This Week's Sermons

Sermons for the Month
Your Call
DATE: January 31, 1999
SERVICE: Epiphany IV
TEXT: I Corinthians 1:18-31
"To all of you Saints here this morning, grace and peace to you from God our Father, from His Son, Jesus Christ and His Holy Spirit. AMEN

There were always a few kids in school who knew from first grade on just what they wanted to be when they grew up. Remember the kid who wanted to be a doctor? He got junior chemistry sets, dissected earthworms, hung out at the science museum, took all the right classes, got summer jobs at labs and hospitals, and eventually happily trotted off to medical school.
Most of us, however, spend quite a bit of time shopping around before we finally find, or fall into, a profession that seems to suit our personality. The most popular childhood careers of firefighter, football player, ballerina and astronaut don't seem to be reflected in the numbers of adults actually involved in those pursuits. Most of us "settle" for the jobs we know need to be done or are the most available. When's the last time you heard a kid dreaming about growing up to be an office manager or a banker or an electrical line repairer. But all those jobs must be done and done well by someone, if we are to keep our businesses, our banks, our communities and our homes running smoothly.
One career choice that, for good or ill, has always put a lot of emphasis on hearing an early and persistent "calling" is the ministry - specifically those who seek formal ordination and see their identity as a recognized member of a profession. There are some who always knew they were "called" to ministry - the kids who conducted all the pet funerals, organized fake weddings, and held slightly spooky prayer vigils throughout their childhood. I have always told people who asked me about the ministry, don't become a minister unless God just won't let you alone.
Then there are those who experience a much more dramatic "calling" as the result of a transforming Damascus-Road moment in their lives. These are the men and women who may have been well-settled in either perfectly "normal," or sometimes more impressively in perfectly wicked lives. These are the men and women who may have said all their lives, "There's one thing I'll never consider becoming - a minister."
Then, suddenly, they are brought up short by the command of Christ on their lives. For these individuals a "calling" is more an identifiable moment than an unfolding work-in-progress.
In today's reading, from Paul's letter to the Corinthians, Paul affirms the miracle of living life under the power of a distinctive and discernable "call." He then goes on to urge the Corinthians, after taking a long, hard look at the wisdom of the world, to "consider [their] call" (v. 26) to be a witness to Jesus Christ.
Ironically, Paul does not see his "call" as an apostle to spend his life crafting eloquent theological discourses on the truths of Christ. Nor did he receive his "call" so that he could spend his active ministry re-enacting and extending the work of John the Baptist. In fact, Paul boasts that he has done only a minimal amount of baptizing, some of which seems to have almost entirely escaped his memory. Even more dramatic is Paul's insistence that, instead of speaking with great wisdom, he is proud to offer a message most of the world will deem "foolishness."
Our call, Paul says, is to simply "bear witness to the cross" of Jesus Christ: To reach the unchurched with the good news of Jesus; to equip them with a faith that works in real life; and to send them out to serve the world in the name of Christ.
But it's your call, Paul says. You have a choice here. You can follow the wisdom of this world, or the foolishness of the cross. To bring this into focus, Paul gently reflects with his Corinthian readers to "consider [their] call" (v. 26). "Not many of you were wise by human standards, not many were powerful, not many were of noble birth," he says (v. 26). Now he doesn't say they were all so apparently foolish, weak and ignoble. But rather, "not many." They were chosen of God nonetheless, chosen, not to cluster around some pastoral personality, or philosophical guru, but to proclaim the "message about the cross" (v. 18).
Furthermore, Paul does not see his own "calling" as cloning Christians under his personal sway and style. Paul's call is not to promote his "style"; Paul's call is to proclaim Christ. Paul's call is not to separate believers out from the larger body of Christ. Paul's call is the same as ours, to win people to the body of Christ. Paul's call is not to centerpiece a cadre of followers through the common bond of baptism. Paul's call is to bring all the baptized and reborn into unity "in Christ."
By rejecting any "guru" status for himself, Paul whittles down "call" to its most elementary but elemental bare bones. Anyone, including the Corinthians, can experience and enact Paul's version of this "call." For Paul, the work of our "call" is not found in being able to eloquently theologize or perform mystical rites for which one must be specially ordained. Nope. Paul insists that his only "call," and the true essence of any calling, is simply to "proclaim the gospel."
