Called But Not Qualified

Scripture Lessons: Isaiah 42: 1-9 and Matthew 3: 13-17 Sermon Title: Called but not Qualified Preached on January 12, 2020 Last Thursday was a special night for me. Having been nominated by Jim Kerr, I was honored to be named among the top twenty under 40 in Cobb County. They gave me a fancy glass trophy and had me walk across the stage, while several members of our congregation who were in attendance cheered, which made me feel very special. But as the other names were called and all their accomplishments were listed, I started to feel a little out of place. At the end of the ceremony before cocktails on the roof of the Strand Theater, I bumped into Trevor Beemon, executive director of Cobb Landmarks and the William Root House and also one of the 20 under 40. We agreed that we both felt like imposters. “I mean, a guy who was on TV on The Voice was up there,” he said, noting that we had been grouped with truly incredible people. Well, I ran into that guy who was on The Voice in the stair well. I told him I was honored to be included in this group with him, and he said, “Oh man. I felt so out of place. I had to go up on the stage right after that lady who is the South-East’s top building contractor, who also happens to be a helicopter commander. I’m just a singer!” That made me feel better, because I guess, we all feel unworthy at times. Look at John the Baptist. Our Scripture Lesson begins: “Then Jesus came from Galilee to John at the Jordan, to be baptized by him. John would have prevented him, saying, “I need to be baptized by you, and do you come to me?” The author of the book of Matthew tells us that John would have prevented him, and I can understand that because getting called on by God to do something so incredible is a terrifying thing. Being called on by God to do anything important is terrifying, because it makes us all, even John the Baptist, feel unworthy. I’ll never forget how our neighbor back in Tennessee, a great Episcopalian named Kile Patrick, called his wife Connie just to say, “I just had the most incredible thought. If my cell phone rang and the caller ID said that it was God calling, would I pick up?” Not everybody would. Not everybody does. Think about it. Isn’t it an overwhelming thought that God would call on you or me to do something for him? So, just about every time it happens the one who’s called on hesitates. The Lord appeared to Moses in the Burning Bush and Moses says: “Who am I that I should go to Pharaoh.” The Lord woke young Jeremiah from sleep in the Temple and Jeremiah says: “Wait a minute. I am only a boy.” The Lord calls Isaiah and Isaiah says: “Woe is me! I am lost, for I am a man of unclean lips, and I live among a people of unclean lips.” The phone rings and God is calling but not many people are ready to pick it up so also Jesus came to John at the Jordan to be baptized by him, and John would have prevented him asking, “who am I to be baptized by you?” Isn’t that what we all ask? Who am I to serve the church as an Elder? Who am I to be a Deacon? Who am I to teach? Who am I to comfort those who mourn? Who am I to preach? How do any of us respond to the honor of being called, and yet we must play our part for Christianity is not a spectator sport, though sometimes we treat it like it is. Sometimes we walk into this sanctuary, and because there are seats out there, there’s a platform up here, it’s easy to fall into the misconception that this place is something like a theater. In a theater, there are three basic stations, there are three basic roles. There’s the audience, the actors on the stage and then there’s the director who is back behind the curtain. That’s true in so many places we go. At a dance recital, there are the dancers on the stage, the instructors are behind the curtain helping them along, and the parents and grandparents are loving every minute of it in the audience. But this sanctuary is different. Every Church is different, because when we are bold to see God at work and when we are courageous enough to answer the call, the whole world is different. According to the great Danish Philosopher Soren Kierkegaard, in the sanctuary God is the audience, you are the ones on stage, and it is the job of those of us who stand up here to direct you in your performance of praise and worship. How then is it if someone falls asleep in the back? To God it is the same as if a dancer fell asleep on stage. Christianity, like life, is not a spectator sport, though some treat it as though it were. Some are called on but don’t pick up the phone. They don’t feel worthy, they don’t feel able, they don’t have the time, though the Lord calls on humans to take on divine work just as Jesus called on John at the Jordan. John doesn’t feel worthy to do so. Neither do I. We sing to worship God in here, but why would God want to hear us sing? It sounds strange that God would need our voices, maybe because we don’t know that God uses them, but let me tell you something, God does. I was at a funeral last Thursday. Many of you were there too. Our choir sang. At the reception Mayor Tumlin walked up to me and he said, “That choir is amazing. And to think that all those people would show up to sing on a Thursday at 2:00.” Why did they do that? Maybe some of them asked themselves the same question: “Why should I show up to sing when there is work to do, and laundry to fold, and what difference will it make any way?” These are the questions that we ask, while God calls us to lift up our voices because it is the music which points to the truth that we cannot comprehend. It is the choir who lifts up the faint hearted. For the presence of mere mortals brings comfort to the broken hearted. Do you know that? It’s true. God calls us. God uses us. But like John we hesitate, saying, “I’m not worthy.” Take heart then, because God doesn’t call perfect people. God doesn’t call the qualified. God qualifies the called. Christianity, like life, is no spectator sport, and just as Jesus called on John to baptize him in the Jordan, so also you and I are called on every single time a baby is baptized here. You are not to watch as I sprinkle that water on her head – you are to participate, making promises to everyone who is baptized here “to receive the child into the life of the church” and to “support and encourage her through prayer and example to be faithful in Christian Discipleship.” You and I have been called because we have a job to do. Now that I’ve explained it this way you might be thinking what John was thinking and wishing that you hadn’t made the promises that you made, but hear what Jesus said to John, “Let it be so now; for it is proper for us in this way to fulfill all righteousness.” Isn’t it a miracle, an amazing miracle, that all righteousness is fulfilled with the help of a human’s hands? That a church is called on to teach a child about the grace of God? This is God’s way – the divine inviting the human, not to stand by and watch, but to play a part. Consider for just a moment how many human beings played their part in loving you so that you became the person you are today. I was standing there with Mayor Tumlin as he was celebrating our choir. Then he noticed Victoria Chastain standing there handing out glasses of water. “Is that the kind of job I have to look forward to as an ex-mayor of the city of Marietta?” he asked. They both laughed and across the room a woman looked at me and walked over. She looked me in the eye and said, “Can you remember who I am?” I said, “Of course I can. You’re Mrs. Peterson! My teacher!” She said, “Well, yes, but it’s Mrs. Pickett.” And I said, “Of course, Mrs. Pickett, my third-grade teacher.” She said, “Well, it was fifth grade, but yes.” We talked for a while, and she told me she wished she could go dig up some of the things I wrote when I was in her class at Hickory Hills Elementary school, and the thing I wanted to say but couldn’t is that she loved how I wrote and I remember. She bound up our writing in little books, and she asked me to read mine to the whole school at an assembly. My book was called the Swamp Monster, and she loved it, and it made me feel so good that my teacher loved it. My parents meant to be there when I read it to the school, but they got mixed up about the time, and when I cried because they weren’t there Mrs. Pickett gave me a hug and it meant the whole world. Or it might have been my third-grade teacher, Mrs. Peterson. Regardless, my point is this: there are people who made all the difference to me. Some of them are here right now, because God uses mortals to participate in the divine story that is changing us and the world. Jesus called on John to baptize him in the Jordan, just as he calls on you, just as he calls on me. We may not be qualified, but we are called, so say yes. Amen.