An Undivided Call (Sermon - 3rd Sunday of Epiphany)

1 Corinthians 1: 10-18; Matthew 4: 12-23

I have told some of you about the unique way I attended seminary. The mission of the University of Dubuque Theological Seminary focuses on small rural congregations and Native American congregations.  In order to meet the needs of these worshipping communities, they developed a Commissioned Lay Pastor program about ten years ago – it’s now called a Commissioned Ruling Elder program and it is similar to what our own Kerry Border has gone through here in Michigan – and they made it into a distance program, with online courses, and with one or two onsite requirements. They did this to reduce the cost and increase the time flexibility of this education, because these small congregations could rarely afford to send someone away for residential seminary training. After about ten years, and having graduated over 2000 Commissioned Lay Pastors, some of these got back in touch with the seminary, saying “we want to be ordained as Ministers of the Word and Sacrament; we want to be able to get our Masters of Divinity using the same education process.”

So, since they had already refined the tools of online seminary education, they expanded it into the M.Div program they already had going on campus, and a distance learning program was added to their residential M.Div. I was part of the third group to start.

And so, in August of 2009, I made my first pilgrimage to Dubuque, Iowa, for two weeks of onsite classes.

These pilgrimages would happen twice a year for four years, in what was accurately described as the worst months of the year to be in Dubuque – August and January – the months with the hottest heat and the coldest cold. We came from all over the country, and even around the world – two classmates were from Lebanon and the Dominican Republic. It was a sacred time when we were together, and the online work also brought us together as a community in ways that we never could have imagined would happen.

God called us all, and that was the one common aspect of our journey.

Our ages were varied, our theologies were varied, our lifestyles and our home congregations were varied, but we had been called onto the same path, the same journey – to follow the call of our Lord and Savior.

The first intensive always includes some “getting to know you” and “spiritual formation” work. This includes a “ropes” course, to build trust among one another, and it also includes a trip to the labyrinth at a nearby convent called Sinsinawa.

This was the first time I had ever walked a labyrinth. It reminded me of one of the puzzles I liked to do in those Dell puzzle books – the ones that had not only crosswords, but also logic problems, cryptograms, and complex mazes you had to find your way through with your pen or pencil. Those mazes had only one correct path, but many, many dead ends you could find yourself caught in. I loved doing those things. I imagine that the corn mazes that pop up around here every year during harvest time are similar, although I’ve never been to one of those. [I don’t like getting lost.]

The labyrinth is different from a maze, though. Everyone goes in using the same entry point, and everyone walks the same path, and everyone eventually ends up in the same center point, from which they eventually choose to turn around and walk back out. In the process, you walk every step of the labyrinth.

The walk itself is a spiritual practice. Once you enter, it’s like a process of obedience: you put one foot in front of the other, and you go where the path leads you. You find yourself turning, going back the direction you just came. You get close to the center, and then the path takes you back out toward the edge. You encounter people who are walking the labyrinth at the same time as you; sometimes they come toward you on the path next to yours, and you move aside for a minute to give them room to go ahead on their path. Sometimes you catch up to them, and you need to slow down and let them do their walk at their pace, and you experience new things from pacing yourself with them.

Getting to the center can be an emotional experience – there’s a sort of release that comes, and then going back out is filled with meaning as well.

God speaks to you along the walk. It’s a beautiful walk, the labyrinth.

When I did this for the first time, as I rounded one turn after another,

walking in a way that seemed aimless but was clearly taking me in an intended direction, I suddenly had one of those “message from God” moments that come to me somewhat rarely, but oh, so clearly.

What I heard was God saying to me, you can only walk one path.

This was at a time when I was still trying to juggle many responsibilities and roles and expectations – my career aspirations, my aging parents, my almost-adult children, my church work, my marriage – and I had just entered seminary for reasons that were not yet all that clear to me.

And God said to me, you can only walk one path.

I knew that the path I had to walk was the one that led me to God, not to any of the other enticements or entitlements or false achievements that I had pursued for a long, long time. The labyrinth showed me that I was on one path, a path that many others had walked and were walking, but a path that I could no longer straddle along with any other. I had been called to follow Jesus – no turning back.

