to wake up and go to College Algebra. “Five more minutes,” he would groan, to which I would frequently respond, in five of his favorite words: “I. Am. Not. Your. Mother.”

But then, one day, I was someone’s mother! And soon I heard those three words almost nightly when it was time for bed. “Five more minutes! I’m almost done with this level! I just need to save my game! Just five more minutes, PLEASE?!”

There was one—and only one—time when I truly enjoyed hearing those three little words. It was a school day morning, and my younger son was sitting on the floor of the living room, jacket on, backpack already strapped to his back, trying to finish a particularly good book (The Hunger Games, I think). When I told him it was time to hurry on to the bus stop, he looked up at me with teary eyes and pleaded, “Five more minutes! Please?”

How could I refuse? Five pages and five minutes later, I happily drove him to school.

Five more minutes—it’s a seemingly simple request, but it’s also a very convenient (and much-loved) avoidance technique.

All of which makes me consider the immediate response of the fishermen in today’s Gospel reading from St. Mark, the first chapter. Jesus walked along the Sea of Galilee, calling out to Simon and Andrew, James and John, and the scriptures tell us they “immediately” left their nets and boats and followed him. Not in five minutes, but now.

And this is how we know they weren’t Lutherans.

Lutherans would have held some meetings first. Lutherans would have tabled the discussion for awhile and formed a task force. If a decision couldn’t be reached, they would have split into a few synods, each claiming to be more faithful than the other. If those first disciples had been Lutherans, I’ll bet they would have found a way to bring their boats with them—or at least their favorite seats in the boat!

Meanwhile, Jesus remains on the shore, calling out with his simple invitation: “Follow me, and I will make you fish for people.” Softly and tenderly, Jesus is still calling us to new life, new opportunities, and new ways of being in the world—and we put it off until later, determined to attend to our own agenda first. Rather than responding immediately like those first eager disciples, our answer is often something like “Five more minutes, Lord.”

“Just five more minutes! We’re happy here in our boats, with our nets, catching fish. It’s comfortable here! After all, this is the way we’ve always done it. Fishing for people sounds interesting—but not today.Following you sounds like a good opportunity—for someone else. But I tell you what: give us your cell number, Jesus, and we’ll call you later.”

To be fair, we have lots of practice at putting things off for later, because time is always an issue. With iPhones and iPads,professional organizing services and automatic bill payments, we should have more time than ever. But when are you going to actually read that story to your kids? When will you have dinner with those friends you haven’t seen in ages? When are you taking that vacation, or taking your spouse on a date? When are you going back to school for that degree? When are you finally going to say you’re sorry?

“Five more minutes. Just five more minutes is all I need.”

To which Martin Luther once replied, “How soon NOT NOW becomes NEVER.”

And his namesake, Martin Luther King, Jr., whose birthday we celebrated this week, famously wrote, “The time is always ripe to do what is right.”

Dr. King wrote these words in his “Letter from a Birmingham Jail”, and you might be surprised to learn they weren’t directed at the racists and bigots who were opposing the fight for civil rights. Instead, these strong words were intended for well-meaning Christians (some of them
pastors) who thought King was moving too fast. He wrote:

“I received a letter this morning from a white brother in Texas which said: "All Christians know that the colored people will receive equal rights eventually, but is it possible that you are in too great of a religious hurry? It has taken Christianity almost 2,000 years to accomplish what it has. The teachings of Christ take time to come to earth."
Dr. King’s letter continues:

“I am coming to feel that the people of ill will have used time much more effectively than the
people of good will. We will have to repent in this generation not merely for the vitriolic words and actions of the bad people, but for the appalling silence of the good people. We must come to see that human progress never rolls in on wheels of inevitability. It comes through the tireless efforts and persistent work of men willing to be co-workers with God, and without this hard work time itself becomes an ally of the forces of social stagnation. We must use time creatively, and forever realize that the time is always ripe to do right.”

When we respond to the call of Jesus with “Five more minutes, Lord”; when we stay on the boat;
when we put off for later what God wants done now—then we contribute to the appalling silence of the good people. We remain fence-sitters and pew-warmers rather than co-workers with God.

And so today, when we hear this familiar Gospel lesson about Jesus calling the first disciples, it both inspires and convicts us. When we hear about those fishermen who immediately got off the boat, it’s easy to recognize the ways in which we, time after time, have missed the boat because we stayed on the boat!

And perhaps I could end the sermon here, while we pass around sign-up sheets for the various ministry and service opportunities at Bethany Lutheran Church. We could be overrun right now—immediately!—with volunteers for PADs and Sunday School and the Green Team! Let’s get out of the boat and fish for people! Amen?

But wait: there’s more!

To be sure, this Gospel lesson is focused chiefly on how—and when—we respond to the call of Jesus. It’s a story about time, and how we use it. But this story also teaches us about how God uses time.
Scripture tells us that Jesus came walking along the Sea of Galilee at a certain moment in time:
his friend and mentor, John the Baptist, had just been arrested. This was a difficult time to be a prophet, and laying low might have been the wiser choice for Jesus. But Jesus instead went to Galilee, boldly proclaiming the Good News and calling out to anyone who would listen (even fishermen on their boats).

And the Good News of God that Jesus was proclaiming, the message that he would not let be
censored or suppressed, went something like this:
“The time is fulfilled, and the kingdom of God has come near.”

Other Bible translations put it this way: “The time has come!” or sometimes “The right time has come.”
But my favorite, from the Message Version of the Gospels, goes like this:

“Time’s up! God’s kingdom is here!”

Time’s up! No more waiting for the Messiah! No more living in darkness! No more struggling to
gain God’s approval! No more reaching toward the unattainable goal of perfection! For, as it is
written in Galatians chapter 4:
“When the fullness of time had come, God sent his Son, born of a woman, born under the law, in order to redeem those who were under the law, so that we might receive adoption as children.”

In the fullness of time—at just the right time--we received the gift of Jesus Christ, our Savior, our Redeemer, our healer, and our brother. The God who loves us saw fit to end our waiting and make us adopted children of God. This happened at just the right time—and this is the Good News! This is the message Jesus calls us to join in sharing with the world.

Not in five minutes. Not when we’re comfortable or when we’re sure everyone will agree with us—but NOW.

When we get out of the boat, Bethany Lutheran, when we leave our nets behind, we are free to join Jesus in proclaiming to the world: “Time’s up!”

For racism and bigotry, wherever we find it: Time’s up!
For poverty in our backyard and around the world: Time’s up!
For hatred of those who are different: Time’s up!
For apathy, greed, and indifference: Time’s up!

Time’s up, sisters and brothers, because the kingdom of God has come near. Jesus calls us
to follow him, and the time is now. Amen.