The Step After Confession
A sermon on Luke 5:1-11, Isaiah 6:1-8, I Corinthians 15:1-11, and Psalm 138.
[photo by Emiliano Vittoriosi on Unsplash]
I had kind of a quirky thought while pondering the lectionary readings for this week.
It’s perhaps not the most reverent response to holy scripture, and it’s definitely a bit anachronistic, but I couldn’t think of any other way to encapsulate what piqued my curiosity, so I’m just going to share it:
I wonder if H.R. professionals ever struggle with connecting to the biblical “call stories.”
I mean, think about it. There are does and do-nots for interview protocol, and while the do-nots list includes candidates over-selling their skills or experience, it also DEFINITELY includes bemoaning how “unworthy” they are.
Except, apparently, “I’m not worthy” is exactly how you get a job working for God according to today’s readings.
Isaiah, probably the most iconic of Israel’s prophets, in transported in a vision to God’s heavenly throne room and, uninvited, he launches into a self-flagellation monologue:
“Woe is me! I am lost, for I am a man of unclean lips, and I live among a people of unclean lips…”
After which speech… God’s angel touches his mouth with a cleansing coal, so that Isaiah can immediately respond to the invitation to be God’s messenger.
Simon Peter takes it a step further. He sees the evidence of Jesus’s power, falls to his knees, and begs Jesus to leave because he feels so unworthy to even share the same space:
“Go away from me, Lord, for I am a sinful man!”
Apparently, Jesus is not put off by this. Instead, he consoles and then commissions Simon Peter as a “fisher of people,” and calls him to “follow” Jesus.
And then there’s Paul. We don’t get his call story today – in that story Jesus was actually the one calling Paul out for his persecution of Jesus and his early followers – but we do get a snapshot of Paul’s self-perception in the after math:
“I am the least of the apostles,” Paul confesses, “unfit to be called an apostle, because I persecuted the church of God.”
The persecution is a fact, but none of that seems to disqualify him in God’s eyes from leading four missionary journeys, founding countless Christian communities, and writing about half of the New Testament.
Clearly, God’s interview criteria are wildly different from conventional H.R. processes.
And, really, that’s not surprising.
Because God’s church is not a business, and God’s mission is not dependent on recruiting top talent.
In fact, it’s more likely to be the opposite.
Psalm 138 reminds us that “the Lord is high, yet cares for the lowly, perceiving the haughty from afar.”
This is God’s pattern… to see, and value, and lift up those who don’t have an impressive resume, who haven’t benefited from advantages, who won’t automatically elevate God’s brand…
And the Psalmist tells us why: Because God perceives the haughty. God recognizes the mindset that comes along with arrogant self-satisfaction… and it is not what God is looking for.
God is looking for those who can see their own faults, and who know their weaknesses, because those are the people who will actually FOLLOW God, rather than suggesting their own plans and trusting their own abilities.
I think this understanding about God’s call process offers at least two important lessons for us:
First, it offers us a caution about how we evaluate the claims of the people who want us to follow them in one way or another.
Obviously, there are plenty of contexts in which it is right and reasonable for us to seek out competent guides.
When I have a medical need, I want a skilled and licensed doctor.
When I consume news media, I want to know it is reliable and hopefully insightful.
When I take a class, I want my teacher to present accurate information, using evidence-based instruction methods.
When I purchase food, I want to trust that it is not contaminated with something that will make my family sick.
But even in these contexts, I also want to work with people and institutions that are humble enough to admit when they have made a mistake, rather than blustering or trying to cover it up.
An honest confession of error is a lot more likely to earn my trust than a claim of infallibility.
Because NOONE is infallible other than God. And even God’s own prophets were not chosen for their faultlessness, but rather for their humility… for their willingness to see themselves honestly and to own what they saw.
When you start with “I’m not worthy” you don’t have to devote energy to proving your worthiness, you can just focus on the work you are called to do…
which is a good reminder for us as we evaluate those who ask for our trust.
That truth also connects to the second lesson: the reminder that we don’t need to try to sell ourselves to God.
If God’s greatest prophet, and disciple, and apostle were each called in the midst of being confronted by their own unworthiness, then why would we ever need to feel pressure to deserve God’s approval?
God doesn’t need or require our perfection.
Now, I will admit, as a “recovering perfectionist” (to borrow author Sarah Bessey’s phrase) this assurance does not automatically strike me as good news.
Because… I like being competent, and feeling like I have the skills and knowledge to handle the work God gives me. I like feeling worthy of my work.
It feels a lot less vulnerable that way.
It feels less vulnerable. But the opposite is actually true. It’s MORE vulnerable
Because when my value, or my legitimacy, or my calling depend on my worthiness, then those things are always up for debate… they are always at risk.
And there will always, at some point, be something at which I fail.
Which will be a catastrophe if I think the life of faith is a job interview where I have to impress the boss.
But it’s not.
The life of faith is a lot more like a group of fishermen cleaning their nets at the side of the lake after a night without a catch… feeling low and maybe a bit lost… but letting Jesus into their boats to teach, because at least they can do that… and when he’s done teaching… when they have sat at his feet and then he tells them to cast their nets again, even though that sounds pointless, doing it anyway because: “if you say so, I will.”
It's the faith that comes after failure… that is based not in our own confidence but in our trust in Jesus.
Debie Thomas offers a beautiful reflection on this story. She writes,
“I love that the story describes failure so honestly. I’m no fisherman, but I know what it’s like to work really hard at something that matters, and have nothing to show for my efforts when I'm done. I imagine we all do. I imagine we all know what’s it’s like to pour ourselves into a job, a relationship, a ministry, a dream — and come away exhausted, frustrated, thwarted, and done. But if Simon's experience is representative, maybe Jesus has a penchant for showing up at precisely such moments of loss and defeat. Maybe he has good reasons for asking us to return to old places of pain and failure. In any case, when he asks, he doesn’t stand at the shore and wave us forward; he steps into the boat and ventures into the deep water with us. Is his timing maddening sometimes? Yes. But maybe his timing is also perfect. Maybe we’re most open to epiphanies when we’ve exhausted our own resources, and know that we’ve got nothing much to lose in saying “yes” to one more attempt -- this time with Jesus at our side.”[1]
A lot of us are exhausted right now… or frustrated, thwarted, and done.
If someone were to interview us for the job of God’s messenger and truth and justice right now, I imagine most of us would say, “I’m not worthy.”
And that’s ok. We don’t have to be worthy.
We just have to also say to Jesus, when he calls us, “Yet if you say so, I will”
Thanks be to God.
