Sermon for January 25

Sermon for January 25th

This text, when it surfaces during our lectionary cycle, is often used as a call to go out and become Evangelists. The image that is used is to become a Fisher of Men. Although evangelism has sometimes been used for less than positive reasons (the upbuilding of a particular church, personal glory as a big church is a mark of a person’s spiritual prowess, or even the arrogant belief that our faith is the absolute right version of faith and thus needs to be imparted to the world, leading to horrors such as the residential schools), it originated with the best of intentions. If I have come to know of God’s love, why wouldn’t I want to share it? Why wouldn’t I want to talk about how much God loved me, and all the ways that I have experienced that love in my life? We are comfortable sharing other important and exciting parts of our life, even down to the television shows that we are currently watching. When we are excited and moved by something, we want to share it with others, and we hope they will have the same experience we did. But sometimes there is a hang up surrounding our faith. We don’t want to share it as often as we could. There are many reasons for this, but one may be that we want the person to respond as we would respond, and when they respond differently than we expect, it frustrates us.

I might have a conversation with someone who is exploring their faith. We may talk about it at great length over the course of weeks and then this person finally comes to a decision to go to church, but it isn’t where I attend. I, a dyed-in-the bone Lutheran might believe that the Lutheran church is the clearest expression of God’s message. But that may not be the case for my new friend. Their journey may lead to the Catholic church, or the Baptist church, or the free evangelical church. That, as it turns out, is a little disheartening. I would have loved it if they would have come to my church.

But what truly matters in that moment is that he has found something that gives him life when a short time ago, he had been searching for something, anything, that would feed him spiritually. So, if that is discovered in a Lutheran church or another denomination altogether, then the person in question has still found what they were looking for and that is something to be celebrated. My own ego needs to be put in check.

Evangelism, often an uncomfortable word for people, is truly only meant to be a way of sharing the Good news. It is not a marketing ploy. It is not an act of spiritual violence. It is about this story, the story of God’s great, dramatic, saving grace, which has meant so much for us and now we hope it can mean something to someone else. It is an act of love, and one way of being an instrument of God’s love in this world.

That’s what this text is often been used to highlight. And as we are still early in this new year, we can still work to incorporate this into our daily routine. What would it mean to speak about our faith in our day to day lives and not be ashamed or self conscious about it, or expect a particular outcome from our efforts? We should not look at Evangelism as coercion and manipulation. We should not look at it as a way to prove our faithfulness to God. Rather, it is an opportunity simply to share something beautiful with the people that we meet. All we can do is plant the seed. Where it goes from there is up to God. This is not a call to arms. This not a challenge upon which hangs our mortal souls. It is an opportunity to talk about our faith and witness to our faith through everything that we do. It is, in the end, an invitation for us to share and be open about something that is the cornerstone of who we are as Christians.

All we can do in this process is to be open and honest and genuine as we share God’s love. We can control how we approach such conversations. We can not control how someone else may respond to what we say. And perhaps that is the biggest reason we are still reticent about sharing our faith. Too many people, we think, will respond negatively. We have all heard the saying that we should not discuss religion and politics in polite company. We know those topics can be extremely contentious issues. Part of this may originate from how a topic such as faith is presented. If I am belligerent, then someone else may become belligerent in response. But we can’t always mitigate how someone will respond, even if we chose to talk about God in gentle ways. And that reality is touched upon in the first part of the text, which is so often ignored.

In the text, it is noted that Jesus learns about the arrest of John the Baptist. John, of course, was not just a fellow worker for the kingdom of God, but also Jesus’ cousin. His persecution would have affected Jesus, both personally and in terms of his ministry. Personally, he was likely worried about his cousin. We don’t know how close they were, but they were still family and it hurts when we know a family member is in trouble. But second, John’s ministry was a similar one to Jesus, and John had met an ugly fate. That must have hit Jesus hard. He knew where this was going to end. He knew what was going to happen if he kept challenging the authorities and speaking truth to power. But now, he was faced with the ugly reality of it. The world was going to push back against his message. It had cost John so much and would soon cost him everything. It was going to cost Jesus as well. He knew that. So, for a moment, he withdrew, likely seeking a safer location, but also, perhaps, to sit with the grief that came from hearing about John.

It points to the reality of John’s ministry, Jesus’ ministry, and even our own. It comes with risk. It comes with knowing that as loving and gentle as we endeavour to be in our life as a Christian, it will always come with risks, especially if we seek to follow in Jesus’ path through the help of the Holy Spirit. To do so means we aren’t following imperial Christianity, which wants to align itself so intentionally with the powers of Empire and be agents of the status quo, as opposed to agents of necessary change. Imperial Christianity is safe, sanctioned, and protected. To follow Christ is not. When we offer God’s love in true and honest ways, done for the sake of the person we are engaging, it is a threat to Empire. It is a threat to exclusion. It is a threat to hate. To follow Jesus, even should we comport ourselves as gentle caretakers of a beloved story, will put us in the crosshairs of Empire and we must understand this. To share God’s love and serve the Risen Saviour is a dangerous business. To hold hands and sing hymns of love when the world around us is going to war is a dangerous business. To express love to all people and to offer to all people the story of the love that has meant so much to us is a dangerous business. Jesus knew it. John came to know it. The martyrs and servants of the Gospel throughout history have come to know it. It isn’t safe. It was never safe.

But it is good, and pure, and true. To offer that love that God first gave to us is so beautiful and so necessary. To stand in solidarity with another because God’s love would ask no less of us, is so necessary. To sing in the face of angry, hate filled rhetoric is so necessary. Never will it be safe, but the love that has claimed us can do nothing less, if our own fears don’t silence the voice of God’s love in our heart. If we can let go, and not let fear have the last word, then love does indeed win and whether we know it or not, the story of God’s love trips from our tongues and springs to life in our actions. Then, we will be fishers of men, as we offer them the great gift of God’s love that captured our hearts and set our feet upon the path of faith.

Amen