This call, Paul observes, isn't for everyone. It is reserved for those whose life is "in Christ Jesus" (v. 30). Paul makes a distinction between those who belong to an ethical organization that many call the church from those who a part of a community called the body of Jesus Christ. The special call to ministry the first-century Corinthians received, not to speak of millions of other men and women over the past two millennia, is the call to be gathered together "in Christ." And if in Christ, we are empowered by the one "who became for us wisdom from God, and righteousness and sanctification and redemption" (v. 30).
You are chosen material, sisters and brothers, though you might not know it, believe it, or feel worthy of it. But you are! If there is anyone here who has not yet heard the call, I must be candid. It will often come when you least expect it. David, the youngest of many brothers, had the choice while tending sheep when he was summoned by Samuel. Abraham was minding his own business in Ur. Jeremiah was a shy and unwilling youth. Walter Earl Fluker puts it this way: "God often calls us when we are running errands, doing the mundane, thankless chores of life. When we least expect it, we are elected. Moses, hiding out on the back side of the Midian desert, was running an errand when a bush started burning that would not be consumed until he faced Pharaoh. Isaiah was somewhere in the temple, performing his regular priestly duties, when the heavens came down and the Holy commissioned him to go to the valley. Ezekiel, performing his pastoral tasks in the Exile, was transported by divine limousine service to a valley filled with dry bones. Amos was out herding sheep and keeping sycamore trees when the voice came and compelled him to go to the valley. Andrew and Peter were fishing out on the Sea of Galilee when the Master called them from fishing to the valley.
"Martin King never thought he would meet Goliath when he returned to the South - but the valley was calling. The little brown barrister from India, Mahatma Gandhi, would never have guessed that he would challenge the hegemony of the great British Empire - but the valley was calling. When Mary McLeod Bethune took up residence in Daytona, she had no idea that she would become the savior of a generation of young black girls and boys - but the valley was calling. Way down in the Mississippi Delta, Fannie Lou Hamer never dreamed that she would rise from picking cotton to picking presidents - but the valley was calling. Malcolm Little (hustler, drug runner and ex-con) could not see the master plan to transform him from an underground capitalist to a prophet of the people - but the valley was calling. They were all just running errands, doing the mundane things, when the valley called. That's what happened the day David arrived on the scene - but history had other plans" ("Valley Calls," Pulpit 1.3 [Summer 1998], 36-37).
In Paul's definition of Jesus' call to witness, the work of the minister is not the dramatic, lifesaving, soul-scintillating work of firefighting, space-walking, ballet dancing or touchdown scoring. In reality, ministers are the office managers, the bank tellers, the electrical repairers: those who perform labors crucial to keeping things running smoothly. The glamorous, front-line work of "call," the show-stopping, high-profile, hot-stuff calling of ministry is simply "to proclaim the gospel," to live the truth of the "foolishness" of the cross which is in reality the "power of God."
Fleming Rutledge, in a sermon delivered at historic Trinity Church in the City of Boston, tells of an incident in his life that happened as he was "crossing the street near my parish in New York City. A taxi came roaring around the corner and knocked me to the pavement. A crowd gathered and the ambulance was called, but it took an unusually long time to arrive. It was 40 minutes before I was actually put on the gurney. In the meantime, I lay on the asphalt. I was aware of a lot of people standing around looking down at me. What I remember most about that long wait was the great distance between me on the concrete and the faces high above. In those minutes I very much needed someone to get down on the ground with me, to put a coat under my head, to hold my hand and stay down with me until help arrived .... Love comes down" (Fleming Rutledge, "The Love Olympics Go to Jerusalem," February 22, 1998). "Calls" are not spent high and lifted up. True "calls" are spent low and bent down.
A "Pontius Puddle" cartoon begins with "I wonder if God can really hear me."
The next frame shows Pontius praying, "Hey God! What should I do with my life?"
The third frame has a voice from heaven saying, "Feed the hungry, right injustice, work for peace."
"Just testing!" Pontius replies.
"Same here," God speaks back.
But its your call, my friends. It's your call.
AMEN