20 minute read
CALLED TO FAITH
Julie Smith
These days I spend more time than I would have anticipated in churches that are having some sort of trouble, or with pastors who are having some sort of trouble. Sometimes those two things are connected. Sometimes they are not. I also spend a lot of time with churches that are looking for a pastor and have a lot of conversations with pastors who are looking for a church. As I go about this work, there are a couple of recurring themes that I find troubling. One is that a lot of churches do not respect the pastoral office. The other is that a lot of pastors do not respect the pastoral office. In particular, the office is not respected as a calling. That might manifest itself in congregations not seeing much value in having a properly trained pastor. It might also be demonstrated by pastors who think ministry is a career choice, and a particular call is one they will take or leave based on compensation or proximity to Target.
I don’t imagine that we will get to the bottom of that in our time together this week, but hopefully we will start to peel back some of the layers. Then maybe we will stop imagining that our present “clergy shortage” is something that is going to be solved with a clever program from a seminary or church headquarters. Rather, it will take a shift in the attitudes and expectations of all of us who have been called into Christ’s church. I’m not talking about adopting an authoritarian view in which everyone defers to the almighty pastor. I’m talking about remembering that the office of pastor is a holy calling and ought to be recognized as such, including by those who occupy that office.
I’m going to look at two aspects of the call to pastoral ministry. In this first session, we will hear the call to faith that is built into pretty much every call story we find in scripture. Tomorrow, we will consider the call to go, and our understanding that this is an itinerant vocation. So first, let’s take a look at some call stories of biblical figures, none of whom were actually called to pastoral ministry as we now practice it. And as you listen to these stories, if you find yourself thinking, “wait, she’s leaving out some important stuff,” we will get to that tomorrow.
Abram – Even When It Seems Impossible
If you have a Bible with you and like to follow along, please turn to Genesis 12:1-3. We will start with the call of Abraham, and the call to faith even when it seems impossible. “Now the LORD said to Abram, “. . . I will make of you a great nation, and I will bless you, and make your name great, so that you will be a blessing. I will bless those who bless you, and the one who curses you I will curse; and in you all the families of the earth shall be blessed.”1
I’m talking about remembering that the office of pastor is a holy calling and ought to be recognized as such, including by those who occupy that office.
The call of Abram kind of comes out of nowhere in Genesis. Everything before it is what biblical scholars refer to as “prehistory.” We get a lineage from Noah’s son Shem that finally arrives at Abram, son of Terah. But in the generations since God scattered the people after the tower of Babel fiasco; we have no stories of God interacting with the people between Shem and Abram. All we’ve got is a lineage. And then one day the Lord speaks to Abram, a relationship that leads to the great covenant that defines the Old Testament.
And the Lord makes a promise to this childless husband of a barren wife. “I will make of you a great nation.” At this point in his life, maybe Abram hoped he would die rich, and his nephew would be his heir. But as it stood, perhaps he would be remembered for one generation. As a childless person, this might be a little projection on my part. But the possibility that he would be the father of a great nation couldn’t really have been on his radar at this point.
In the list of things that are possible and things that are not possible, this falls squarely in the “not possible” category. A man with no sons can’t hope for something like this. But it’s into this moment, this circumstance in Abram’s life, that the Lord arrives with a promise. “I’m going to make of you a great nation. And not only that, in you all the nations of the earth will be blessed.” The Lord’s work in the world is going to be attached to Abram and his descendants.
The easiest response in the world to such a promise would be, “that seems unlikely.” Because it’s not something that Abram’s will or effort can possibly accomplish. That’s the trick to this whole business. It’s going to be the Lord’s work, carried out through Abram. And any time Abram or Sarai try to take that work into their own hands, things go awry. We see that with the Hagar episode. We see it when Abraham decides to protect Sarah by saying she is his sister, only to see her married off to another in Egypt.
The call of Abram is, first and foremost, a call for him to trust in the one who is calling. Trust in the one who has a mission he is carrying out in the world. And trust that he can accomplish what we cannot. This is an important thing for a pastor and a congregation to remember. God’s mission in the world is possible, even when it looks impossible to us. He is carrying it out in and through us, in spite of all evidence that we are barren and hopeless.
Moses – Even When We Are Afraid
For our second call story, we’re going flip to Exodus and the call of Moses, who was called in spite of his fear.
