Jeremiah 1:4-10
Jeremiah, that old crusty prophet, was a boy once. Of course, every crusty old guy was a boy at some point. And today, we find crusty, old Jeremiah as a boy, receiving his call. It’s quite a moment for sure. We usually think of Jeremiah in his later years. Pictures of him throughout the centuries abound—he is old and has a beard. And that’s how we likely think of him. But there in chapter one that we heard this morning, he’s a boy. And that’s how the picture on the front of your bulletin depicts him; as a boy in wonder at all that’s happening to him.
He’s somewhat timid about this call thing. He protests immediately once God called him to the prophecy biz. And I can’t blame him. Being a prophet is no easy task. And here’s Jeremiah, boy Jeremiah, being told he has to point out the wrongs of nations to those very nations and their leaders. Yikes. I would have likely run in the other direction. But Jeremiah sticks around long enough to complain. And that’s when God gets him.
Jeremiah stays and puts up useless argument after useless argument only to have God touch him on the lips and say, “There; now you have my words to speak.” Once that was done, it was no use complaining. There was no getting out of it. Jeremiah was God’s for sure.
It’s funny who God calls and to what God calls them. Jeremiah: the boy who can’t speak is turned into one of the greatest prophets humanity has ever seen or heard. It’s a simple matter really: God calls and someone responds. How often is the response like Jeremiah’s though? How often does God call and the response God hears is filled with excuses and reasons the callee shouldn’t be called? It’s no different today than it was in the last quarter of the 7th century bce when Jeremiah received his call, all those centuries ago.
We tend to think of pastors and those who lead a professional religious life (such as nuns and monks) as being called. But clearly God calls beyond those who aren’t clergy. God calls everyone into ministry. Yes, each of us here today is called; not just Jeremiah, not just me.
There are a couple ways that you might feel called. You might be called to a profession, or vocation. You may feel God’s hand to have led you into that work you do on a daily basis. Certainly this is a valid call from God. Thanks heavens God doesn’t call everyone to be a clergyperson. What a mess this world would be if God did! But there are faithfilled vocations outside the clergy to which God calls.
What difference does it make if you perform your work as if you were called to it? Well, hopefully a large difference. Those called to their vocation will do their work intentionally, as if God were leading them throughout the workday. Now this doesn’t mean that those who claim and recognize that God has called them to their vocation always do their work cheerfully and with a contented smile on their face. No, indeed not. There are bad days and rough times; even for those who see their work as their call.
But there’s an intentionality about the called person’s work. Those who prayerfully listen for God’s call and follow it as closely as they can, find some degree of satisfaction and fulfillment that those who don’t feel called to their work feel.
Several years ago, when we were in New York City, before I was ordained, I was in a position from which I took no joy and felt no satisfaction. As I was talking about this to the mentor of a friend of mine, she simply said, “Well, you aren’t called to it.” I suddenly felt a realization about this job that I had never been able to define. I soon left that job and moved on to other places where I felt my gifts and talents more closely fit with my call.
But there is another way to be called that I want to mention today: that of being called to an avocation; called outside your vocation to work that needs to be done. Many of us are called this way. Our avocations are those things we do outside of our everyday work, beyond our so-called professions. Many of us answer those calls through church.
Tutoring at Homework Central may be one such call. Serving on the church board or as an officer may be yet another call. (I say this with some trepidation, since the nominating committee met just yesterday and some may respond now to our requests for leadership with “I don’t feel called.”) But God clearly calls us to labor outside of our vocations to work that furthers God’s realm here on earth.
We are an active congregation, there’s no doubt about that. And if we examine ourselves, we may find that this activity comes out of a sense of call from God; both individually and corporately. We need people in this world to feel called to do the ministry of work beyond our walls so that as a congregation we can still respond to God’s call to us.
How do you tell if your call is real? Well one indication is that your gifts and talents will align with the need that is part of the call. And each call that God issues involves a need. There is much need in our world today. God knows it and recognizes it but only has us to do the work; us and other faithful people throughout the world. We know our call is real when we see the need that is out there and realize that we can do something to change it. We know our call is real when the abilities we have been given match up with some need. We know our call is real when God provides us with what we need to get the work done.
You may not be called to be a prophet like Jeremiah. You may not be called to speak out against the powers and principalities. But then again you might. You just might find yourself using gifts you never knew you had. But God calls you. There is no doubt of that. Because God calls each one of us since there is such a great need in our world.
Prayerfully examine where God is calling you. And don’t think that if you’re retired you’re exempt from being called. God calls at all ages and expects a response. Let God touch your lips as God touched Jeremiah’s lips all those years ago. Let God touch your life and reach in and pull out the best in you. Follow your call, wherever it might lead you. God will go with you.
12 August 2007
Hebrews 11:1-3, 8-16
What do you think about when you hear the word “faith?” What comes first to mind?
