The following is a sermon I preached for the opening worship of our synod's candidacy retreat, at which all the candidates for ordination (or other rostered leadership positions) come together to talk with candidacy committee members, who then make decisions about the next steps in the candidate's process. I serve as the chaplain for this event.
Candidacy
Retreat
May 1, 2014
2 Corinthians
4:1-12
Mark 10:35-45
I was baptized on
August 28, 1983. I always remember this date, for a few reasons. I had a felt
banner that hung on the door of my childhood bedroom, with a cross, and water, and a dove,
my full name, and the date of my baptism, so I saw it every day. And then every
year on my baptism birthday (my “rebirthday,” if you will), my parents brought
out the special candle I was given at my baptism, and they lit it. They made
sure I remembered.
Now,
there is another reason I remember my baptism date. After I received my first
call, I went about finding a date for my ordination, which would take place in
the congregation in California where I grew up. The bishop gave me a couple
dates, and it looked like the one that would work the best for everyone was…
August 28. The anniversary of my baptism.
I
loved the coincidence and continuity of this, but as I have continued in ministry,
I have appreciated more and more the repeated instruction in it. When it comes
down to it, it was my baptism that called me, wasn’t it? My ordination set me apart
for a particular sort of ministry, yes, but it was my baptism, when I was washed in the life-giving water
which by grace gives new birth through the Holy Spirit, that
equipped me and formed me for that ministry. The shared date of these two
important events continues to instruct me on what this odd and wondrous calling
means. And to be honest, remembering that the root of my call came from the
very same place as the call of every member of the Body of Christ, and that
everyone’s baptismal call is just as important as mine – the shared date also
keeps me humble.
Humility…
That can be a trick sometimes, huh? James and John, the so-called “Sons of
Thunder,” show us that in our Gospel lesson this morning. They are a colorful
pair, and the passage we heard a moment ago is not the only time that their
shenanigans have made me roll my eyes. How pompous, we think, what nerve! To
ask Jesus to give them anything they ask? To say, so carelessly, “Yeah yeah,
Jesus, we can drink the cup you drink and be baptized with your baptism and all
that. No problem.” They have no idea what they are agreeing to! It’s no wonder
the other ten disciples get angry with those couple of doofuses. Surely, I
think, I would never be so full of
myself as all that! Surely, I would
never presume to tell Jesus to do whatever I want, whatever I think is right,
and assume to be able to do whatever is needed with no problem at all. No way…
But
ah, how the gospel convicts. In truth, that is exactly what I do, time and time
again: whenever I enter into any activity without first praying to and with my
God; whenever I do pray, but my prayer is anything but “thy will be done”; whenever I make plans according to whatever I
think is right, and I am left perplexed, persecuted, or struck down when they
do not come out as I had hoped. Serving in the church does not shield us from
these discouragements – and perhaps they cut even more deeply in this setting,
because, after all, we’re trying to serve God here! But in fact, these are
realities of the Christian life – the Christian life we were called to when we
were baptized. We work, and serve and do the best we can… but still, it is hard
sometimes not to lose heart, to doubt ourselves or others, even to doubt God,
to be frustrated and discouraged and perplexed and disappointed. Maybe, in
fact, that was how those famed Sons of Thunder were feeling that day of their
pompous request – like they were losing control of their lives, confused and
discouraged by the fact that Jesus has just foretold his death for the third
time, concerned about what the future might hold. I can’t say I wouldn’t have sought
some control in that situation, too.
When
I feel this way, I find it helpful to look to that famous passage we just heard
from Corinthians – which, by the way, was read at my ordination. “Therefore,
since it is by God’s mercy that we are engaged in this ministry, we do not lose
heart.” As I started this sermon, I was remembering that line as “do not lose
heart.” But no, it isn’t an imperative so much as a statement of fact: We do not
lose heart. We do not lose heart because it is God’s mercy that called us, in our baptism, to this ministry. We do
not lose heart because this doesn’t depend on us so much as it depends on God.
We do not lose heart because God has shown us again and again how God shines
light into darkness, and brings life out of death. We do not lose heart because
God is the potter, and we are but clay jars, equipped to hold the treasure that
is the gospel, but not to create it.
I
love that metaphor, “clay jars.” Like remembering that it is baptism that calls
me just like everyone else, it is humbling to recognize that I am a mere clay
jar, frail and weak, subject to being broken, chipped, or cracked. We are just
earthen vessels, not too fancy, not too attractive, just ordinary people with
ordinary talents and ordinary problems and ordinary desires.
And
it is our very ordinary-ness and humility and vulnerability that makes it
possible for God’s extra-ordinary
power to shine through. We may think our ideas are pretty stellar, that Jesus
should do whatever we ask, but whatever great things we think we’re going to
do, God pretty much always responds, “Ehh, I’ve got something else in mind. Why
don’t you just let me decide how I’m
going to use you?”
And
God does. God takes our cracks and through them makes light shine in darkness.
God takes our missteps and uses them to lead us out of death into life. God
takes our vulnerability and uses it to make God’s love known to the world.
Let us pray… God, our Potter: we are just a bunch of clay jars, but still, you have
called each us in baptism to participate in your love. Help us to see that our
cracks are places your light can shine, and equip us to serve you in ways we
never could have imagined ourselves. In the name of the Father, the Son, the
Holy Spirit. Amen.
No comments:
Post a Comment