“Moses was keeping the flock of his father-in-law Jethro, the priest of Midian; he led his flock beyond the wilderness, and came to Horeb, the mountain of God. There the angel of the LORD appeared to him in a flame of fire out of a bush; he looked, and the bush was blazing, yet it was not consumed. Then Moses said, “I must turn aside and look at this great sight, and see why the bush is not burned up.” When the LORD saw that he had turned aside to see, God called to him out of the bush, “Moses, Moses!” And he said, “Here I am.” Then he said, “Come no closer! Remove the sandals from your feet, for Moses the place on which you are standing is holy ground.” He said further, “I am the God of your father, the God of Abraham, the God of Isaac, and the God of Jacob.” And Moses hid his face, for he was afraid to look at God. Then the LORD said, “I have observed the misery of my people who are in Egypt; I have heard their cry on account of their taskmasters. Indeed, I know their sufferings, and I have come down to deliver them from the Egyptians, and to bring them up out of that land to a good and broad land, a land flowing with milk and honey, to the country of the Canaanites, the Hittites, the Amorites, the Perizzites, the Hivites, and the Jebusites. The cry of the Israelites has now come to me; I have also seen how the Egyptians oppress them” (Exodus 3:1-9).
Most of us probably remember the burning bush story. We remember the command to Moses to remove the sandals from his feet because he was standing on holy ground. I had forgotten the line that Moses was afraid to look at God. Of course, that’s a recurring theme in the Old Testament, but somehow, I had forgotten all about it.
Moses has had a rather complicated life up to this point. Pharaoh had attempted to kill him and all the other Hebrew baby boys. His mother, his sister, even Pharaoh’s own daughter had been enlisted by the Lord to intervene on Moses’ behalf. He’d been raised as an Egyptian but had some sense of his Hebrew roots. But now he was a man without a people, having fled Egypt in fear for his life.
And then the Lord, who had been active in his life every step of the way, makes himself known to Moses, appearing to him in a way he had never appeared before. Moses is understandably afraid. He’s afraid of what he’s seeing―afraid of what might be expected of him. He thought he was safe out there shepherding his father-in-law’s flocks. I find myself picturing those movies that begin with our action hero having retired to a quiet life somewhere far from the action, only to be called back into service once more.
Moses had gotten himself out of the mix. He had escaped from his complicated life in Egypt. He had escaped from the consequences of killing an Egyptian. But now the one who had been quietly in the background his entire life moved front and center after hearing a divine call. But Moses was afraid. He was afraid to face the God of his fathers―afraid of what might lie ahead for him.
When the Lord calls us, he doesn’t call us to what will make us comfortable. He doesn’t say, “well . . . I know that would be hard for you, so I’ll find something else for you.” Often, he calls us right into the heart of our fears. Thirty-one years ago, I was very reluctant to apply to seminary because the idea of public speaking made me sick. The call to ministry is a call to the faith that overcomes fears. It’s the call to faith that trusts the Lord to be our strength when our hands, our knees, our voices are shaking.
Jonah – Even When We Don’t Like the Mission
It would be a shame to talk about biblical call stories and leave out one of the best ones ―the call of Jonah, who was called even though he didn’t like the mission to which he was called. “Now the word of the LORD came to Jonah son of Amittai, saying, ‘Go at once to Nineveh, that great city, and cry out against it; for their wickedness has come up before me.’ But Jonah set out to flee to Tarshish from the presence of the LORD. He went down to Joppa and found a ship going to Tarshish; so he paid his fare and went on board, to go with them to Tarshish, away from the presence of the LORD” (Jonah 1:1-3).
Jonah wasn’t afraid of the Lord, and he didn’t think what the Lord had in mind was impossible. It was quite the opposite. He was entirely convinced that what the Lord had in mind would be accomplished. And he didn’t like it. He didn’t agree with God’s plan to save the people of Nineveh. He wanted them to suffer. And he certainly wanted no part in working on their behalf.
Faith is not only trusting that God can do things. It is trusting that what God wills to do is right, righteous. It is being conformed to God’s will, when God refuses to be conformed to ours. It’s one thing to be called to deliver a word to people you care about, people you want to be saved. But to trust that God knows who needs saving and has a plan to accomplish it, even if you’re entirely sure that the ones God is concerned about are not worthy of his concern, that’s rough. That’s not a calling that many of us would have been any more eager than Jonah to receive.