Our gospel lesson today is the familiar story of Jesus walking by the fishermen along the shore, and saying, “Follow me, and I will make you fish for people.”

And immediately they leave their nets, their boats, their father, their livelihoods, their family, and they go on the singular path of following Jesus. Jesus will also call other disciples, and more and more people from many different life experiences will follow him on this same path, leading from death to new life, to which he calls them, and he calls us.

Come to me, all you who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest. Come with me; follow me. Come and see! And they do. And we do. But we so often drag our baggage along with us, uncertain how to let go of the things that have meant security to us all along, reluctant to take the risks that seem to be involved – because loving God sounds easy, but loving our neighbors, regardless of how they behave – that’s hard. And loving our enemies – how can we do that without jeopardizing our own comfort, safety, individuality, and traditions? So we try to do this at a safe distance from the path – we send off checks, we post on FB to show what we believe about caring for others, we get together for occasional potlucks or ecumenical services, but we keep our distance when it comes to truly being in Christian community with those we see as “other”, as “those people”.

Paul’s letter to the Corinthians is about the sorts of divisions that spring up, even in Christian community, when we let ourselves become divided, focusing on different paths than the one to which Christ has called us.

In the case of the church at Corinth, what we can tell from this letter is that the different house churches are not the issue for Paul; he is not concerned about whether they worship together or not. What matters to him is that they are competing for who follows the best leader – the most eloquent preacher, the leader who contributes most to their spiritual walk. And what Paul tells them, in this passage as well as through the rest of this letter, is that if they are focused on these other leaders, then they are not following Christ. He assures them that diversity is fine, but divisiveness and dissension is not; that the body of Christ has many members, and they all operate differently to help bring forth the kingdom of God.

But their unity comes from the one we follow – and that is Jesus Christ.

And so the path is a common path; the journey is a common journey –even though we will walk this path, this journey, differently, based on the season or time of our life in which we walk it; based on the unique gifts as well as the personal baggage we bring to it; based on the pace we take. We will walk it differently from one another. But we are on the same journey, to the same place, and we are united – as family members – brothers and sisters, as Paul calls us - with one another in Christ.

Something spoke to the hearts of those fishermen, to cause them to drop their nets and walk away, to follow Jesus. Perhaps something had spoken to their hearts long ago. Perhaps the longing for God was imprinted on their hearts since the beginning of the world. When Jesus walked by, perhaps what they heard was the answer to that longing, and so they could do nothing to resist it. Step by step, one foot in front of the other, not knowing where they were going, they followed the path of the Lord.

Saint Augustine wrote in the introduction to the first book of his Confessions that “our hearts are restless until they find their rest in thee.” Friends, it is our restless hearts that divide us and pit us one against another. Paul encourages us to have the  “same mind” and “same purpose”, and this is what draws us into our common commitment as Christians. It is having the mind of Christ to which we are all called in unity. And it is the cross of Christ, the foolishness that is revealed in this emptying of God’s power out on the cross to save us, that is the ultimate purpose and source of unity for us.

This is the good news of the gospel.

We are not saved by eloquent preaching, or great organizational style, or by unique worship or fellowship, but we are all saved by the great sacrifice made by the God of all creation – for all of us.

Brothers and sisters, we, the people of New Life Presbyterian Church have come from east and west, and from north and south. We have all been called to follow Christ. We have all been invited to the table and the great feast which Christ has prepared. Together. We can’t know for sure why God has brought us together in this time and this place, but here we stand as one congregation, in two places, in three worship services, from many backgrounds and neigborhoods, with many faith journeys. We do not know where God plans to take us, how God plans to use us. But we do know that we are united on one path and one purpose, serving one Lord, seeking to recognize and to show others the holy glimpses of the kingdom of God that are at hand among us all, right here and right now, and that will someday be fully revealed for all eternity.

So let us let go of everything that can hurt or divide us, that can push us off the path. Let us reach out to one another in love, let us practice truly loving one another, dropping the baggage of our divisiveness and dissension, and forgiving one another, so that we can truly show the love of God to all the world.

Let us walk this path together, following Christ in unity.