Sermon: On loving enemies (February 23, 2025)

Epiphany 7C
February 23, 2025
Luke 6:27-38

INTRODUCTION

If you thought last week’s readings were difficult, get ready: today’s are even tougher. As a reminder of where we left off, Jesus is still giving his sermon on a level place. He’s just finished all those blessings and woes that made us squirm last week, and now, he goes on to offer some of the most well-known and most difficult teachings in the Bible: hold onto your hats!

Our first reading is a part of the stunning conclusion of the Joseph Story. Joseph was the favorite son of Jacob, and despised by his brothers, who sold him into slavery and told their father he was dead. He was brought to Egypt, and a wild and at times traumatic turn of events has landed him in a position second only to the Pharaoh himself! Joseph, you see, was able to interpret the Pharaoh’s dreams, and anticipate and prepare for a seven-year famine across the land. When Joseph’s brothers show up at his doorstep, asking for help enduring the famine, he recognizes them, but they don’t recognize him. He has a little fun at their expense, but eventually he reveals his identity. And that’s the part we will hear today. 

These lessons may be well-known, but they are not easy! There will surely be something in today’s readings that really leaves a pit in your stomach. Let it, my friends. That is the Spirit trying to tell you something. Listen to those urgings of the Spirit. Let’s listen. 

[READ]

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

Well, if you thought the part of Jesus’ Sermon on the Level Place that we heard last week was difficult, this week, it gets even more so, as Jesus describes what life looks like when we take the previous blessings and woes seriously, when we really do strive to level the playing field and love the way God loves. In this sermon, Jesus urges us to do things that go against our sensibilities and our self-protecting tendencies, even things that may offend us: love your enemies, pray for those who abuse you, turn the other cheek, be merciful, don’t judge lest ye be judged, forgive, and of course the rule so important that every major religion has a version of it, so valuable that we call it “golden” – do unto others as you would have them do until you. 

I am finding these instructions in faithfulness especially difficult to follow these days, and I know I’m not alone, because many of you and others in my life have openly expressed this difficulty! It seems impossible to be merciful and forgiving, to refrain from judgment, to pray for those who want to hurt us – and let alone to love all these people – when we are feeling angry, frustrated, or discouraged, when our concerns are belittled, when we, or our faith or values are attacked. How can we love someone whose beliefs, words or actions are actively causing harm to us, or to people we care about? How can we love our enemies?

These are important questions, worth spending some time on. So, let’s start with understanding a couple of key terms: love, and enemies. 

First, enemies – what qualifies as an enemy? Theologically speaking, “the Enemy” is Sin, or, the sinful human condition, which causes us to turn away from God and act in ways that bring about brokenness in our relationships with God and others, rather than the healing and wholeness God desires. With that in mind, someone might be seen as an “enemy” if something about our experience with or perception of that person stands in the way of us living out the gospel, living in the way God calls us to live. Let me say that again: someone might be seen as an “enemy” if something about our experience with or perception of that person keeps us from living in the way God calls us to live.

Now, that can look a lot of different ways. An enemy may simply bring out the worst in you, so you find your thoughts less charitable, and even vindictive. They might push your buttons in ways that make you lash out in anger, causing harm not only to your relationship with that person, but with others, too. An enemy might cause you to feel hopeless and despairing, losing sight of your faith in a loving God who always wins. An enemy might not care one bit about you, or even know you exist, yet they have a power over your heart and your life that makes it difficult to practice more loving, gospel-like behaviors – like compassion, or empathy, or simply sitting with another in their pain and listening, or even seeking forgiveness, healing, and reconciliation.

Can you think of people who have that effect on you? 

        Much as I hate to admit it, I sure can! 

These are the people Jesus wants us to try to love, to treat with the compassion we’d want to be treated with, and yes, even, to forgive. These are the interactions Jesus wants us to rise above, so that we do not get derailed in our efforts to live out the gospel of love, life, mercy, forgiveness, grace, and reconciliation – even with people with whom we’d rather not have to interact at all. 

