Priesthood of all Believers

January 27, 2008
Matthew 4:12-23
Sermon by Torin Eikler
Epiphany 3

This past weekend, I traveled to Orangeburg, South Carolina. I did not go to participate in the primary elections that were held on Saturday, though it was interesting to see all of the signs and the smartly dressed young campaigners who seemed to be at every gas station along the way. No, I went to see the friends I made eleven years ago while we were rebuilding a church that was part of the surge of racially motivated burning in the mid-ninties. This was the ten-year anniversary of their “grand re-opening,” and many of the hundreds of volunteers returned to celebrate the milestone.

The festivities lasted all weekend and the people of that congregation really know how to throw a party! Workshops on sacred dance and choral singing in the African-American style were followed by a rich banquet, and the whole thing was filled with fellowship time and punctuated with door-prizes and trips to the site of the old building – now marked with a simple monument. It was a wonderful chance to reconnect with people I had not seen in years and to remember what I had learned about Christian love from my African Methodist Episcopal brothers and sisters.

Appropriately, the weekend wrapped up with worship on Sunday morning where, for the first time, I was surprised by the request that I sit on the chancel along with all the other pastors. (As an aside, the worship started at 9:30 and lasted until 11:45 – only slightly longer than the usual service.) After worship, there was a carry-in meal for those of us who would be getting back on the road shortly, and as I sat and talked with Mary Whaley, the conversation turned toward the interesting turns each of our lives had taken over the past decade.

One of the benefits of preaching every other week is the extra time we have to dwell on the scriptures and for events in our lives to converge to inform our thoughts if we are open to hear. That this conversation was one of those moments became clear to me as Mary began to speak of her life and mine as shaped by the leading of God. Her words echoed a conversation from the night before at the banquet. Stanley, a member of the church who had done all the concrete work during the rebuilding shared that he was considering doing some mission work – not the long-term kind but a week here or there helping others in need. When I asked, he told me that it wasn’t so much in response to what the church there had experienced (though that was probably part of it). No, he said that he was just feeling a call to reach out and help.

Leading, guidance, divine nudging… whatever we choose to name it, calling is a favorite subject for our faith community as it is for all believer’s churches. Our commitment to Christ begins with baptism that flows from the call we feel to become disciples, and our lives as disciples are often governed by a sense of calling. Yet, almost everyone I have talked to has trouble explaining how they receive that divine guidance. Rarely does it come as clearly as it did for four fishermen on the shores of Galilee. More often, people speak of confused feelings that just don’t seem to go away or, if they are describing the event after the fact, they talk about how seemingly unrelated events came together to point toward a new direction in their lives.

Most of us take it for granted that how we all receive and interpret the call is all a part of the mysterious workings of our God. But, acting on the call of God upon our lives is one of the more important parts of living as a disciple. So, I think it is worth each of our time to dwell upon our own experience. Hopefully we will come to understand more and become more open to and aware of the call as it comes.

In Seminary, we spent many an hour thinking, talking, and writing about calling. It seemed to be the main topic of our first years of ministry classes – this search to clarify the ministry to which we were called. Were we called to the pastorate? Were we called to work in soup kitchens or shelters? Were we called to teach? To lead as administrators? To write? To minister as chaplains? … Later, the question became “why.” Why are you called to minister to congregations or youth or those caught up in difficult circumstances?

In the midst of all these wondering conversations we were offered several different methods or perspectives to help with our search. One path started with us and traveled to the world. Along this way, we were to look inwards and find those things that brought us to life. What is it that excites you? What is the source of your deepest joy? These were the questions that we were asked to ponder. The hope being that equipped with that knowledge we would naturally find a place of ministry where our spirit would be fed by the work we did.

Another path began with the world and came back to us. In this case, we were asked to consider the broken places of the world – the places where we had witnessed or perceived pain pervading life – and then to look within ourselves for an answering response. Where does suffering awaken your compassion? What injustice makes you feel righteous anger? Where does your passion meet the world’s pain? In the answers to these questions was the key to understanding our call.

Taking another perspective that honored the communal nature of the Anabaptist faith community, we were asked to listen to those around us. What had we heard from our brothers and sisters? Was there something that came up more often than might be chalked up to chance? Perhaps all those separate voices saying that you should think about teaching or asking when you were going to become a pastor were actually the voice of God speaking through the community.

