June 7, 2009
Isaiah 6:1-8
Luke 1: 26-38
"Here I Am Lord: Send Me!"
There is real drama in the Isaiah passage as there is in many of the Bible's memorable passages.
Isaiah enters the Temple into the heart of the inner sanctum where God sits on a throne. There Isaiah encounters angels with six wings each, flying above God's head and calling out "Holy, Holy Holy is the Lord of hosts!" Isaiah trembles with absolute fear, and then an angel approaches him and burns his lips clean with fiery charcoal. Then God calls, "Whom shall I send, and who will go for us?" And Isaiah boldly declares, "Here am I; send me!"
For decades after that simple, bold statement, Isaiah and his followers kept the word of God alive for the children of Israel; a word of mercy and judgment, grace and forgiveness, pain and great joy.
What a marvelous scene; what drama, what a perfect ending. This should leave us all with a great feeling and with an almost irresistible urge to follow suit and cry out, "Send me! I am your man! I am your woman! Send me!"
But so often when I hear this story of the beginning of Isaiah's long prophetic career, I am reminded of Peter and his story.
Peter was brave and courageous and inspiring. Peter rose above his fellow disciples, looked Jesus in the eye, and told Jesus that he was wrong, that no matter what any one else did, Peter would never betray or abandon Jesus. No matter what happened, even in the face of death, Peter would never run. Peter would stand by Jesus no matter what.
That is what Peter said. But of course that is not what Peter did. Peter lied, hid, and fled when Jesus needed him the most. At the end of the day, Peter wept. Courageous promises that in the dark of night proved hollow. In the end, Peter earned no medal for bravery; he was in dire need of forgiveness. Big words, very small action.
The problem is words such as Isaiah's and Peter's are not mere words to be spoken at our convenience or when we are feeling especially holy or good or brave. They are words of commitment, words of consequence spoken to God.
Words of consequence change lives. Yesterday on this spot there were two weddings that could not have been more different. One was a young African American couple, Stephen and Damita. They laughed and almost played with each other and those in attendance. When they left they jumped over a broom as a symbol of the old being swept away and a new path swept clean before them.
The other couple was from the German congregation; their names were Gita and Timm with two "m's". The music was all Bach, Mozart, and Pachabel and the readings were in German, Flemish, and English. It was formal and set and lovely.
Two very different weddings. But in essence they were the same. Both couples promised to stay with each other no matter what happens. They both promised to love each other until death do them part. They both made these bold pronouncements to each other in God's presence in spite of the odds that say their vows will not last, in spite of the statistics that say marriage is a 50/50 proposition at best.
I can describe the weddings and the words exchanged. But I cannot tell you about the marriages. They are just beginning and no one knows what they will bring. The vows were brave and beautiful and of deep, life changing consequence. Without these words and the commitment they convey, the marriages could not be born; but no one knows where the marriages will go. In a sense that is what God asks us to do all the time. "Whom shall I send?" "Here I am Lord! Send me!"
Most of the time when we believe God is calling or Jesus is asking us to follow him, we calculate our response; we seek a little room to maneuver; we want time to ponder our options. We are more like the young rich man than Isaiah.
You remember him, right? He came to Jesus and asked, "What do I have to do to gain eternal life?" Jesus said, "Well, you need to follow the Ten Commandments." The rich young man said boldly, "Great, I already do that." Then Jesus said, "You need to do a little more. You need to give all of your possessions to the poor, and then come and follow me."
Jesus gave him no room, no time. The man wanted to hold something back, to keep some of his wealth and his power, and he wanted to negotiate a little, to protect himself. The man wanted to be good, but not that good. But Jesus gave him no room and the man decided to silently walk away, saddened because he possessed a great deal.
Saddened because he was unable and unwilling to answer the call: "Come, and follow me." Saddened because he lost the opportunity to walk with Jesus, to find and live the Word of God. Sadness was born. Sadness was born as the man turned and walked away.
Who did answer the call? Who gives us an example we can understand and perhaps someday follow? I offer Mary; not just Mary at Christmas time but all the time. Mary's response to the call must be as close to perfect as any mere mortal has ever come.
The call to Mary comes with the perfect warning: "Fear not." It comes with vague promises of future glory and goodness and it comes with lots of drama that we love to hear about. But at its core, the call is so disruptive.
Mary's life is to be changed if she answers this call. She will be a pregnant teenager with no visible father of her child. Her life will be unhinged, all the plans she must have had, and the future she must have imagined will be undone. And this child she is to carry seems so strange, so different. And yet she, Mary, will have to raise him, to care for him. Her life will never be the same. He will be wonderful, but in some unknown way he will be a sword that will pierce Mary's heart.
Yet, Mary responds: "So be it. Your will be done." In the face of real risk, real change, deep uncertainty and little if any information, Mary says, "Yes, your will be done." Mary gives birth to new life in that moment of commitment to God.
God calls. Jesus calls. We know the response we are called to make. We know there is to be no calculating, no guarantee of success or importance, and no assurance of an easy path, no time to sit back and see what develops.
When God calls, when Jesus stands in front of us and says, "Follow me", if we dare say "Here I am, Lord", we are taking a risk as great and deep as the everyday life of a pregnant teenager with no visible father, no visible means of support in sight. But if we hide, we will walk away in sadness knowing something wonderful has just left our lives.
That is how God works. We are called. You are called as members of the body of Christ to act as God and Jesus Christ would have you act; to step into the unknown world of faith and to utter words of deep and lasting consequence:
"Here we are Lord. Send us."
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