January 24, 2021
/The Third Sunday after the Epiphany
Mark 1: 14-20
The Rev. Canon Joann Saylors
I am one of those people who tends not to notice visual details in the landscape around me. When I’ve been out riding around with my husband in areas we go all the time, I can't tell you how many times I've said, "Huh. When did that building go up?" or "Huh. Where did that building go?", only to have him say, "They've been building that (or tearing that down) for eight months."
It will be happening right beside me, on the side of a familiar, well-traveled road, and I manage to drive by without even noticing. I guess I'm so focused on what's coming up, whether it’s on the road or in my life, that I stop seeing what's around me. Even the big things.
I wonder how long Jesus stood there before he spoke to Peter and Andrew. I imagine them hard at work, casting their nets, over and over. Commercial fishing is back-breaking work, and dangerous enough to require all of your attention. It's not like that image of a guy sitting on the end of the dock with a line in the water, eating a sandwich. It's hard, physical labor, and if you don't catch, there goes your income. So Peter and Andrew would have been completely absorbed in their task, and Jesus could have been there a long time, standing quietly, waiting for them to notice him.
Same thing with James and John. They were doing a different kind of work that day, mending their fishing nets. It would have taken all their attention in a different way, looking down, tying knots, focused on details very close to them. So Jesus could have stood there for a while, too, patiently, silently, waiting for them to look up and see him.
And when James and John did look up, whenever Peter and Andrew noticed him, Jesus simply said, "Follow me." That completely shook them out of their routine, brought them right into the moment and to what - well, who - was before them. It had to. Because they left everything, nets, boat, father to follow Jesus. And both pairs, Mark says, did it immediately. No taking time to think about it, no excuses for why they couldn't go, no calculating what going with Jesus would do to their income, or their dating lives, or whatever. None of that. Immediately they left and followed him. I hope James and John at least said goodbye to their father. Otherwise there he'd be, standing there, mouth open, staring after them and wondering what had just happened.
Or maybe Zebedee had a sense of it. Maybe he looked up and saw what his sons saw, heard what his sons heard, and gently pushed them toward Jesus. Not counting the cost, not wondering who would help him fish, but encouraging his sons to be disciples, to follow their call.
Once they looked up and paid attention, Peter, Andrew, James and John recognized that they had a new vocation and they embraced it. Immediately. That's not really like my conversion experience. I didn't have a dream, or a vision, where I saw Jesus in front of me, inviting me to follow. There was no "immediately" at the beginning of my journey. I'd like to say there was no taking time to think about it, no excuses for why I couldn't go, no calculating what going with Jesus would do to my life choices. But that's not the way it happened.
I mean, Jesus was right there before me; God was in my life in all sorts of ways. I just didn't notice until much later, in hindsight. There were opportunities. My best friend in elementary school was Southern Baptist, and every time we went to her church, I was invited to come forward for a conversion moment. I went two different times, which you aren’t supposed to do, but there were no bright lights or scales falling from my eyes. Just pressure to fit in. Later, I was confirmed as a young teen, and, as an adult, I wandered in and out of lots of churches. But I was mostly focused on my life, my security, and my future. It took me a long time to look up.
I haven't seen any studies on this, but I think there may be more of us who come to follow Jesus like that. I don't doubt the reality and power of the conversion moment, because I've talked with people who had them, but my experience has been that they are more the exception than the rule. I think more of us take a while to get there, and move in a series of steps. That kind of conversion is real and powerful too.
Which is why I am grateful that the passage from Mark is grouped with the story of Jonah in our lectionary, because Jonah’s conversion is more of a process. Although, weirdly, the part we mostly remember from Bible stories isn’t in our lectionary at all. The book of Jonah begins with a section called “Jonah Tries to Run Away from God.” That’s where God tries to send Jonah to Nineveh, so Jonah jumps on a ship going the opposite direction. Which leads to God’s trying to get Jonah’s attention with a storm. His shipmates figure that out and, at Jonah’s instruction, toss him overboard. Interestingly, that is their conversion moment. Jonah’s comes after he is swallowed by a big fish, while he is praying inside its belly. Ultimately the fish spits him out, and we pick up the story today with God speaking to Jonah a second time, now that he is paying attention.