Now, to be clear, none of this means that we condone evil behavior. That’s a common misconception about love, forgiveness and compassion: that loving, or forgiving someone, or seeking to understand why they are behaving the way they are, are akin to excusing or accepting their behavior. It is not. Remember, the goal here is to live a God-centered, gospel-driven life, and that life requires action, especially action that serves the poor. Plus, Jesus’ whole thing is to defeat sin and death, not to tell us to accept sin as our inconvertible reality. So, to that end, let’s move on to define what Jesus does mean here by love, in respect to our enemies.

The first tip comes from the topography I mentioned last week – you remember where Jesus is preaching this sermon? Luke tells us that Jesus is on “a level place,” on the same level as the poor, the hungry, the weeping. Let’s go ahead and assume that the enemy, whoever that is for us, is also on that same level place. So, the first step toward loving our enemy is this: to see them on a level place, no higher and no lower than we are. Because here is something that is true for every single human that ever lived: we are all sinners in need of God’s grace. We all have good in us, and, we all have the capacity for evil. We all have logs in our own eyes. And remembering that is true about not only our enemy, but also ourselves, and, committing to a bit of self-examination and repentance, puts us in a posture of humility that is essential if we have any hope of loving authentically. So step one: approach others with humility.

The second tip comes from a wonderful little Lutheran resource, The Small Catechism, and specifically Luther’s explanation of the 8th commandment, “you shall not bear false witness.” Luther explains that not only should we avoid lying about our neighbor (even our enemy), but also, “We are to come to our neighbor’s defense, speak well of them, and [now this is the kicker] interpret everything they do in the best possible light.” In other words, rather than presupposing malice or selfishness in their words or actions, presuppose the best intentions. Assume they are doing the best they can given their circumstances and knowledge. Assume that if they are acting hurtfully, they are probably doing so because they are, themselves, hurting. Seeing our enemy through these eyes assures that we don’t vilify them, but continue to see them as fellow human being – broken people, just like all of us. So step two: assume best intentions.

The next tip is where it gets tricky (I know, it already was tricky!). So far, we’ve only done self-reflection. But there is also an active, outward-facing part of love. So first, we can, as Jesus suggests, pray for our enemies – not pray that an anvil would fall on their head like the evil looney toon we think they are. But pray for them to know God’s presence in their lives, that God would guide their ways so they would be pleasing to God. I know, sometimes such prayer feels like, “What’s the point? They’re not gonna change,” but I can tell you – while I believe in the power of prayer to change the world, often the change that happens is more in you than it is in them. When you pray for someone (for, not against!), you can’t help but find your heart softened toward them. It does make it easier to view and to treat them with love. 

But, I also think there is room for correction within this love imperative. As I said before, I do not think loving or forgiving someone means you roll over and let them continue in their evil ways. The prophets frequently corrected people’s behavior, as did Jesus himself. In fact, just before this passage, he issued a series of “woes” – a sort of warning, to turn away from evil ways: ways that are harmful to God’s children, and in particular, to God’s most vulnerable children; away from ways that allow the oppressor to continue to dominate; ways that prevent people from walking in the ways of righteousness. This is the part of loving enemies that must be done with the most care, for when we are too passionate in our rebuke, it can be anything but loving (and will not be heard); and if we are too docile, it lacks the necessary impact to move people toward a change. So how do we split the difference?

This is why we must start with all that inner work I talked about a moment ago. We must approach this action with humility, and the knowledge that we are on a level place, each playing host to plenty of both logs and specks in our own eyes. We are all sinners in need of grace. We must assume the best intentions of the other, striving to understand with compassion and empathy why they might be behaving the way they are. And we must pray – for them, and also for ourselves, since our broken human ways can be our own worst enemy at times! Pray, so that whatever words or actions we exchange, they are infused with God’s gracious guidance.

