Deuteronomy
30:11-14; Romans 108b-18; Matthew 4:18-22
Given that we’re celebrating the feast of
St. Andrew this morning, that Gospel reading we heard doesn’t seem to tell much
of a story about our patron saint. Jesus
is walking by the Sea of Galilee, where he sees Peter and his brother, Andrew –
playing second fiddle from the very start, at least in Matthew’s telling. They’re busy trying to make a living, doing
what commercial fishermen do, casting nets into the sea. And Jesus yells out to them, “Follow me, and
I will make you fish for people” (4:19).
And that’s it, at least as this story goes. They leave their nets and their boat and
follow him. The reading goes on to say
the same thing about James and John. They’re working hard; Jesus calls them;
and they take off. End of story.
Well, maybe there was a little more
backstory than that. The section before
today’s reading describes Jesus beginning his public ministry in Galilee. “From that time, Jesus began to proclaim,
‘Repent, for the kingdom of heaven has come near” (Matthew 4:17). My hunch is that Andrew and Peter and James
and John had heard Jesus teach and preach.
They must have had some idea
what he was proclaiming before they signed on.
But still, I do think there’s something important in the way Matthew
tells the story of their call. Andrew and
Peter and James and John are hard at work.
They’re doing what they’re supposed to do. And Jesus just interrupts them – probably
pretty rudely, from the perspective of James and John’s father, who’s left
holding the fishing nets. Jesus’ call is
anything but convenient.
If we look at Andrew’s experience in the
rest of Scripture, this story of interruption continues. The way John’s Gospel describes Andrew’s call,
he’s a disciple of John the Baptist first – but when Jesus comes on the scene, his
presence pulls Andrew away. Later on, in
the story of the feeding of the 5,000, Andrew sees a huge crowd about to
descend on Jesus, so he stops to try to solve the problem. Andrew finds a boy with five loaves and two
fish – at least a start for the banquet Jesus eventually sets. (John 6:8-9) And later still, on Palm Sunday, as Jesus rides
into Jerusalem in triumph, Andrew hears from some Greeks, outsiders in the
crowd. They, too, want to see Jesus –
and Andrew makes it happen. (John 12:22)
Interestingly, we never hear about a normal day for Andrew, or the other
disciples. The stories come when life
gets in the way.
Well, after Pentecost, when the Holy
Spirit empowered Andrew and the rest to be apostles sent in mission beyond Jerusalem,
we don’t know exactly what became of Andrew.
Some traditions tell of him going to Ethiopia. Others have him traveling to what’s now
Ukraine and Russia – and Andrew is the patron saint of Russia for that
reason. Most traditions say he
ministered in what’s now Greece and was martyred there, crucified on an
X-shaped cross. (No, he never went to
Scotland, but his remains did, centuries later.) Wherever Andrew was, I imagine he kept
looking for interruption, because that’s how it works, being an apostle: Ministry comes when life gets in the way.
In fact, I’d even take it one step
further. God comes when life gets in the way. I believe we find Christ, the Word made
flesh, most vividly in the interruptions that come into our productive,
predictable, well-ordered lives – both the interruptions we create and the interruptions
we allow.
One of the great hymns about St. Andrew
says, “Jesus calls us o’er the tumult of our life’s wild, restless sea.” I suppose that’s true, but I think, even more
often, Jesus calls us in the tumult –
not shouting over the demands of our work and our lives to get our attention,
but talking to us directly through the
demands of our work and our lives.
Andrew didn’t have to set off on a special spiritual quest to find an
encounter with God. God came to work to
find him.
Our day-to-day, crazy, boring, draining
lives are the dwelling place of the Most High God. So what you, and I, and all of us need to do
is to listen for the interrupting, inconvenient voice of Jesus in the midst of the
plans we make and the work we do. I’m
not necessarily very good at that. Too
often, I’m looking for the finish line – or at least the rest stop at the end
of the day – rather than looking to see who’s calling out from the
sideline. I have to be intentional to
let myself be interrupted. Maybe you do,
too.
