Send Me
Sermon
THE WAY OF THE KING
Sermons For Pentecost (First Third)
It was the year of the dying of the king, when Isaiah saw the Lord, high and lifted up in the incense-shrouded heights of the sanctuary. When he heard God say, "Whom shall I send?" he replied simply, "Here am I, send me!"
It was the year when the priests robbed the people in the name of God, when Samuel heard the Lord, as he was waking from sleep by the ark in the temple at Shiloh. When he heard God say, "Samuel," he replied simply, "Here I am ... speak, Lord, for your servant is listening."
It was the year when the fish weren't biting, so you worked all day in the hot sun, throwing the nets and pulling them in empty, and they still went home hungry, when Simon Peter fell to his knees, surrounded by flopping, tossing fish, in a boat astonishingly overloaded with the catch of a lifetime; and he threw it all away, left it all behind, he and his brothers and their friends, when they heard the simple words: "... from now on you will be catching people."
It strikes me that what Isaiah, kneeling on the cold marble floor in the dimly-lit incense filled shadows of the temple had in common with Samuel, sleeping by the ark in the sanctuary at Shiloh, and with Simon Peter, kneeling in the sunlit bilge of a boat bobbing up-and-down on the Sea of Galilee, was that all three were confronted unexpectedly, but unmistakably, with the power and presence of God! Then with no more thought than that of an instant, all three yielded their lives completely to the call, "Whom shall I send?"
What does it mean, "to be called?" Such an experience, we will freely admit, has not often been part of our lives. To be made an offer, give it careful consideration, add up the positives and negatives, consider profit and loss, and in due time come to a decision whether to accept or reject - this is more what we are accustomed to.
I absolutely hate it when someone comes up to me and says: "Will you do something for me?" They are asking a commitment from me before I know exactly what they want, giving me no chance to consider whether I want to do it or not!
But when God said, "Whom shall I send," Isaiah, for one, never asked, "Where will I be going?" "Where am I going?" is a terribly important question, a question of planning, direction and goals, but it is a question Isaiah never asked. Isaiah just said, "Send me. It doesn't matter where, it doesn't matter when. Here am I, send me."
That's not the way we work. That's not the way our world works. Perhaps that is the very reason why we so seldom feel we have been "called" to anything! Ask someone why she is a member of a particular church. You are likely to get responses like:
"Well, we looked around, and this one suits us."
"We like the people, they're friendly."
"The Sunday school is great for the kids."
"The music's good."
"The sermons don't put me to sleep ... too often."
But when was the last time you heard anybody say: "I'm here in this church because God called me and sent me here." So where is the passion, the amazement, even the fear and trembling before God of hearing that call?
"Whom shall I send?" God said in the temple, and Isaiah had no time to ask where he was going, or how he planned to get there before he said, "Send me." We, on the other hand, seem to need to be thinking constantly about where we are going and where we have been, about what our goals are, where they will take us and what it will take to get there. To survive, to eat, to sleep, to work, to raise a family - it all takes a lot of attention to planning and goals.
Yet when God called Isaiah in the temple, Samuel in the sanctuary and Simon in the boat, that summons blocked out all the thoughts and concerns which normally fill a person's head. They left whatever former existence they had enjoyed, just for the sake of following where they were sent! These were certainly not well-thought-out, reasoned responses. It was more like an obsession.
Is their experience totally impossible for us to comprehend? Obviously, I hope not. Dag Hammarskjold, in his book Markings, wrote of a similar experience, and though it happened neither in a temple nor in a fishing boat, it was no less convincing. He wrote that he did not know exactly how the call came, "But at some moment I did answer yes to someone, or something, and from that hour I was certain that existence is meaningful."
Consider the possibility that in this year, not in the year of the death of kings, nor in the year of corrupt priests, nor in the year of the poor catch of fish, but in this year of economic anxieties and political posturing, in this year of job pressures and overloaded schedules, in this year of marital ups and downs, and kids' problems at school ... in this year, which is, in fact, like virtually every other year from the beginning of creation ... Consider the possibility that in this very year God stands before you somehow, somewhere, in the form of someone familiar or unexpected, and says to you, "Whom shall I send?"
Not, "If you want, if you're ready, if you have time, if you think about it and decide that following's okay for you to do now, but of course you could always do it later ..." but, "Whom shall I send, and who will go for us?" And if you find the possibility of hearing those words in a life so overloaded you hardly have time to breathe; if you find the possibility of hearing those words as frightening as I do, then you should know that we are in good company, for that is the very fear that drove Isaiah, Samuel and Simon to their knees.
Because the possibility of such a transfiguration that is a renovation as total and complete as if it came from nothing as at creation itself - such a possibility is terrifying and astonishing and amazing! Yet we have lived too long without amazement in our life ... in our life as a church, as a people of God.
If being part of the church means you're just here, for a while, because it suits you now, then we do indeed have gray days ahead, unless you can see the possibility that in this very ordinary year you might look up from washing your nets, or wake from a sound sleep, or gaze up into the heights of the sanctuary and hear a familiar voice saying, "Come on, there's more to it than this!"
"Whom shall I send?" God still says to us. I truly believe that the "yes" is within each of us, yearning to break through. I believe that the potential to say yes to God, with passion, with astonishment, with amazement, even with fear, does exist within each one of us. It exists within us waiting for the unexpected moment when we will hear God's word echoing through the heights and depths of our lives. And we will say ...
That one little moment is worth a lifetime. That one little moment is what we were made for. "Here am I, send me."
Lord of all creation, we confess that we have seldom heard your call in the depths of our lives. We have not been struck speechless in your presence, nor have we left all to follow you. Help us, none the less, to learn to be followers of your way. In the challenges of daily life; in the times that threaten to undo us; when we are overwhelmed and without hope, let us hear your word of comfort and your call to discipleship. May we not be afraid to follow where you lead. In Jesus' name. Amen.