This is such hard work, friends, loving our enemies, and it cannot be done on our own. But with God’s help, this is the sort of love that changes the world. Jesus is right – it is easy to love the people who love you. It’s easy to love people who think and believe like you do. It is easy to be kind to people who are kind to you. But being a disciple of Christ requires more. Being a disciple of Christ means that you do what is needed to bring healing to the brokenness of the world, and love into the hatred, and light into the darkness – not just because it’s a nice thing to do, but because that is what Christ did. Being a disciple of Christ means figuring out how to cultivate life where death threatens to win, because that’s what Christ did. Being a disciple of Jesus means loving our enemies, and doing unto others as we already had Jesus do unto us. That is what will heal the world. 

It is a daily discipline. Loving our enemies must be practiced in the most mundane interactions at Wegmans or online, and when we’re hearing the news, and in our relationships at work, and in our families, and in our churches. It is a practice, and one at which we have failed and we will continue to fail. Yet for all the times we fall short, God never does. As many times as we assume the worst in our neighbor, and fail to love them, we still come here each week with hands outstretched, asking for forgiveness, and being given a morsel of bread with those words, “My body broken, and given for you.” My grace, given for you – to heal your own brokenness, so that you, too, might go forth to love and heal the world. 

Let us pray… Loving God, you showed us how to love our enemies by your son, who forgave his accusers and adversaries right from the very cross on which he died. Give us the insight we need to engage with our enemies, so that we might be compelled not toward hatred, but toward compassion. In the name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit. Amen. 

Sermon: Where we choose to be planted (February 16, 2025)

Epiphany 6C
February 16, 2025
Jeremiah 17:5-10
Luke 6:17-26

INTRODUCTION

There is a very clear theme tying together the Old Testament and Gospel readings today: blessings and curses, or woes, as Jesus calls them. Jeremiah, who is known for his doom-and-gloom messages, makes a clear distinction between those who are blessed, and those who are cursed. The larger narrative context of this passage makes it look like, in particular, those who practice idolatry shall be cursed. Or as today’s reading will say, those who trust in human powers rather than God – they will shrivel up in a dry desert. On the other hand, those who do trust in the Lord above all things will have a consistent stream from which to drink. (You’ll see that same imagery in the Psalm.)

Although Jesus uses similar words, the meaning is somewhat different. Today we will hear what is known as the Sermon on the Plain, or Level Place – which you will find is very similar to Matthew’s more well-known Sermon on the Mount, but with a couple of important differences. One is the location – it’s a flat place vs. a mountain. The other is the addition of the woes (not curses – it’s different!). And I warn you, this version of Jesus’ sermon is pretty squirmy. But where Jeremiah’s message is more prescriptive (acting a certain way has a certain outcome), Jesus’ sermon has a different feel. It is more descriptive, saying, “This is the way it is,” and that word, “woe,” is less of a curse and more like a warning. Like, “Watch out, if this is the case for you” – which gives the possibility of a change. So, as you listen, listen for that warning. What is the Word drawing your attention to in your heart today, that needs to be addressed? Let’s listen. 

[READ]

Painting by Jesus Mafa.

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

Where do you choose to be planted?

I was listening to a preaching podcast this week, and the speaker asked this question, and it hit me square in the face. “Where do you choose to be planted?” It clung to my heart and mind and dug itself in deep. 

The question was inspired by the Jeremiah text. Jeremiah begins, quoting God, by cursing “those who put their trust in mere mortals and make mere flesh their strength.” He likens that choice to a shrub that has been planted in the dry, barren desert. He contrasts this to “those who trust in the Lord, whose trust is the Lord.” These, Jeremiah says, “shall be like a tree planted by water.” This tree never has to feel anxious or fearful, even in times of heat and drought, because it is near its source of nourishment and refreshment, and so “its leaves shall stay green.”

So, again I ask you, where do you choose to be planted? With that parched shrub in the desert, or with the deeply rooted tree by the stream?

