Calling

The Second Sunday in Advent, Mark 1:1-8

​Each year during Advent, John the Baptist shows up, like some cranky uncle from out of town trying spoil the holidays. And he means business. His message is stern. Clean up your act!  Get yourselves baptized, and get ready, because God is about to do something big. 

John was following in the line of another wilderness prophet, Isaiah, right down to his funky wardrobe. And I, for one, wonder why?  Why were Isaiah and John called to that type of ministry? No doubt John could have minded his manors and stayed in his home town, abided by the rules of his religion and become a rabbi. Respectable. Enjoying a better diet. So why would John choose to head out to the wilderness and follow in the prophetic tradition of Isaiah? Hold that thought.

The author of Mark sets out to write the first Gospel. No one had done that before. And I’m imagining that if someone set out to do such a thing, they’d probably approach it chronologically. Start from the beginning and tell the story until the end. But Mark doesn’t do that. Rather, he begins poetically, The beginning of the good news of Jesus Christ, the Son of God.
 
From the opening line of the very first Gospel, Mark reveals what this new thing is that prophets of old have been proclaiming, from Isaiah on down to John, and eventually to Jesus.  It’s the beginning of the good news. And then Mark begins by quoting the words of Isaiah from those familiar ancient texts. 
 
I am sending my messenger ahead of you who will prepare your way; the voice of one crying out in the wilderness; Prepare the way of the Lord, make his paths straight, like a highway in the desert.   
 
And Mark continues with John proclaiming, "There is one who is more powerful than I coming after me: I am not worthy to stoop down and untie his sandals.  I have baptized you with water, but he will baptize you with the Holy Spirit."
 
Mark’s Gospel is the earliest and the leanest.  There are no fanciful birth narratives.  Other gospel writers will draw heavily from Mark, adding many other things and missing details. In fact, from the beginning of Mark’s Gospel, Jesus is already thirty years old. And in Mark, just sixteen verses into the first chapter, Jesus is already calling disciples to follow him.  And how does Mark describe that?  Jesus sees two brothers, Simon and Andrew, repairing their fishing nets, and Jesus says to them, “Follow me.”  And they immediately got up, left their nets behind and followed him. 

Now, I appreciate Mark’s use of brevity, but you know it didn’t work like that.  Callings rarely unfold like that. 
 
I for one, believe that even if someone feels like God may be calling them to something, it is rarely clear in the beginning as to what that is. Even the Biblical characters did not act upon such callings robotically like they have no say in the matter.  Including Jesus. There would be no story in that.  Why?  Because we are human beings and we all have stories. We all have different life experiences and gift and talents and desires and interests. Dare I say callings? 
 
Have you ever experienced something that you would describe as a calling? Not just a desire, but a calling?  The youth pastor saying, “I feel called by the Lord to take the youth group skiing in Aspen for a week.”  That’s a boondoggle, not a calling.  I’m describing something you just can’t stop thinking about, even if you wish you could? It may begin as an idea.  A possibility or opportunity you wish to explore.  Perhaps it’s the kind of thing you don’t want to tell anyone about because you worry they might think you’re crazy.  O because you don’t want anyone to destroy that dream unfolding inside of you. And you keep thinking about it, start praying about it and researching what would be involved?  What sacrifices would have to be made?  Because I tend to believe that all true callings involve some level of sacrifice.    
 
When I was in grade school but old enough to write, we had one of those What Do You Want to Be When You Grow Up, exercises.  I mean, who has a clue at seven or eight years of age what they want to do with their life?  Well, I wrote my little paper saying I want to be a minister when I grow up.  And it was something I never stopped thinking about. From time to time my mother would hall out that paper just to be sure. For the next twenty years I couldn’t stop thinking about it. 
 
When I was in high school, my minister asked me to have lunch with him. I was horrified.  My first thought was, What does he know?  And my second thought was, Who told him?  So, after a few minutes of chit chat in the booth at Red Lobster, he simply asked me a question, David, have you ever thought about becoming a minister?  I said No.  Then for the next hour I proceeded to ask him questions about ministry. Questions like, What do you do all week?  Where do your sermon ideas come from?  And after years of attending church, listening to thousands of sermons, I started attending a church in a different denomination from the one in which I was raised, where my life-long calling became clear. It all made sense.  And I knew it was time to take the plunge. 
 
And that’s quite often how it happens.  My hunch is John the Baptist didn’t march out into the wilderness and set up shop on a whim.  Something had been churning in him, nudging him until he finally took the plunge.  Maybe he’d become disillusioned by what he saw as the unholy alliance between the established religion of the day and the government being run by the occupying Romans?  And maybe he knew there were enough other people who didn’t like it either, and who would follow him out to the desert and get baptized, because they too hungered for something new—something authentic. 
And so too with Jesus.  He didn’t just remove his carpenter’s apron one day and lay it down on the work bench and walk out. Maybe he too was tired of the way things were.  Maybe he was tired that there were still so many uneven and unfair places in the world; too many crooked places in the world; too many rough places and too many mountains and obstacles for poor people to climb.  Or maybe he couldn’t stand walking past the rotting corpses, strung up on poles by the Romans on the outskirts of town as a warning to any who considered causing trouble… while the religion looked the other way. The price of doing business.   And finally, one day he’d had enough, and decided there is a much better way to live, and he wanted to show lost, hungering, searching, people a better way.  So, he too headed to the wilderness and was baptized by John before he began his own ministry.  And over time, and looking back on his life, at least for the faithful, Jesus would become the Christ, the embodiment of the one who was to come. The Light of the World. The Prince of Peace, proclaiming good news.  
 
Advent is a time of waiting, preparation and anticipation.  Now, I want to be very careful here. We are a congregation waiting for one who is to come.  Now, I am not saying that our next pastor will be our savior, or needs to possess all the qualities and characteristics of Jesus himself.  But we are entering a time of waiting… for the next pastor to come.  And I want you to consider this.  This person is already out there.  Somewhere in God’s wide world, doing something. They may be perfectly content at this moment and are not looking for a change.  Or this person could be experiencing a sense of restlessness. An itch. Perhaps they had a conversation with someone at Red Lobster?  Or perhaps a private conversation between spouses or partners has taken place, the kind of intimate conversation only two people deeply in love can have, and it was agreed upon that perhaps it was time to look for something new, together.  Calls come in many forms.  Sometimes from out of nowhere, sometimes after years of struggle, sometimes from that still small voice…that just won’t be quiet. 
 
Friends, our next pastor is out there. And I hope you will pray for the search committee in the days and months ahead.  And I hope you will join me now, as we take a few moments and pray for our next pastor, whoever that person may be.
 
Let us pray,
 
O God, we are a grateful congregation.  For the last ten years, we have been richly blessed by the ministry of Sal Sapienza.  He has faithfully led us, guided us, and nurtured us, to this point where we celebrate all that he and Gregg have meant to us, even as we begin the process of moving into a new and different future.  O God, you are always doing a new thing in our world and lives. So, God of all mystery and source of all light, we ask you to begin stirring in the heart of our next pastor. If they are settled and content, send your Spirit of restlessness.  If they are actively searching, may they find their way to our church’s profile. If they are desiring change but are uncertain if now is the right time, free them from any anxiety and empower them to trust in you for all things. May they begin to hear and listen to the still small voice inside of them.  For it is with deep faith, and a good bit of confidence that we wait for the one who is to come.  We pray this in the name of the one who came long ago, Jesus Christ our Lord.  Amen.                         
- Rev. Dr. David A. Van Dyke

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