Faith is a slippery thing. It doesn’t define easily. You have faith, keep the faith, are faithful, and faithfully do something. It’s sort of over and against theology, which we’re used to struggling with. In fact, Frederick Buechner says, “Faith is different from theology because theology is reasoned, systematic, and orderly, whereas faith is disorderly, intermittent, and full of surprises…Faith is homesickness. Faith is a lump in the throat. Faith is less a position on than a movement toward, less a sure thing than a hunch. Faith is waiting" (Secrets in the Dark: A Life in Sermons).
Faith is a funny thing. We each in this room, I’m presuming, profess to have one. But ask us to define it and we might end up squirming a little. And how many people we have here is how many different expressions and understandings of faith there would be. Especially since we are Disciples of Christ; no one is going to tell us what our faith is! “No creed but Christ” is nice for allowing us to struggle with our faith, but isn’t very useful when it comes to defining who we are.
The author of the book of Hebrews puts faith in a succinct way: “Now faith is the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen.” Faith, according to this author, involves assurance, hope, conviction and things not seen. Let’s look at this more closely.
Assurance; what does that involve and who is doing the assuring? Well, we would say that God is doing the assuring. Assuring us that God is there and knows about our faith. Assurance is a calming presence. It allows us to relax a little. Assurance provides a base for us to stand on and not worry. It is a promise; a promise that we are God’s and God hears us.
Hope is a little more difficult. We tend to mix up hope. We think of hope as wishing for a parking space or a cure for a disease, though those can be important hopes. But I think the author of Hebrews was going deeper; talking about a hope that transcends these worldly cares. The hope the author was talking about is more along the lines of hoping for better things than this world; hoping for God’s realm to come in; hoping for justice and peace to fill the world. The hope that helps to define faith is deep and lasting and brings us to a better place.
Conviction. That’s the next element in this author’s definition of faith; conviction of things not seen. We are convinced about our faith. We have to be. Now don’t get me wrong; there is room for doubt and struggling with our faith. Jesus makes that clear throughout the gospels. But deep down, faith leads us to being convinced about Truth, with a capital T. We know there is a Truth out there that is bigger than we are. We know, deep down, perhaps so deep down that we can barely recognize it, that we are God’s and God claims us as God’s own. The conviction of which this author writes is one of a willingness to believe and hold something to be true.
And that brings us to the final element: things not seen. It’s a faith that doesn’t have visual confirmations. We’d like those at times, of course, but we don’t get them. Our faith is filled with unseen things. We can’t see our God; though he walked the earth at one point, Christ is unseen as is the Holy Spirit. A lot of our life is unseen. And our faith is no different. We can’t have visual proof.
So we deal with a faith that relies on our conviction of unseen things, while being assured of those things we hope for.
How often do you or this church do things out of faith? Do we step out in faith knowing that God will be there? That unseen, assured of God will see us through whatever actions we take in faith.
I have a bunch of quotes on my computer. I collect them there for the end of the weekly email newsletter. One of them deals directly with this. It is from Barbara J. Winter, who appears, from her website, to be an entrepreneur guru. She says: “When you come to the edge of all the light you know, and are about to step off into the darkness ... faith is knowing... there will be something solid to stand on, or you will be taught how to fly. “
Faith, our faith, is believing in a God who will be there to stand on or will teach us how to fly. We can’t see into the darkness of faith all the time. Sometimes we go forth into the unknown with only our faith to lead us on. We grope and stretch our arms out in an effort to get our bearings. But we use faith to know where we are. We use faith to locate ourselves in the darkness. We use faith to know that eventually the darkness will lift and we will be in the light of God once again.
It’s faith that allows us to operate amidst the swirling craziness of our world. In the midst of the oppression, racism, sexism, homophobia, the fear, the longing and the desires of a culture driven by greed and denial, we have this unseen faith to cling onto. We know that our faith will be the rock on which we can cling in the middle of the roaring sea of our society.
As I prepared for this sermon, I ran across an old friend; a prayer by Thomas Merton that I had learned when I was at my field education church in Boston 20 years ago. The prayer is a fitting conclusion not only to this sermon but also to this passage from Hebrews. Though it doesn’t mention faith directly, it clearly states the principles of faith we’ve talked about today. The prayer goes like this:
"My Lord God, I have no idea where I am going. I do not see the road ahead of me. I cannot know for certain where it will end. Nor do I really know myself, and the fact that I think that I am following your will does not mean that I am actually doing so. But I believe that the desire to please you does in fact please you. And I hope that I have that desire in all that I am doing. I hope that I will never do anything apart from that desire. And I know that if I do this, you will lead me by the right road though I may know nothing about it. Therefore will I trust you always though I may seem to be lost and in the shadow of death. I will not fear, for you are ever with me, and you will never leave me to face my perils alone." (Thoughts in Solitude, Thomas Merton)
What do you think about when you hear the word “faith?” What comes first to mind?