The choice seems obvious, right? Give me the good stuff – I want to be by the water! I want lush, green leaves, and with all my heart I want not to feel anxious and fearful when things heat up or dry up. So, the answer is easy.

So why does that question continue to nag at me so?

I think it is the word “choose” that grabbed my heart. Where do you choose to be planted? Because as Jeremiah describes this, it is a choice. We can choose to plant ourselves in the trust of mere mortals and make flesh our strength. We can choose to believe the strong leader will save us, the one with the appealing promises of fixing our troubles immediately. We can choose to believe that making more money will bring the security we crave, or political alliances (whether ethical or not) will keep what we value safe (that’s actually the situation Jeremiah is responding to – an unsavory political alliance). We can choose to trust in our own self-sufficiency. And my friends, I confess that I have chosen those things, many times, and thus planted myself out there in the desert. 

Or, we can choose to put our trust in the Lord. And although we know this means being close to our source, having nice green leaves, and not being anxious in times of heat or drought… it is also the more difficult option. Because “mere mortals” are right in front of us, engaging our five senses and making irresistible promises. It feels real, concrete, and we are more willing to trust things that are concrete. Trusting in the Lord is more nebulous. How does that even look, when sometimes, I can’t even hear what the Lord God is saying, and I haven’t seen any results yet? How can we trust in the Lord when our world seems to be crashing down around us – cities burning, people dying, relationships breaking, policies disturbing – where even is God, so that we might trust Him?

Of course, we can hear God, if we listen – maybe not in the way we are accustomed to hearing mere mortals, but that’s what we have scripture for! That’s what we have the Church for, so that we can hear God’s Word read, and then hear it interpreted, and then sing aloud God’s promises, and receive a word of grace with our ears and then with our hands and tongues in the sacrament. All of this can be a great and trustworthy source of consolation for us in times of trouble, a much deeper comfort than the fleeting promises of a mere mortal. We can choose to be planted here, and I pray that we do!

Now, I could preach, and have, a whole sermon on the strength we draw when we choose this path, choosing to trust in God, rather than in the strength of mortals. But this week, I am more interested in the fruit that is borne from this choice. That is, when we trust in God, where does this lead us? Because while I love consolation as much as the next person, I do not think faith is only about receiving God’s gifts, and then just sitting back and letting the world go round. 

So, let’s pivot now to another question: when we choose to be planted in God’s promises, where does that lead us? And more, how does that equip us to live as Christ-followers in this world?

For this, we can turn to Luke, and Jesus’ sermon on a level place. A few weeks ago, Jesus preached in the synagogue, reading from Isaiah, saying that the Spirit had sent him to bring good news to the poor, release to the captives, freedom to the oppressed, and that all of this was being fulfilled in their hearing. (If you recall, this sermon nearly got him thrown off of a cliff!) Today, in this sermon, Jesus elaborates on what this looks like. It looks first of all, like standing on a level place with the poor, the hungry, the weeping, and those who are reviled on account of the Son of Man. The topography here is no small detail – he is quite intentionally on their level. Remember back when Mary found out she was pregnant with Jesus, and she sang that God was bringing down the mighty and lifting up the lowly? Well, what happens when you do that? You all end up on the same level – and that is where Jesus is now, on the same level as the lowliest in society. And so, if we want to know where being planted in trust of God puts it, it puts us here: with the poor and lowly. 

I had a conversation this week with a seminary classmate of mine, someone with whom I’m sure I disagree on most political issues. In response to something he posted, I asked where he stood on some recent political events, and he evaded the question, saying instead, “Regardless of where I stand, our role is to love our neighbor, and love our enemy. There are two sides to every issue, and our job is to try to understand, and to love one another regardless.” 