Let me tell you about some people who are
doing a good job of that, in the category of interruptions we create. Joe Kessinger and I were having a drink a few
weeks ago, and the conversation went to a place we both knew well: being a
middle-aged guy. One of the challenges
for lots of middle-aged guys is that we’ve gotten pretty good over the years at
mapping out our days and weeks. There’s
a lot to be done – not all of it work, but most of it scheduled. So Joe said something to the effect of, “We
need an opportunity for middle-aged guys to stop and let God get a word in
edgewise.” I agreed wholeheartedly. So, long story short: Joe contacted several guys he knows, and I
looked for some study resources, and voilà – we have a group of guys choosing
to interrupt their schedules every couple of weeks to reflect on what God’s up
to in their lives. It’s MAGIC –
Middle-Aged Guys Inspired by Christ. If
you want to find out more, talk to Joe or me.
Here’s what’s magical about conversations
like this, conversations that happen in the interruptions: Jesus comes to take part. I believe that with everything I’ve got. Jesus is there
in the interruptions – those we create, like this men’s group, and in those we
allow. Here’s an example of one of
those.
I was talking with a parishioner on the
phone the other day; and at the end of the conversation, he said, “Have you got
a minute for something else?” I was driving
somewhere, but I did have a few minutes to get there, so on we went. He said, “Help me know what to think about
the Syrian refugees.” As you know, following
the attack on Paris, there had been news stories about proposals to exclude
Syrian refugees from entering the U.S., or to allow in only Christian Syrians
(as if no self-professed Christian ever shot down defenseless people). So, my conversation partner said, “Help me
know what to think about the Syrian refugees.
How do we love people but keep ourselves safe? What would Jesus do? I don’t think Jesus wants us to get ourselves
killed. But that’s basically what he did,
the way he loved people…..” That
conversation was probably the best 10 minutes of my week.
So in those holy interruptions we create
or interruptions we allow – what the heck are we supposed to say? I can hear people thinking, “I don’t know
enough about the Bible to be in a discussion group. What am I supposed to say?” And, I can hear people thinking, “I don’t
know the right answer about the Syrian refugees, and I’d probably get in
trouble for saying what’s on my mind.
What am I supposed to say?”
Well, we heard it twice in our readings
this morning: “The word is very near
you, on your lips and in your heart” (Deuteronomy 30:14; Romans 10:8b). And that Word boils down to this, what we
remind ourselves every week in the 8:00 Rite I service: “Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with all
thy heart and with all they soul and with all they mind … and … thou shalt love
thy neighbor as thyself” (BCP 324;
Matthew 22:37-40). Love God and love
neighbor – even if that neighbor is thousands of miles away. Love God and love neighbor – even if you don’t know the right answers to the
hardest questions. Love God and love
neighbor. If that’s your paradigm, Jesus
is right there in the conversation with you, on your lips and in your heart.
Those conversations matter, and here’s at
least one reason why: In this chaotic,
uncertain, isolating world of real life in 2015, people need Good News like
never before. And maybe the good news
they need most is the good news of relationship – the good news that someone
takes them seriously. Because when we
take people seriously – when we have a real conversation, when we can speak a
word of hope, when we can just show up and listen – when we take people seriously,
Jesus dwells in that relationship. The
Word becomes very near you, in your heart and on your lips and sitting right
beside you over a cup of coffee or a glass of wine. When we take each other seriously, we come to
see that we are not alone. We come to see that God shows up when we show
up. It’s in relationships that we get to
see the face of God.
So my challenge to you today is very
simple. Look for a way, each day, to
interrupt the tyranny of what you have to do by loving God and the person in
front of you. Look for a chance to listen
to someone. Look for a chance to reflect
out loud on what Jesus would do or say about the morning’s headlines. Look for a chance to speak hope and
blessing. And look for a chance to name
the presence of God in that process. As
simple, maybe even simplistic, as it sounds, naming faith brings faith
alive. When I believe out loud, it gives
someone else permission to try on the notion that this God stuff is more than kids’
bedtime stories. And when I believe out
loud, it makes me believe all the
more.
So let Jesus interrupt your day. Offer to pray for someone. Mention something life-giving the church has
to offer. Relate a story of God opening
some door for you in the midst of tough times.
Share a word that’s helped you move from fear to hope. Remember that the Word is very near you – at
your office or at Starbucks, at your book club or your gym, in a phone call or
a Facebook post. For the Word takes
flesh and dwells among us every time we take each other seriously enough to
stop, and listen, and love.
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