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The Reverend Mark Byers
Preached at St. Gabriel’s Episcopal Church, Leesburg, Virginia
January 22, 2006- Year B, 3 Epiphany

The Undiluted Jesus

If you have the sort of faith that started out at a run and just got faster, then this sermon isn’t primarily for you. And by this, I mean the kind of faith that would cause you to drop the nets and walk away from the boats, walk away from your livelihood, walk away from security. If you have never doubted, you might not get much from what I’m about to say. So feel free to listen in, but don’t feel bad if it sounds like this stuff doesn’t apply directly to you. This message is for Zebedee and his workers, the ones who heard the message, maybe even believed it, but didn’t feel compelled to run after Jesus. This is for slow-hearted people like me, who hear Jesus, but sometimes secretly hope that he’s talking to someone else.

John the Baptist got himself arrested. To some, this was probably hard news to hear. To others, they may have secretly been saying, “Well, what the heck did the fool expect, running around looking like a hobo, eating bugs and honey, and babbling about the kingdom of God?” Sensible people don’t do what John did, right? They live with the world that they see and know, because that’s all there is. When modern American Christians talk about the power of the Gospel, they often mean it primarily in a very personal sense: “Jesus saved me.”

John the Baptist got himself arrested, and then right afterwards, Jesus came to Galilee. And he started saying the same sort of stuff that got John arrested. “The time is fulfilled, and the kingdom of God has come near; repent, and believe in the good news.”

Simon and Andrew being young and prone to impulsive behavior, they heard Jesus and maybe they thought, “It’s about time! Now things are really going to get shaken up! God is going to act. Who knows, maybe we’ll toss the Romans out, or overthrow King Herod?” They dropped the nets and left their boat. Then Jesus came across James and John, and they ran after him, too. Maybe Papa Zebedee understood. Maybe he just had that sinking feeling that a parent gets hearing a teenager say, “Mom, Dad: I’m not going to college after all. I’m moving to Los Angeles with my band.”

It becomes abundantly clear as the story of Jesus Christ unfolds that Simon, Andrew, James, and John really had no idea what they were getting into when they dropped the nets. Indeed, up until Jesus Christ was hanging on the cross, I don’t think they believed his predictions of his own death, and I don’t think they fully understood what he was teaching. And I think that every Sunday, and throughout the rest of the week, each of us probably has the best of intentions to try to follow Jesus, and the vast majority of us truly have no clue what the real cost of discipleship would be, if we were to try to pay it.

What would it cost each of us to forgive the ones we consider unforgivable? Not just the people we’re really mad at, but the ones we consider to be monsters. What would it cost each of us to live in truth in all of our relationships? What would it cost each of us if we were to hold those who have authority in government to account for their actions and untruths? What would it cost each of us were we to begin living our lives in real stewardship of the earth? Simon, Andrew, James, and John might be willing to follow, but they don’t really know what they’re getting into. Zebedee may or may not believe what Jesus is saying, but perhaps he’s old enough to worry that if Jesus rocks the boat enough, then the world may start to unravel.

This is one of the greatest crises of faith for me. If I turn the other cheek, will I be slapped harder? If I care for the oppressed and those in prison, will they turn on me or my neighbors later? If I feed the poor, won’t that just encourage them to be dependent? If I do what Jesus commanded in the way that he commanded it, if I love the people that I currently hate, won’t the world simply succumb to forces that are even more sinful and disobedient than I am?

Steve Cary, a friend of mine, who died a few years back, once said “How seriously should I take the instructions for dealing with enemies given to me by Jesus, whom I claim to be my guide, my brother, and my master?” Brushing aside Jesus’ teachings, Steve said, “has been made easier… by the efforts of theologians who for 2,000 years have found them too uncompromising and have looked for ways to temper them without repudiating their preacher…” Or, to paraphrase another preacher, we often say Jesus Christ is our Lord, but we really mean he’s our mascot.

It strikes me that many sinful things are disguised with lofty sentiments or urged on us with warnings of dire consequences. Maybe Zebedee was old enough that he had heard a few speeches filled with fine rhetoric but not much result. Maybe he had learned, ultimately, not to believe such things. Young people do seem more likely to be idealistic than those of middle years or older. It’s sad, too, because what is noblest in the human spirit is this God-given ability to believe, and to act according to belief, but too often, they drop the nets and run off after things that seem right in the moment, but prove false.

Jesus promises freedom and love and eternal life, but for so many of us, there are other, more seductive messages. Security. Prosperity. Power. Fame. Patriotism. They’re not bad things in and of themselves, but just as we ourselves were baptized into Jesus Christ in order to begin growing more like him, so these messages must submit to the power of the Gospel. Security must become Justice. Prosperity must become Generosity. Power over others must become the Power of God over all. Fame must become Witnessing to the Glory of God. Patriotism must become sharing all that is best about our people with every nation and people, with humility and a spirit of servanthood.

If Hollywood were writing the ending to this sermon, this commitment to being disciples of the undiluted Jesus Christ would result in our path being straightened and smoothed and unimpeded by any difficulty. But even though Hollywood loves a heart-warming ending, that’s not how God made the universe. Or rather, that’s not how God’s creatures have deformed this world. Sometimes we forgive, and we get hurt. Sometimes we love, and it doesn’t appear to do any good. Sometimes we pray, and it doesn’t feel like anyone is listening.

That’s why we have each other. Because with James and John and Simon and Andrew all following Jesus, when one of them is hurt or disillusioned, there are still other disciples to bolster their faith. Did you ever notice that in our liturgies, we acknowledge that life isn’t all peaches and cream? In our baptismal covenant, we promise to repent and return to the Lord whenever we fall into sin, not if. In our marriage liturgy, there is a prayer that asks God to give the couple grace that when they hurt each other, they may recognize their fault and seek forgiveness of one another and God. Again, not if, but when.

The kingdom of God is at hand, and Jesus calls us all to follow him, and to do the work of the Gospel. And it is like the kingdom of this world, in that God’s people still get hurt, and still doubt, and they still wonder whether the King really cares sometimes. But it is unlike the kingdom of this world, too, because there is healing for every wound, and there is glory that can bring us to the other side of doubt, and the king doesn’t simply sit in a palace and tell us what to do. The king moves among us to shape his realm and bring about his purpose.

Gospel work, work that changes what it touches, is tough. It gets people in trouble, like John. It takes them away from what they thought was important, like the disciples, and puts them on a new path. It changes hearts and minds and loyalties, because there can be no higher calling than to do what it is that God calls us to do. If you’re like me, sometimes maybe you’re a little slow to understand what God wants, or you have trouble leaving your comfort zone for the sake of the Gospel. Well, I hope we’ll push each other, we slow-hearted folks. I’m not seeing we need to get wild-eyed like John the Baptist and yell out the message. But maybe we might stir things up a bit: feed some poor folks, lift up our neighbors, make some powerful people uncomfortable, spread a little of the peace of Christ around this world of ours.

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