Mark 1:14-20
After John was arrested, Jesus came from Galilee proclaiming the good news of God, and saying, “The time is fulfilled. The kingdom of God has come near. Repent. And believe in the good news.”
As Jesus passed along the Sea of Galilee, he saw Simon and his brother, casting a net into the sea, for they were fisherman. He said to them, “Follow me and I will make you fish for people.” Immediately, they left their nets and followed him. As he walked a little farther, he saw James, the son of Zebedee, and his brother John, in their boat mending the nets. Immediately, he called them and they left their father in the boat with the hired men and followed him.
Last week, I talked about “Doubting Nathanael,” that guy who hears about Jesus from his buddy Philip, but who is more than a little suspicious that this Jesus from Nazareth could possibly be who they thought he was – the messiah, the Son of God, “the King of Israel,” as Nathanael ultimately declares him to be, in spite of himself.
As part of all of that, I talked about that very churchy word “evangelism,” the notion of sharing the good news of the Gospel with others in order to invite them to faith – what Philip was doing for his friend, Nathanael, with that short, sweet, simple, holy invitation he learned from Jesus, himself: “Come and see.”
And, when it comes to this “evangelism” stuff, I suggested that some of us aren’t inclined to it. We don’t like it. We don’t feel qualified or capable – a lot of us – to talk about our faith. And I suggested that another reason many of us don’t “evangelize” or talk about our faith out there in the world or invite others to Church like we feel we would, could, or should, is because we don’t want to be “one of those kind of Christians.”
And I could feel the shared sentiment in the air when I said that – “one of those kind of Christians” – like many of you knew what I meant. You know, the pushy ones, the “turn or burn,” fire and brimstone, “get saved or else,” Bible-thumping, holy-rolling Christians who see Jesus’ invitation to “follow me” as less “come and see,” and more “get in line, or else.”
Well, when I considered this morning’s bit of Mark’s Gospel this time around, I wondered about another kind of Christian I don’t want to be, and never have been, really, for that matter. And that’s the kind of Christian who just drops everything and follows Jesus. The kind of believer who leaves nets and boats and friends and family to follow this Jesus from Nazareth. The kind of believer with no questions or doubts or suspicions – like the ones Nathanael had. The kind of follower who just buys all of this, who gets caught up in all of this, who gets dragged along by all of this, hook, line and sinker, you might say.
I think too much of the time, we hear this story about Jesus showing up in Galilee after his cousin, friend, and mentor, John the Baptist was arrested, strolling by the lake collecting disciples like so many sea shells by the sea shore, and we pretend that that’s how it’s supposed to work. That it’s that simple.
“Come and see,” I mean. And they do come, it seems. “Follow me and I’ll make you fish for people.” And I’ll be dipped, they drop everything, leave everything, lay it all down, and follow Jesus, like puppies or robots or whatever.
And it bugs me a little bit that someone thinks I’m “that kind of Christian,” just as much as it bugs me that some might think I’m “the other kind of Christian,” I mentioned earlier.
What I mean… And what I know about so many of you… And what I have learned from reading about those very same disciples we just heard about – James, John, Simon, Andrew, Nathanael, and all the rest – is that this faith we share is hard won; it’s rarely, if ever, easy; it’s hard to come by, to cultivate, to cling to, and to even care about some days. And when we just read little bits of the Gospels like this one – and what a lot of people preach and teach about it – we aren’t getting or sharing the whole story. When we pretend that everyone should be able to just drop everything and follow Jesus, we’re not being fair or honest about what this journey of faith and what life in this world are really like a lot of the time.
Because let’s not forget about how hard it was for these disciples to keep up with following Jesus so faithfully in those early days. Yeah, they left their boats and their nets and their dad that day by the lake, but they missed the point and misunderstood his teaching a lot of the time, too. They had amazing experiences where water became wine, where Lazarus was raised from the dead, where people were healed. They, themselves, passed around a couple of loaves and a few fish to feed thousands of hungry people on more than one occasion. Peter walked on water for crying out loud.
But the story goes that he sank like a stone, too, when his faith failed him out there on that water. And Lazarus died again somewhere along the way, too. And those disciples got stingy with the good news they’d received. And, in the end, despite all they’d seen and all they had to celebrate in their time with Jesus … in spite of all that faithful following … they denied him; they betrayed him; they deserted him; they left him hanging, quite literally, in the end.
Which is to say, again, this faith stuff is hard won, not easy, difficult for a lot of us to come by, to cultivate, cling to, and care about some days. And I think Jesus knew that and knows it, still. And I think it’s why he said then – and invites us, always – to “come and see” and “follow me,” nothing more and nothing less.
Peter Marty is a Lutheran pastor and editor of the Christian Century magazine, for which he wrote a piece last month about a man in his congregation who was coming to terms with the imminent death of his mother. The man, Jason, was 44 years old, his mother, Marie, was dying in the ICU. And Jason was utterly out of sorts about it all – never having been inside a hospital before and not resting in or wrestling with, any measure of faith, whatsoever.
So, in the ICU waiting room, trying to minister to Jason, whose mother was hours away from death, Pastor Marty was asking himself some pretty hard questions. Like, “to someone of unbelief sitting beside you in a hospital waiting room, how do you describe the power of faith, the significance of hope, or the meaning of life?” And, “How do you realistically acquaint them with the riches or comfort of faith during a 20-minute sit-down?”
Pastor Marty’s answer was, sadly, “You don’t.” And I think, sadly, most of the time, he’s right. None of us has encountered Jesus, strolling along the seashore with an easy, “Come and see” and “Follow me,” that does the trick.
As Pastor Marty writes, “Faith is a deeply ingrained condition formed through steady habits, disciplined practices, and reliable instincts that take shape over long stretches of time. It’s a way of life that acquires its layers and contours incrementally, developing ever so gradually and often imperceptibly.” He says, it’s something “like the parent who doesn’t notice her infant’s changing appearance until she comes home from a weeklong trip and can’t believe how much her child has matured in her absence.”
With that in mind, with the struggles that surround us in this world, and with the ones all of us are yet to encounter along the way, I hope we can be careful, compassionate, and realistic about how we receive and share this story of those first disciples who seem to so easily drop everything and follow Jesus.
Don’t get me wrong, their first steps were bold and brazen; beautiful and faithful; inspiring, even, to be sure. But, again, I know it’s not always so easy.
Because they were knuckleheads and naysayers, doubters and deniers, cynics and skeptics, fearful and faithless, too. And again, I think Jesus knew and knows that about all of us, just the same.
And it’s why our invitation is to follow in his footsteps. Not believe without question. Not denying that our fears are real or that they get the best of us too often, either.
But following with whatever faith we can muster – putting one foot in front of the other – loving, forgiving, showing mercy, giving generously, praying daily, worshiping regularly. Following as closely as we can – especially on our hardest days. Following Jesus – trusting that God is always somewhere out ahead of us … making a way for us and to us whether we believe it, understand it, can see it, or not. Following this Jesus – because his is the way and the truth and the life – and it makes a difference for us, come what may, in spite of ourselves, and for the sake of the world.
Amen
