Here I Am Lord

What do we mean when we say that we are the people of God?
And
What do we mean when we speak of God's calling in our lives?

I want to pose these two questions to you, today, in light of this morning's reading
from Paul's First Epistle to the Church at Thessalonica.
I want to lay these two rather interesting questions before us
so that when we speak of being in ministry to the world,
we might have some idea of what this ministry is supposed to be.
We are, after all, called to be in mission to our fellow human beings.
It is a mission, a ministry,
which calls us into the grace of Jesus Christ,
even as it calls us into the service of the Gospel.
For, you see, we are -- all of us -- ministers of the Gospel of Jesus Christ.
We are -- you, and I -- called to serve our Risen Lord and Savior.

Would you pray with me:

Lord God, Almighty, move among us so that we, Thy people, may always feel and sense Thy divine power and presence; for we need to know that we are never alone. And speak to each and every one of us in such a way that we will hear, understand, and remember, give us words by which to mold and shape our living; for, we confess to You that we are a people who need such words by which to live; for we pray in Thy Holy and Gracious Name. Amen.

Being a minister of the Gospel of Jesus Christ is not an easy endeavor.
Despite the popular cultural misconception,
those of us who have received the calling to word and sacrament
are not graced with a three or four hour work week.
There is no way to properly quantify the time we spend in ministry,
nor would I recommend that we even try.

Oh, sure, we can figure the number of hours
we spend in study and sermon preparation each week.
We can keep track of the time spent at hospitals and in people's homes,
in board meetings and repairing the toilets in the Men's Room--
We can tabulate the hours spent doing all these things,
and we will still fall short of understanding what it means
to be a minister of the Gospel.
There are so many things that clergy are called upon to do,
we have so many roles and tasks in our modern society,
that crafting any clear job description would be no mean feat, indeed.
And yet, communicating this to those who sit in the pew each Sunday
is also no mean feat.
The stresses and strains that ministry places on those of us
who wear basic black on Sunday mornings
must be released.

Some golf.
Others go skiing.
I collect and read books, mostly written by other ministers,
which give a satirical view of the ministry.
Books like:

How to Become A Bishop Without Being Religious.
and
Faith, Hope, and Hilarity.

Recently, while browsing through Cokesbury Book Store
--another way of releasing tension--
I discovered a gem of a book entitled:

101 Things To Do During A DULL SERMON

I recommend that you rush out an buy it tomorrow morning.

Thing number 26 to do during a dull sermon is, probably, my favorite.
It recommends that the parishioners set up a flash scorecard system
like the ones used to judge Olympic sporting events.
The categories to be judged are:

1. The quality of my monotone voice

2. My use of obscure vocabulary

3. My lack of interesting illustrations

4. The number of irrelevant points I make.

One of these days, I half expect to see a series of score cards
pop up along the back row of the church.
And, on that day, I shall rejoice.

And yet, no one is more critical of the sermon than the one who preaches it.
This is certainly true of me.
Preaching is the most visible thing ministers do
--we are called to get up before a bunch of people,
week in and week out,
and speak forth the word of God.
So, it makes sense for us to feel upset
when we're convinced we've fumbled the Sunday morning message.

I'm in pretty good company, you know.

Paul, the Apostle, was sometimes overly critical of himself, as I know I am.
He believed himself to be a poor preacher,
lacking voice and stature,
lacking force and eloquence,
lacking wisdom and wit.

But, at least he had a firm grasp on what he was to preach, and why.

“We have been approved by God,” Paul told the Thessalonians,
“we have been entrusted with the gospel. So we speak,
not to please men, but to please God.”

Sometimes we who fill pulpits on Sunday mornings
have lost touch with the wonderful truth to be found
in the Gospel of Jesus Christ.
We forget why we have been called,
We forget who has called us,
We forget what we have been called to do and be.

From time to time all of us need to go back to the roots of the Early Church
to find our purpose for being.
This is true for those of you out there, as well as for me.

And this is why I like Paul so much.
One of the areas I’m thinking about doing my doctoral work is in the letters
and theology of Paul, though as all of you know I’m very much drawn to
the theology of Holy Communion, and I may end up focusing there.