Now, I agree with that, obviously – it is, you know, a basic tenet of our faith. But at the end of the day, I told him, we must take a side, and that side is with the oppressed, because that is the side Jesus is on. That is what he showed us it looks like to be planted in trust of God, for that is where God consistently chooses to be: with the poor, marginalized, and disenfranchised, with the hungry, weeping, and reviled. 

With our neighbors in South Africa who, without support from USAID, will struggle to administer prevention treatment for HIV and AIDS, and will die because of it; 

with kids who rely on funding for free and reduced breakfast and lunch to fill their bellies each day; 

with refugees who have, after years in process, been approved and recently arrived in Buffalo, NY with the promise of support in setting up their new life, only to find the funding cut off and no money to get them settled; 

with the migrant families afraid to go to school or church for fear of ICE raids, and being deported; 

with trans youth, fearing for their safety, for their very lives; 

with a bishop being condemned by Congress for pleading to a powerful man for mercy on behalf of those who are afraid.

That is where God plants Godself, right there on a level plain, with all of these people who are hungry, poor, sick, strangers, captive, or reviled on behalf of the Son of Man and his gospel of love and mercy. 

And so, when we are planted with God, when we trust in God rather than mere mortals, we also find ourselves planted firmly on the side of the poor and needy. This is what love of neighbor looks like.

As for love of enemy… I wonder if that might look something like Jesus’ woes: warnings about what happens when we choose to plant ourselves in the strength of the flesh and the false promises of mere mortals. Warnings not to be lured by the possibility of finding security in personal wealth, power, and fame. Warnings not to find satisfaction in our own full bellies, if it causes us to ignore the need around us. Warnings not to find too much comfort in people speaking well of us – lots of people have been admired for their power and lies, because it makes us feel good to be somehow a part of their brightness, but don’t be duped. The true light comes from God, not those false prophets, those false promises. 

My friends, this text is tough. And it is tougher still to see and to plant ourselves with the needy. It can be exhausting, and it is much nicer to stay in a comfortable place, where we are filled and laughing. But when we are planted in the Lord, trusting in the Lord, we have the nourishment we need to be able to love in this way. And this sort of love is where we find true life – that is, life in which we are close to our source, and flourishing even in times of fear and anxiety. It is the life that Jesus promises, that we experience when we plant ourselves beside him, on a level place, with those in need. 

I can’t say how that will look for you in this particular time and place. Next week, we’ll hear more of Jesus’ sermon, and he’ll give us some concrete ideas about how all this is lived out, but even then – only you know your capacity and resources, your priorities, the gifts you can share, and you know when you are the one in need of nourishment and restoration, and need to let someone else be the giver. God is with us either way, blessing us, filling us, giving us what we need to love one another, as God has, and will continue, to love us.

Let us pray… Loving God, we are so tempted by the comforts of this world. Give us the courage to plant ourselves by your life-giving stream, so that we would have the strength then to stand with you among the poor and needy, and be your loving hands and voice in this world on their behalf. In the name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit. Amen. 

Sermon: Peter's call and the life of discipleship (Feb. 9, 2025)

Epiphany 5C
February 9, 2025
Luke 5:1-11

INTRODUCTION

Today is a day of call stories. We’ll hear Isaiah’s dramatic call story, in which he describes a vision he had of God on a throne. You will recognize some of the words in this text: the call of the seraphs, the angels, are words we now sing as a part of the communion liturgy. I hope as you hear and sing them later this morning, that they will bring to your mind this scene that Isaiah describes, in which the whole room is filled with God’s glory, and where sin is blotted out.

Our reading from 1 Corinthians offers a glimpse of St. Paul’s call to missionary work – though it is not his call story (that can be found in the book of Acts), he reflects on how he became one of Jesus’ apostles; despite his sordid history of persecuting the church.

The last call story we will hear today is the call of the first disciples, Peter (here he is still Simon), James, and John. Where in the other Gospels, Jesus starts calling disciples pretty much first thing after his baptism and temptation in the desert, in Luke he has already been doing some teaching, preaching, and healing, and so has already made a name for himself. In fact, one of those healings was of Simon’s mother-in-law, so keep in mind that today’s interaction is not the first time Simon has met Jesus. 