It’s one of the most miraculous aspects of the Bible, I think. That it bears witness again and again and again to the reality that God’s beloved people, his chosen ones, just think he is wrong so much of the time. This is the heart of our original sin, and the Bible does not make even the slightest attempt to hide the depths of it. Again and again, we see people who should be pillars of faith, who should be examples for us to follow, instead actively defying God’s will, and just saying “nope” to his commands.
Faithfulness in ministry means trusting that God knows what he’s doing. Trusting that especially when we don’t like it.
Faithfulness in ministry means trusting that God knows what he’s doing. Trusting that especially when we don’t like it. When we find ourselves thinking, “why did the Spirit gather these particularly heinous sinners into the flock that I’m now called to shepherd?! Why couldn’t he have just given me a nice congregation that practices great stewardship, great hospitality, great service, is attentive to worship, and overflows with Christ’s love in every possible way?! But nope, I got a bunch of sinners. Sinners who don’t fully appreciate how lucky they are to have me as their pastor.” Tarshish looks better and better all the time!
Sunday Schools and Bible camps have lots of fun with the story of Jonah. It’s simply brilliant on many levels. But right at the center of it all is the decidedly not fun reality that God’s servants – you and I – have a deeply ingrained instinct to second guess him, to go our own direction in defiance of his call. And that’s really not a laughing matter.
Peter – Even When We Are Fickle
Now let’s switch to the New Testament, and we’ll start with Christ’s call even when we are fickle, as seen in Peter’s confession in Matthew 16. As a general rule, I’m not a huge fan of Peter. The Peter we meet in the gospels is just a little too brash, a little too quick with an answer, a little too quick to put himself forward. And the Peter we meet in Paul’s letter to the Galatians is a much bigger problem than any of that. Those traits that are just kind of annoying in the gospels are deeply problematic once Peter is out there at work in the church. And yet, listen to his conversation with Jesus in Matthew 16:13-17.
“Now when Jesus came into the district of Caesarea Philippi, he asked his disciples, “Who do people say that the Son of Man is?” And they said, “Some say John the Baptist, but others Elijah, and still others Jeremiah or one of the prophets.” He said to them, “But who do you say that I am?” Simon Peter answered, “You are the Messiah, the Son of the living God.” And Jesus answered him, “Blessed are you, Simon son of Jonah! For flesh and blood has not revealed this to you, but my Father in heaven.”
In a moment driven completely by divine intervention, Peter is right on the mark in his response to the central question of the day. Just who is this Jesus? Peter knows the answer. Because it has been revealed to him, not with his own eyes, but through the power of God. For one moment, Peter got out of his own way and the truth was revealed through him. And upon this confession of faith Christ makes an astounding promise in v. 18, “And I tell you, you are Peter, and on this rock I will build my church, and the gates of Hades will not prevail against it. I will give you the keys of the kingdom of heaven, and whatever you bind on earth will be bound in heaven, and whatever you loose on earth will be loosed in heaven.”
This faith that Peter so boldly, almost unconsciously, proclaims, is that Jesus is the Christ, the Son of the Living God, upon whom the church will be built. And nothing, not even the gates of Hades, will be able to overcome it. What a huge moment! What a powerful witness to Jesus! Peter must be so proud of himself!!
But, of course, we know how things go with Peter. He will do something amazing one moment, in the grip of the Holy Spirit. And the next minute, his ego, or his need to be liked, or even the devil himself will get ahold of him, and he will set himself up against Christ and his Gospel. He will tell Jesus he can’t possibly go to Jerusalem to die. He will break bread with the Gentiles in Antioch, as long as no one is around to see it, and then back off when powerful leaders from Jerusalem arrive on the scene.
Constancy is not one of Peter’s gifts. But Christ Jesus puts him to work in spite of himself. He gives him the Word when he needs it, even when Peter’s own words and actions are in conflict with the word he’s been given to proclaim. Can you imagine it? A leader in the church who is not perfectly consistent? One who sometimes caves to the pressure of those she wants to impress? One who doesn’t always want to go all the way to the mat for his convictions, but would like to find a middle way, a painless way? One who loves to be loved?
Constancy is not one of Peter’s gifts. But Christ Jesus puts him to work in spite of himself.