Faith is a slippery thing. It doesn’t define easily. You have faith, keep the faith, are faithful, and faithfully do something. It’s sort of over and against theology, which we’re used to struggling with. In fact, Frederick Buechner says, “Faith is different from theology because theology is reasoned, systematic, and orderly, whereas faith is disorderly, intermittent, and full of surprises…Faith is homesickness. Faith is a lump in the throat. Faith is less a position on than a movement toward, less a sure thing than a hunch. Faith is waiting" (Secrets in the Dark: A Life in Sermons).
Faith is a funny thing. We each in this room, I’m presuming, profess to have one. But ask us to define it and we might end up squirming a little. And how many people we have here is how many different expressions and understandings of faith there would be. Especially since we are Disciples of Christ; no one is going to tell us what our faith is! “No creed but Christ” is nice for allowing us to struggle with our faith, but isn’t very useful when it comes to defining who we are.
The author of the book of Hebrews puts faith in a succinct way: “Now faith is the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen.” Faith, according to this author, involves assurance, hope, conviction and things not seen. Let’s look at this more closely.
Assurance; what does that involve and who is doing the assuring? Well, we would say that God is doing the assuring. Assuring us that God is there and knows about our faith. Assurance is a calming presence. It allows us to relax a little. Assurance provides a base for us to stand on and not worry. It is a promise; a promise that we are God’s and God hears us.
Hope is a little more difficult. We tend to mix up hope. We think of hope as wishing for a parking space or a cure for a disease, though those can be important hopes. But I think the author of Hebrews was going deeper; talking about a hope that transcends these worldly cares. The hope the author was talking about is more along the lines of hoping for better things than this world; hoping for God’s realm to come in; hoping for justice and peace to fill the world. The hope that helps to define faith is deep and lasting and brings us to a better place.
Conviction. That’s the next element in this author’s definition of faith; conviction of things not seen. We are convinced about our faith. We have to be. Now don’t get me wrong; there is room for doubt and struggling with our faith. Jesus makes that clear throughout the gospels. But deep down, faith leads us to being convinced about Truth, with a capital T. We know there is a Truth out there that is bigger than we are. We know, deep down, perhaps so deep down that we can barely recognize it, that we are God’s and God claims us as God’s own. The conviction of which this author writes is one of a willingness to believe and hold something to be true.
And that brings us to the final element: things not seen. It’s a faith that doesn’t have visual confirmations. We’d like those at times, of course, but we don’t get them. Our faith is filled with unseen things. We can’t see our God; though he walked the earth at one point, Christ is unseen as is the Holy Spirit. A lot of our life is unseen. And our faith is no different. We can’t have visual proof.
So we deal with a faith that relies on our conviction of unseen things, while being assured of those things we hope for.
How often do you or this church do things out of faith? Do we step out in faith knowing that God will be there? That unseen, assured of God will see us through whatever actions we take in faith.
I have a bunch of quotes on my computer. I collect them there for the end of the weekly email newsletter. One of them deals directly with this. It is from Barbara J. Winter, who appears, from her website, to be an entrepreneur guru. She says: “When you come to the edge of all the light you know, and are about to step off into the darkness ... faith is knowing... there will be something solid to stand on, or you will be taught how to fly. “
Faith, our faith, is believing in a God who will be there to stand on or will teach us how to fly. We can’t see into the darkness of faith all the time. Sometimes we go forth into the unknown with only our faith to lead us on. We grope and stretch our arms out in an effort to get our bearings. But we use faith to know where we are. We use faith to locate ourselves in the darkness. We use faith to know that eventually the darkness will lift and we will be in the light of God once again.
It’s faith that allows us to operate amidst the swirling craziness of our world. In the midst of the oppression, racism, sexism, homophobia, the fear, the longing and the desires of a culture driven by greed and denial, we have this unseen faith to cling onto. We know that our faith will be the rock on which we can cling in the middle of the roaring sea of our society.
As I prepared for this sermon, I ran across an old friend; a prayer by Thomas Merton that I had learned when I was at my field education church in Boston 20 years ago. The prayer is a fitting conclusion not only to this sermon but also to this passage from Hebrews. Though it doesn’t mention faith directly, it clearly states the principles of faith we’ve talked about today. The prayer goes like this:
"My Lord God, I have no idea where I am going. I do not see the road ahead of me. I cannot know for certain where it will end. Nor do I really know myself, and the fact that I think that I am following your will does not mean that I am actually doing so. But I believe that the desire to please you does in fact please you. And I hope that I have that desire in all that I am doing. I hope that I will never do anything apart from that desire. And I know that if I do this, you will lead me by the right road though I may know nothing about it. Therefore will I trust you always though I may seem to be lost and in the shadow of death. I will not fear, for you are ever with me, and you will never leave me to face my perils alone." (Thoughts in Solitude, Thomas Merton)
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