Paul’s letters to his Churches make up nearly two thirds of the New Testament.
They tell us more about the early Church,
and give us more insights into how Christ's Gospel was first received,
than any other source available to us.

Paul's life and ministry speaks clearly to us
across the intervening 2000 years.
The Churches he founded and pastored
had many of the same problems we face today.
In his letters to his Churches,
we find him teaching and preaching,
we find him counseling and comforting,
we find him rebuking and correcting.
Paul's letters took the place of his personal presence.
After all, the Apostle couldn’t hop on an airplane,
or into a car,
and travel the 300 to 1000 miles
from Corinth to Philippi to Thessalonica to Ephesus ... and back.
His people wrote him letters, and he responded in kind.

Sometimes, he had to teach them some new material,
sometimes he had to remind them of what he had already taught them,
and sometimes he had to remind them of how he and his assistants had behaved.
You see, he did something that we preachers, in the modern era,
have trouble doing.
Paul didn't fear telling his people to look to him and his assistants
as models to follow.
He didn't fear this because he truly believed
that Christ lived and worked through him.

When his people looked at how Paul lived,
he knew they would see the light of Jesus Christ.
It is this light which he preached,
it is this light which he nourished in his people,
and it is this light which he expected to see in them.
Paul led,
Paul taught,
not by force,
but by love.

Paul wrote, “We were gentle among you, like a nurse taking care of her children.”
It is a loving stewardship that Paul exercised at Thessalonica.
While he knew that God had given these people to him,
He knew that they were not his possession, they were God's possession.
And, still, he felt almost a motherly affection for the Thessalonians.
He felt the same for Timothy,
and for Onesemous,
both of whom he called his sons.
The love of a father for his children,
the caring protection and loving guidance which Paul exercised over his churches,
is that light of Christ which Paul prayed would be in and work through him.
Paul says he never sought “glory from men, whether from you or from others,”
But, rather, he gave glory to God
and only wished to serve those God had entrusted to him.
I can only wish that more ministers had this attitude in them today.
I have been called to be a minister of the Gospel of Jesus Christ.
I have not been called to be the center of attention.

That's why I wear vestments on Sunday morning.
I wear them to hide me.
That's why I wear this collar of white plastic
around my neck on Sunday mornings ...
to remind me of God's claim on my life.

The ministry of those of us who have been called to preach,
is a ministry of service-leadership to and on your behalf.
It is a ministry which serves through care and love,
feeding and nursing,
teaching and leading.
It is a ministry which calls us to serve you with the grace of Jesus,
so that you might be Christ's light in this world.
You are the saints of God.
You are the body of Christ,
You are in the priesthood of the believer,
You are called to go where God sends you
and to be God's light in a broken and hurting world.
And I--like Paul--have been called
to teach and lead you, by word and example, in service-ministry,
so that you might be God's light.

The Hymn I sang this morning
is my favorite among the new hymns to be found in the Hymnal.
It speaks of God's calling,
It speaks of God's mission,
For all of us.

In it, God says:

I, the Lord of sea and sky,
I have heard my people cry.
All who dwell in dark and sin
My hand will save.
I who made the stars of night,
I will make their darkness bright.
Who will bear my light to them?
Whom shall I send?

And we, you and me, are called to respond:

Here I am, Lord.
Is it 1, Lord?
I have heard you calling in the night.
I will go, Lord,
if you lead me.
I will hold your people in my heart.

This is not just a hymn for those of us who preach the word,
this is not just a hymn for those of us who celebrate
the sacraments of Baptism and Holy Communion.
This is a hymn for all of us, calling us to follow Paul's example.

“Being affectionately desirous of you,
we were ready to share with you
not only the Gospel of God but also our own selves,
because you had become very dear to us.”

God calls us to hold His people in our hearts.
It is a calling to you and to me,
to you--the priests of God
and to me--a minister of the Gospel of Jesus Christ.
Let us live up to that calling,
“not to please men, but to please God who tests our hearts.”

In the Name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.
--Amen