Christ Jesus calls us out of ourselves into the faithfulness where he is the center, not us. The faithfulness that means death to the self in favor of life in Christ. If all we’ve got is our own capacity to keep people happy, we will quickly realize our limits, our hypocrisy, our desperation. We won’t survive it. But that’s ok. Because our death is precisely what such a situation requires, in order that faith might come to life.
And finally, we will consider God’s call of those who have simply been wrong, about him, about themselves, about life, about death. We will consider the call of Paul.
Paul – Even When We’ve Been Wrong
We will let Paul tell his own story, rather than the story Luke provides in the Book of Acts. In Galatians 1 we hear Paul describe his former life. “You have heard, no doubt, of my earlier life in Judaism. I was violently persecuting the church of God and was trying to destroy it. I advanced in Judaism beyond many among my people of the same age, for I was far more zealous for the traditions of my ancestors” (Gal. 1:13-14).
Paul had everything figured out. He was a rising star. He had impressed the right people, was making all the right moves. He was making a name for himself. And in his day that required a specific focus. There was this movement afoot of those who were following an allegedly false messiah. They were gaining momentum in Jerusalem, in Damascus, and in a variety of other places. Paul knew with certainty that his responsibility was to stop this movement―at any cost. He violently persecuted the church of God because he was convinced that that was what he was supposed to do.
Until one day he was called to be a witness to this same Jesus he had been trying to destroy. That’s a bit of whiplash. To be certain you have to destroy something, and then be equally certain you are called to serve what you were trying to destroy. Paul would have had no reason to think anyone would listen to him—no reason to think anyone would trust him. The easy solution would have been to say, “Okay, I’ll stop persecuting the church. I’ll shut up. I’ll maybe even become an active member of a congregation somewhere. But it makes no sense at all to imagine I have some sort of particular calling to serve this church I’ve been trying to destroy.”
And yet, he did. There was no way around it. The Spirit grabbed hold of Paul, and the rest is history.
It turns out that God doesn’t only call those who have the correct resume. He doesn’t only call those who have no missteps, no ugly incidents in their background. He actually turns people around and makes them new. He did that with Paul. He can do that with anyone he chooses to―even you.
He actually turns people around and makes them new. He did that with Paul. He can do that with anyone he chooses to―even you.
Summary
The call to the office of ministry is first and foremost a call to faith because pretty much everything we do is an act of faith. We stand up in front of a congregation and deliver the gospel trusting God’s Word that that is how he has decided to redeem sinners. We stand there and talk believing that this is God’s saving work. We visit the homebound, bringing a word of hope when hope seems foolish or naïve. We stand at hospital beds and gravesides announcing Christ’s defeat of death. We sit in council meetings understanding that even this tedious discussion of the budget is part of the work of Christ’s church, through which the lost are being found. We baptize children whose parents we’ve never seen before, with faith that Christ’s word accomplishes what it says, hoping against hope that, even if we don’t ever see it, the Holy Spirit is bearing fruit in that young life.
The entire enterprise is an act of faith, from beginning to end. It’s when we imagine it as our work and not the Lord’s that we start to find ourselves in trouble. Like when Abraham tried to find an alternate route to a family, or when Moses thought he could hide in the wilderness and forget about his people, or when Jonah thought he could thwart God’s will to save the Ninevites. We even see this attitude in the apostles, when Peter put his own reputation ahead of what he knew to be true and when Paul was convinced that Jesus needed to be stopped. It happens in all those times when our own agenda moves to the center and the Lord’s will gets shunted off to the side―that’s when things go awry.
But God is not so easily thwarted. Our best efforts for the last 2000 years, and Israel’s best efforts for a couple thousand years before that, could not stop God’s will from being done. He’s quite good at being God. He’s been at it a long time. In the face of our faithlessness and doubt, he just keeps calling us back, seeking us out, setting us on the right path. And the amazing blessing of the office of ministry is getting to be a part of that mission.
Rev. Julie Smith is the service coordinator for Lutheran Congregations in Mission for Christ (LCMC), and she teaches at St. Paul Lutheran Seminary.
Endnotes:
1The Holy Bible: New Revised Standard Version (Nashville, Tennessee: Thomas Nelson Publishers, 1989), Gen. 12:1–3. All subsequent Bible citations in this essay are from the NRSV translation.