Still another method was for those who deal more effectively with the concrete. Write down the abilities you were born with and the skills that your life has given you. Then, find a place where that particular mix will fit a need, for God uses each of us with our unique mix of talent and experience to carry out the work of the Kingdom.

There were and are still more ways to think about calling. And, of course, there are books and more books that will help you through any one of these approaches. For my part, I did not find any one of the paths we were offered to be entirely helpful. They were either too vague or I ended up with too many options to really help me figure it out. I especially struggled with the idea that calling was to be found where our passion meets the worlds pain. That was a hard thought for me because as I looked back on my experiences since college, I recognized two time when I had been in that position.

My first year of volunteer service had been a wonderful time - particularly my time with Butler Chapel (the church I mentioned earlier). I continually found myself eager to do the work of building, and I came to love the people I served with. Yet, by the time my year with disaster response was over the director of the program had changed, and the new person in charge did not feel that continuing my position was a good idea. So I moved on.

Likewise, my last assignment as a volunteer felt like it could have been a place to stay. I was working in the soup kitchen run by the Washington City Church of the Brethren, and I found the work exciting and rewarding. There was a clear need for my service, and I was told by many that I did a very good job both cooking and interacting with the clients. But it was in the midst of this work that I found myself drawn to enter seminary which eventually led me here.

While neither of these jobs was without its problems and frustrations, they were two years of my life when I never remember feeling like I just didn’t want to go to work. (Think about your lives and the jobs you have held and see if there were times like that for you. I know that that has rarely been the case for me, and so those were powerful experiences for me.)

As I worked my way methodically through all those books at seminary, I found myself thinking that these two times in my life seemed to fit all the criteria. I had been led to those places by the voices of brothers and sisters and by the leading of my heart. My skills and talents seemed to fit the need that was in front of me, and I found the work exciting and fulfilling. These were places where my passion met the world’s pain, and yet I was called away from both of those positions. Why that is, I don’t know, but as Mary assured me, we must trust that God does. What I have come to realize is that somehow all the time I spent in meditation did manage to open me up to feel the leading of the Spirit guiding me forward into a new ministry as a pastor.

I don’t know if there is any one way to figure out what our calling is. I suspect that each person comes to it in their own way just as each person is unique and comes to God in their own way. Yet there does seem to be one thing, at least, that is key. If we are to hear the call of God on our lives, we must be open and listen. Peter and Andrew, James and John … they were all open to hear the call though they were in very midst of the work they were doing. And while very few of us experience Christ coming to us as they did or have visions like that of Paul to shock us out of the routines of our lives, we all – every one of us who has chosen to follow Christ – need to keep a space in our hearts, minds, and spirits open and waiting to receive the call of God. We need to do that because God’s call is not always a once and for all time thing. It is much more likely, I think, that we will find ourselves led in many different paths throughout the course of our lives if we are truly open and listening.

As difficult as it is and as challenging as it feels to live with that little bit of uncertainty, it is important to keep our inner ear turned toward God. If we don’t, we find ourselves deafened by the noise of our daily effort to get through everything that is piled on our plates. We are distracted by all the details, and we fail to step back a look at the bigger picture.

A friend of mine, Layla, once told me that God is always calling to us, offering new opportunities to serve and grow, and it’s okay to turn down what’s offered if we don’t feel ready. God will keep inviting us one way or the other. “The thing is,” she said, “the people who don’t accept the call miss out on all the fun.” Now, I don’t necessarily think that following the call is always fun for as Isaiah said we sometimes find ourselves despised by those we seek to serve. But there is truth in Layla’s words and there is joy in becoming a light for the nations. And, unless we stand open to receive the invitation, we miss even the chance to jump in and enjoy the party.

As we prepare to enter into the season of Lenten repentance, I challenge each of you, in your own way – be it by making lists, through meditative prayer, in conversation with others, or another way known to you – I challenge you, to turn the eyes and ears of your spirit toward God. Look for the finger of God around you in the midst of life. Listen for the whisper of the Spirit whether it comes to you in prayer or through the voice of another. Open that small space to welcome the call of Christ when it comes so that you don’t miss the invitation to join in the fun.