|
Communion Sunday
February 7, 2010
“Heavy, Deep and Real”
Reverend Michael D. PowellLuke 5:1-11 |
At a camp that Chris and Robert and I have done together we have a popular discussion group called Heavy Deep and Real. High school kids are drawn to it like moths to a flame. They discuss the Bible and their faith, and they're encouraged to bring their questions and their doubts. They're wrestling with what they believe, and they take the struggle seriously. These young disciples are looking for the truth, a truth that is relevant to their lives. They are searching for an encounter with the living Christ, and they like to get heavy. They want to be real. They're ready to go deep.
Are you ready to get heavy deep and real? All of us have questions about life and most of us have doubts about some of the answers we've been given. I seriously doubt that any of us would consider ourselves finished products, people who have it all figured out and whose faith never falters. But, to me, that’s ok. To me the important thing is that we be the kind of people who are ready to go deep and get real about our faith.
This morning's Gospel story makes some very interesting points. The first thing you'll notice is that when Jesus called his disciples they were involved in their normal, everyday working lives as fishermen. They weren't ascetics living in a monastery. They weren't huddled over ancient texts, lost in some esoteric study of an abstract deity. They had joined with others who had gathered to listen to Jesus preach there by the lakeside where they made their living, fishing and mending their nets. The point is that God is here and now, continually coming to us in the midst of an otherwise perfectly ordinary life. That’s where faith happens!
The second thing to notice is that they weren't having much luck. It's interesting how that works. Call it holy failure or sacred dissatisfaction. You're working hard, but something in your life is not working. Maybe you've been casting your nets and coming up empty. Anyone ever experience that feeling? That frustrating feeling of emptiness often has a way of opening our eyes and our ears to an encounter with the living Christ. Thank God for that restless, empty feeling, it may be preparing you to go deeper and become more real.
In fact, that’s exactly what Jesus said to Peter. “You have to go deeper," he said. And, true to his human nature, Peter resists. Don't we all find ourselves resisting? Peter questions and objects, just like we all do, because there's something in us that always seems to think we know ourselves better than God knows us. But, because the holy spirit of failure, fear and hope are so often commingled with acts of faith, Peter finally does what Jesus told him to do. There comes a time when you have to fish or cut bait, even when you don't understand. Peter goes deeper and casts his nets again, and a miracle occurs. They start catching more fish than they know what to do with.
After that miraculous catch of fish, Jesus tells them that from now on they will be "catching people." I think we all know what that means. Traditionally, it’s called evangelism, which simply means sharing the Good News of our faith. But a lot of us don't do that very well. We're shy fisher people, and a lot of times we don't feel comfortable with the traditional language of "witnessing to our faith," or "winning souls for Christ." Part of it is that we're not the type to knock on doors or aggressively proselytize, but it's more than that. Too often we miss the more subtle, passing moments when just a word might plant a seed, open a door, or sink the hook! It doesn't have to be aggressive or even particularly articulate. It just needs to be honest and heartfelt, an expression of who we are.
I think of the woman who was playing tennis with her good but quite secular friends. In a conversation break between sets she referred to something she had read that morning. It would have been easy to say, "I read something this morning." Instead, with no attempt at piety, she simply introduced one word. She said, "In my devotional reading this morning." It was not a major soul-winning engagement, but it sowed a seed, or at least opened a door for some further conversation. So often we think that we have to say something dramatic or profound, but more often it's simply an issue of being sensitive to another's need. Most of us have had those opportunities, and most of us carry the burden of knowing that at times we've been insensitive, that we've failed.
I read an article by a woman named Carolyn, who wrote about the day Lisa showed up at her door. Lisa was strikingly beautiful, so much so that Carolyn had been warned to stay on her guard. "All the women in the neighborhood worry about their husbands when Lisa's around," was the way one woman put it. Carolyn knew immediately that something was wrong. Lisa was obviously distraught and had a look of desperation about her. Her hands shook as she told Carolyn that she needed help.
Writing about that incident nearly 40 years later, Carolyn confessed a sense of regret: "I would like to say that I invited her in for a cup of soothing tea and a listening ear and said something about my faith, but I didn't. I'd even like to say that I prayed for Lisa after she left, but I didn't. I would like to say that I followed up and checked to see how she was doing . . . but I didn't." What happened is that she told Lisa she just didn't feel qualified to help and advised her to seek counseling. Lisa left within just a few minutes - and two weeks later she committed suicide.
Now, Carolyn wasn't writing the article 40 years later because she blamed herself for Lisa's suicide, that wasn't the point. It was simply that the dramatic ending of the story still serves as a vivid reminder that we're all presented with opportunities to be a companion to someone along the way, to share something of the comfort, strength and nourishment that our faith has provided for us. But, for a whole variety of very human and completely understandable reasons, we often refuse the opportunity. I know there have been people who have reached out to me but, for whatever reason, I resisted. Like Carolyn, like Peter, so often we just feel inadequate, unworthy. Sometimes I think that it’s just that we’re afraid of getting in over our heads, of going too deep or getting too real.
This morning we're sharing in the sacrament of Holy Communion and I'm always amazed that, in spite of the diversity of our beliefs and experiences, we still manage to be One Body in Christ. We’re strange bread fellows! Not bedfellows - bread fellows! We are called to be companions on a spiritual journey, and the word companion is from two Latin words, com (which means "with") and panis (which means "bread"). The word companion literally means "with bread," or, as Webster says, "a bread fellow."
Together we are nourished by the Bread of Life, and our mission is to offer that same heavy, deep and real nourishment to others. As we gather to share the Bread of Life, let's remember that we are all companions on the way. We're bread fellows, sharing with others that which has been shared with us. In Christ's name, as Christ's Body, we gather and pray. Amen.