Call stories like this matter – especially when the stories are included, as these are, in the biblical canon – because they set the tone for and even foreshadow the ministry to come. So as you listen, take notice of the details around each encounter and the way it is presented. What do you think those details can show us about how God calls us into ministry today? Let’s listen.

[READ]

by John August Swanson 

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

One of my favorite movies is When Harry Met Sally. I love the whole thing, but most of all I love the vignettes throughout of older couples telling the story of how they met. You can learn a lot about a person or people from how they tell these, their origin stories – stories about how they got to where they are today. 

The Bible, of course, is full of origin stories. The entire book of Genesis, of course, is origin stories, but there are also quite a few call stories as well – that is, stories about how various people came to be the servants of God we know them as today. Today we hear three of them: the prophet Isaiah, the Apostle Paul, and Jesus’ disciple, Simon Peter – three giants of the faith. We get insight from all of them about how they came to do the Lord’s work of spreading the word of God throughout the land. And like most origin stories, how a call story is told has much to tell us about the nature of that call, and what we can expect from it. 

So today I wanted to explore with you the call of Simon Peter, because while we are not all called to be prophets, like Isaiah, or church planters, like Paul, we are all called to be disciples, like Peter, and I think we can all learn something about the life of discipleship from Peter’s call story. So, let’s explore!

First of all, we can learn from Peter’s story that God calls ordinary, broken people (just like us) to be disciples. Luke tells us that Jesus has gone to the Lake of Gennesaret, some 80 miles from Jerusalem, where he just was. This spot on the lake is like, Nowheresville, Palestine, and he’s talking to a bunch of country folk and fishermen – not exactly the upper echelons of society. Furthermore, he’s targeted some fishermen who are allegedly professionals at this gig, but who have just utterly failed. All night they have fished, and caught nothing, not one fish! Some fishermen, right? But it is from this bunch of losers and failures from whom Jesus plucks his first (and most famous) disciples. 

Of course, this should come as no surprise to us, because this is a theme throughout the Bible: God is always choosing people with issues to do God’s work. Abraham and Sarah were abusive, Jacob was a scoundrel, Moses had a speech impediment, King David was a murderer, liar and adulterer. John the Baptist was a loon in the wilderness, Matthew was a slimy tax collector, and Paul was a persecutor of the church. And yet, I think we sometimes tell ourselves that we need to somehow have it all together before we can answer God’s call. I cringe when I hear people say things like, “I’ve wandered so far from God, I think lightening would strike the church if I ever entered it!” That’s exactly the opposite of what would happen if a notorious sinner walked in the door – indeed, no one but a sinner ever has. But God has shown again and again that sinners and failures and broken people are exactly the crowd Jesus interested in. 

Second, we can see from Peter’s call story that following Jesus requires immense trust. All night Peter and his friends have been fishing, and caught nothing. And then this carpenter/rabbi Jesus guy comes along and tries to tell these professional fishermen how to do their job! I doubt I’d be so gracious as Peter! I’d probably say, “Seriously, dude, you think you can do my job better than I can? Listen, I’ve been at this gig a long time, and I can tell you, if we didn’t catch any fish all night, we sure as heck won’t catch any right now, in the light of day with all these people around!” Surely Peter knew better than Jesus! And yet, Peter puts aside his confidence that he knows better, and casts the nets anyway. And the result is an abundance he can’t even manage on his own.

Boy, this is a lesson in discipleship I need again and again! I’m a pretty logical, smart person, and I usually think I know better than whatever crazy thing God has in mind. Yet dependence on my own intellect does not reflect much trust, does it? 

