Sermon for the Third Sunday after the Epiphany

Readings
Jonah 3:1-5, 10
Psalm 62:6-14
1 Corinthians 7:29-31
Mark 1:14-20

Most of you don’t know, but in my past I was a long-distance cyclist. For a number of years, I would ride in events that were 75-175 miles long. It was, for the most part, an exhilarating and satisfying activity. Despite the physical demands there is something amazingly satisfying after riding a major distance. It is almost a transcendent feeling and one I will never forget.

But this wasn’t always the case. Like every activity there was a beginning. And at that beginning I struggled mightily. When I started I found it difficult to ride 10 miles and hills were all but impossible. I used a bike I had inherited, and I limped along and complained about wobbly arms and legs and a sore back. Then one day, a good friend who got me started said, “if you really want to enjoy this, you’re going to have to commit to it. You’re going to have to train. And, despite the cost, you’re going to have to buy a decent bike,” which meant spending about $600 minimally.

I was at a crossroads. I could see the joy that riding provided my friend, and many others I knew. I was attracted to the idea of getting fit and losing weight. But I also had to make a commitment. I couldn’t keep trying to have it both ways. Either I was going to reform my life in some key ways and train, or I was going to get real and accept that, despite my attraction, I was never going to know the joy of cycling. To do so required faith that my work would not be in vain. To do so required me to look at myself and my life in a new and different way. It wasn’t something I could ease into, in the end it was either commit or don’t.

Today’s Gospel reading has a similar crossroads moment for several of those whom we now refer to as Jesus’ disciples.

We hear that Jesus, after John’s arrest, begins to proclaim the good news of God. He says, “The time is fulfilled, and the kingdom of God has come near; repent, and believe in the good news.”

And in the midst of that proclamation he calls Simon and Andrew, and a little bit later the sons of Zebedee, James and John. And remarkably we hear that they all “immediately” left what they were doing and simply got up and followed Jesus.

There is something profound going on here. Yes, there is something compelling about the person of Jesus. But there is also something compelling about the message he proclaims. He does not mince his words. He says, “repent, and believe …” Like my friend many years ago, Jesus is telling those who hear him that a choice needs to be made. Either embrace the new reality he proclaims or miss out on something significant, something life transforming.

We can’t separate the two. Like my experience decades ago, both the message and the messenger combined is ultimately what compelled me towards transformation. For those early disciples both the messenger and the message led them to make a choice. And because of it their life would change for ever.

But let’s be clear, that doesn’t mean it was an easy choice. Jesus tells Simon and Andrew that he will make them “fish for people.” We often think of fishing in the modern context of a rod and reel with a baited hook or lure. It is a practice that is a matter of skill and knowledge. But the kind of fishing that occurred in the time of Jesus was quite different. It was net fishing. In which a weighted net was thrown over the side of the boat and then drawn in with the hope that the net would catch the fish in the water. Fishing of this type often involved faith that there were fish in the area where one casted one’s nets. There were no guarantees.

It is this kind of fishing that Jesus both practices in his proclamation and invitation. And, it is this kind of fishing that he invites the disciples to. One in which both a commitment and then a life of faith are required.

We too have been called by Christ. Why else would we be here? But, for those of us who grew up in the church, especially the Episcopal Church, it is easy to feel comfortable and complacent with the life we are living. It is easy to assume that if we come to worship, pay our pledge, and pray on occasion that we are living into our faith.

But I ask you, how many of us hunger for something more? How many of us when met with the doubts, uncertainties, and the challenges of life don’t long for the faith of the disciples? How many of us want an abiding sense of the presence of God?

Well, the good news is that all of that is available. The good news is that God is radically present to us and to our lives. But much like my story of cycling at the beginning of this homily, we stand at a crossroads. To go to the place we long for, to know the grace we so desire, requires us to make a commitment beyond our present reality. It is not something we can hedge on. It is not something to be eased into. In the end, like those disciples who immediately left their nets, we need to commit to a new way of living and a new way of being. We need to become followers in the way of Jesus. We need to embrace an alternative vision in which faith expressed as love becomes the centerpiece of our lives.

Now I’m not saying that we need to suddenly become perfect in the practice of our faith. Scripture witnesses to the imperfections of the disciples. They went through an ongoing maturing and transformation. And so will we. But like my journey into cycling, the first step is the commitment. And let’s be clear. It will require cost, real cost, both in terms of our lives and our resources. We can no longer live for ourselves alone. We must live for Christ in and through all persons and the whole of creation.

But if we live into that commitment, if we choose the way of Jesus and the good news he proclaims, then all that we desire in terms of our life in God will be fulfilled. Will life become perfect? No, but our ability to live with joy and an abiding sense of the presence of God will grow even in the midst of adversity.

And as for fishing for people? That’s other part of the transformation. We are not simply being transformed for ourselves. When we make the commitment, when we enter the way of Jesus, we are called to be what Jesus was for the first disciples and all who heard him. We are called to both be and to proclaim the good news of God in Christ. We are called to offer others the same opportunity for commitment and transformation. We are called to be nothing less than the embodiment of divine love in a hurting, broken, and hungry world.

I made that commitment to cycling years ago, and even though I am no longer able to do it, the transformation it affected continues to work out in me. I too made a commitment to Jesus years ago, and while I struggle in his way, the transformation it affects in me and in others is something I experience every day.

Jesus comes to each of us again and again saying, “follow me.” May we have the conviction and the courage at that crossroads to get up immediately and follow him. May we enter into his way and be transformed. May we, with joy, behold his appearing in our lives. And may we be his heart and love to the world.