It was the year when the priests robbed the people in the name of God, when Samuel heard the Lord, as he was waking from sleep by the ark in the temple at Shiloh. When he heard God say, "Samuel," he replied simply, "Here I am ... speak, Lord, for your servant is listening."
It was the year when the fish weren't biting, so you worked all day in the hot sun, throwing the nets and pulling them in empty, and they still went home hungry, when Simon Peter fell to his knees, surrounded by flopping, tossing fish, in a boat astonishingly overloaded with the catch of a lifetime; and he threw it all away, left it all behind, he and his brothers and their friends, when they heard the simple words: "... from now on you will be catching people."
It strikes me that what Isaiah, kneeling on the cold marble floor in the dimly-lit incense filled shadows of the temple had in common with Samuel, sleeping by the ark in the sanctuary at Shiloh, and with Simon Peter, kneeling in the sunlit bilge of a boat bobbing up-and-down on the Sea of Galilee, was that all three were confronted unexpectedly, but unmistakably, with the power and presence of God! Then with no more thought than that of an instant, all three yielded their lives completely to the call, "Whom shall I send?"
What does it mean, "to be called?" Such an experience, we will freely admit, has not often been part of our lives. To be made an offer, give it careful consideration, add up the positives and negatives, consider profit and loss, and in due time come to a decision whether to accept or reject - this is more what we are accustomed to.
I absolutely hate it when someone comes up to me and says: "Will you do something for me?" They are asking a commitment from me before I know exactly what they want, giving me no chance to consider whether I want to do it or not!
But when God said, "Whom shall I send," Isaiah, for one, never asked, "Where will I be going?" "Where am I going?" is a terribly important question, a question of planning, direction and goals, but it is a question Isaiah never asked. Isaiah just said, "Send me. It doesn't matter where, it doesn't matter when. Here am I, send me."
That's not the way we work. That's not the way our world works. Perhaps that is the very reason why we so seldom feel we have been "called" to anything! Ask someone why she is a member of a particular church. You are likely to get responses like:
"Well, we looked around, and this one suits us."
"We like the people, they're friendly."
"The Sunday school is great for the kids."
"The music's good."
"The sermons don't put me to sleep ... too often."
But when was the last time you heard anybody say: "I'm here in this church because God called me and sent me here." So where is the passion, the amazement, even the fear and trembling before God of hearing that call?
"Whom shall I send?" God said in the temple, and Isaiah had no time to ask where he was going, or how he planned to get there before he said, "Send me." We, on the other hand, seem to need to be thinking constantly about where we are going and where we have been, about what our goals are, where they will take us and what it will take to get there. To survive, to eat, to sleep, to work, to raise a family - it all takes a lot of attention to planning and goals.
Yet when God called Isaiah in the temple, Samuel in the sanctuary and Simon in the boat, that summons blocked out all the thoughts and concerns which normally fill a person's head. They left whatever former existence they had enjoyed, just for the sake of following where they were sent! These were certainly not well-thought-out, reasoned responses. It was more like an obsession.
Is their experience totally impossible for us to comprehend? Obviously, I hope not. Dag Hammarskjold, in his book Markings, wrote of a similar experience, and though it happened neither in a temple nor in a fishing boat, it was no less convincing. He wrote that he did not know exactly how the call came, "But at some moment I did answer yes to someone, or something, and from that hour I was certain that existence is meaningful."
Consider the possibility that in this year, not in the year of the death of kings, nor in the year of corrupt priests, nor in the year of the poor catch of fish, but in this year of economic anxieties and political posturing, in this year of job pressures and overloaded schedules, in this year of marital ups and downs, and kids' problems at school ... in this year, which is, in fact, like virtually every other year from the beginning of creation ... Consider the possibility that in this very year God stands before you somehow, somewhere, in the form of someone familiar or unexpected, and says to you, "Whom shall I send?"
Not, "If you want, if you're ready, if you have time, if you think about it and decide that following's okay for you to do now, but of course you could always do it later ..." but, "Whom shall I send, and who will go for us?" And if you find the possibility of hearing those words in a life so overloaded you hardly have time to breathe; if you find the possibility of hearing those words as frightening as I do, then you should know that we are in good company, for that is the very fear that drove Isaiah, Samuel and Simon to their knees.
Because the possibility of such a transfiguration that is a renovation as total and complete as if it came from nothing as at creation itself - such a possibility is terrifying and astonishing and amazing! Yet we have lived too long without amazement in our life ... in our life as a church, as a people of God.
If being part of the church means you're just here, for a while, because it suits you now, then we do indeed have gray days ahead, unless you can see the possibility that in this very ordinary year you might look up from washing your nets, or wake from a sound sleep, or gaze up into the heights of the sanctuary and hear a familiar voice saying, "Come on, there's more to it than this!"
"Whom shall I send?" God still says to us. I truly believe that the "yes" is within each of us, yearning to break through. I believe that the potential to say yes to God, with passion, with astonishment, with amazement, even with fear, does exist within each one of us. It exists within us waiting for the unexpected moment when we will hear God's word echoing through the heights and depths of our lives. And we will say ...
That one little moment is worth a lifetime. That one little moment is what we were made for. "Here am I, send me."
Lord of all creation, we confess that we have seldom heard your call in the depths of our lives. We have not been struck speechless in your presence, nor have we left all to follow you. Help us, none the less, to learn to be followers of your way. In the challenges of daily life; in the times that threaten to undo us; when we are overwhelmed and without hope, let us hear your word of comfort and your call to discipleship. May we not be afraid to follow where you lead. In Jesus' name. Amen.