That long and epic voyage feels a lot more like my story was than any sort of “Come and see.” “OK,” “Immediately!” “OK.” But really, I’m not sure it matters. Because, perhaps disappointingly, we don’t get Brownie points for being the first ones to raise our hands with the right answer. Following Jesus isn't really about that moment of decision, after all.
I’m not saying it isn’t important. Making a commitment is essential, but it's just the beginning. Following Jesus is a lifelong vocation. The vocation that comes before all the others, and the vocation that shapes all the others. It's the vocation that calls us out of our routines to see Jesus, over and over. It's not one moment of yes, it's a whole series of yeses. Yeses that wear away the bits of our lives that obscure the image of God in us. All kinds of yeses, different for each of us. Yes to speaking words of healing and prayer instead of hurt. Yes to going far out of our way to deliver groceries to someone shut in. Yes to carving out time from other possibilities for prayer and Bible study, or writing a note to a family who has lost a loved one. Yes to working for justice or peace. Yes to whatever way God is calling us to serve.
You've all said yes at least once. You're listening this morning, after all. I don't know if that was an easy yes or a hard one. Yeses come in both flavors. And the way to get to where you can say yes to the difficult parts of following Jesus is to say yes first to the easy parts. That creates a pattern or a habit. First you see Jesus and hear the call, whatever it is, you discern that it is in fact God calling, and then you say yes. You say yes again, and again. Sometimes there are no’s sprinkled in there. But you keep saying yes.
And God keeps offering more chances to say yes. Every day I get more chances. Some choices are easy – get up to pray or roll over and go back to sleep? Some are more difficult. Like invitations to reach out to people who really frustrate me. Or examining myself instead of judging others, tempting as that is. But when I say yes. What seems hard becomes do-able and what seems insurmountable becomes surprisingly possible.
I’ve found that the wonderful thing about saying yes is that it makes Jesus easier to spot. If anything takes me out of the distractions of worry, and fear, and self-sufficiency and makes God manifest in the world around me, it’s saying yes. Over and over. And it makes me much more attuned to what God is doing in the world, how Jesus shows up in the lives of people around me. Not to mention my own life. Often that happens when I’m looking where a friend or some other wise spiritual guide is pointing. “Don’t you see? That’s God working.” The Holy Spirit is moving - in that funny coincidence you can’t quite dismiss. God is there - answering your prayers, just in ways you didn’t expect. Jesus is there - in that story all over Facebook that restored your faith in humanity after a really bad day. Every single one of us has these moments. We just need to look up and see Jesus.
As Church, we need each other to be able to do that. No scientist makes a discovery without depending on the work of the other scientists who have gone before, and none of us becomes a better follower of Christ without depending on His work, and the model of the saints who surround us, in this realm and the heavenly one. They are the ones who have gone before and will go along to help you see, and the ones to whom you will return the favor. It’s what we promise at baptisms: to do all in our power to support one another in our lives in Christ. Epiphany is a season celebrating God’s being made known, and together we can enjoy a life where we come to expect epiphanies all around us.
It’s funny. “Follow me” has come to be language we use for Twitter or Facebook when we want to know everything someone says, hear everything they want to share about their lives. We get to choose who we follow, people who amuse or inspire us or people who reinforce our worst instincts. Jesus doesn’t have a Facebook account, at least outside of memes, but he is asking us to follow him. When the world feels so heavy, what with pandemics and politics and too much family time and anxiety about the future, don’t let cynicism or fear blind you. Don’t get so distracted that you miss seeing Jesus. Because “come and see” happens all the time. Notice him there in front of you and say yes. Then say yes again, over and over.
Follow Jesus, and bring a friend along, because I promise, it’s the journey of a lifetime and a journey you won’t regret. AMEN.