Last year, as you know, we received a multi-million dollar bequest, and said early on that we did not intend to use this bequest for our regular operating expenses. Instead, it would go toward ministry over and above our usual business. And so, while some we put some aside for capital improvements, and our endowment fund, and the hope of creating a new position for mission and outreach, a quarter of it, about a million dollars, we decided to give away to community organizations who are doing work we believe in. Very exciting! But then, by the end of the summer, it became clear that we were running a significant deficit – we were about $25,000 below our budgeted income for that point in the year. For several months, it was pretty concerning. It would have been really easy to say, “Well we have this bequest – why don’t we just give a little less away, and put that money toward our own needs, instead.” And yet, no one, not one person seriously suggested this, at least not to me. Instead, we were steadfast in our decision to be generous, trusting that God would provide. And God did! We ended the year with a surplus. You see, how we manage our money and resources is one concrete way we can practice trust, rather than logic, in our faith. It is hard, but God does have a way of coming through for us. And Peter’s call story shows us that this sort of trust is faithful discipleship. 

Third thing we can learn from Peter’s call story is that following Jesus starts with repentance – that is, confession, and turning away from sinful ways. When Jesus tells him to cast his nets again, his first response is skepticism. “Uh, we’ve tried that… but whatever.” When he sees the bounty that results (so many fish the nets break and the boats begin to sink!), he immediately recognizes his unbelief, his limited perspective, his belief that nothing more than he had seen before could ever happen. Jesus opens Peter’s eyes not only to the possibility of something he’d never imagined, but also to his own sinfulness, his own need for grace. 

And perhaps that is even the better lesson we can learn here: that we are all sinners in need of God’s grace. That every last one of us has doubted whether God can really pull through for us; every last one of us has put our trust in human things, rather than divine things; every last one of us has held a limited view of the power of God. To start our journey with repentance, with confession of our unbelief, is to start our journey by saying, “Here, Jesus, you drive. I can’t do it, but I know that you can. I am a sinner in need of grace, and I know and trust that you will deliver.” That’s why we start nearly every Sunday worship service with a time of confession. It is so that, as we bring ourselves to worship (our whole selves, even the broken bits), we are powerfully reminded that we are sinners who are utterly dependent on God’s grace. And, even more, that we are, each day, assured of being given that grace. 

Finally, what we can learn from Peter’s call story is that following Jesus, while inspiring and life-giving, can also be really scary. After Peter recognizes and names his human frailty, Jesus tells him, “Do not be afraid.” This is always a clue that what comes next is really something worth being afraid of! It’s like, “Don’t freak out, I’m about to give you a huge, important task,” but it also means, “but don’t worry: I’m gonna be right here the whole time.” 

And so it is here: “Do not be afraid, Simon Peter. I’m going to use you to spread this gospel, to share the good news, to cast your nets into the deep waters of the world, where there are people you’re not used to talking to, and situations unlike you’ve seen before, and experiences that will stretch you to your limit and then some. It ain’t gonna be easy. But do not be afraid: I’ll be here with you the whole time.”

That’s how it is to be a disciple, you see? Being a disciple of Christ implies a call into the deep waters, into the chaotic world, to bring there a word of hope. Being a disciple means sometimes choosing trust over logic and good sense. Being a disciple means admitting your shortcomings, but rather than dwelling there, trusting that God will use you despite or even because of your brokenness and failures. Being a disciple means sometimes rocking the boat, even sometimes to the point of it sinking, if doing so will help to further the radical, life-changing, and loving message of the gospel. 

And so, my friends, let us not be afraid to live into this call. Let us bring our whole, broken and sinful selves to this work, to the deep, chaotic waters of the world. Let us turn from sin, and above all, let us trust in God’s presence and abundant grace – for us bunch of sinners and failures, and for the whole world.

Let us pray… Lord Jesus, you have called us into the deep waters of discipleship. When we doubt our worthiness, or are overwhelmed by our sin or shortcomings, or think we know better than you, help us to trust that you have called us for a reason. Help us each day to live into that call. In the name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit. Amen.