When I was young I would sometimes play the “if only” game with my faith. “If only I were alive at the time of Jesus, my faith would be stronger. If only I could see him, I would truly believe.” Just think of the questions I could ask! “Do you really have brothers and sisters? What was your childhood like? What happened to Joseph? What’s it like being the Son of God?” And the question that Jesus apparently was asked, “What kind of sign can you give me to show that you really are the Son of God?”
That last question revealed my true insecurity. I had to face the fact that even had I been alive in the time of Jesus, my faith might not have been all that different. Jesus didn’t go around performing miracles to prove his divinity. He responded to human need. Then, as now, one had to have the eyes of faith first in order to see that what he did was divine.
And yet, there was that personal invitation: “Follow me.” Something must have been compelling about Jesus to make four fishermen immediately get out of their boats, leave livelihood and family behind, and follow him. Some writers insist that this must not have been their first encounter with Jesus. They would have the fishermen act more like us, deliberately, rationally, weighing the consequences, and then make a decision.
Jesus’ abrupt command to follow challenges that slow approach. This isn’t about deciding who to support in an upcoming election; this is an invitation from God! And only by treating it as such is the depth of faith revealed. St. Paul knew that. He castigated the notoriously factional Corinthians for claiming to be followers of various apostles. Paul rightly redirects the focus on Jesus Christ, the only one who died for them and in whose name they were baptized. (I’d love to hear this preached in a parish where people are nostalgic for BFRs – Beloved Former Rectors!) Paul and all of us are merely instruments of God, who through the grace of God point toward Jesus Christ rather than ourselves.
It’s like an image used by Thomas Merton: we are to be windows through which others see Jesus. Rarely does one focus on the window itself; rather, one looks through to what is revealed beyond. And just as a dirty window can obscure the view, so our sin can obscure the God who dwells within.
As I grew older, I realized that “if only” is not a very profitable game. Seeking proof is not the way to go. If you want to have faith, do what you would do if you did have faith, and then your faith will grow. Over time you will find that you have become a more transparent window through which the love of God shines. Even better, it will become easier to see Jesus in others. And at some point, you will realize that you have responded to that invitation: “Follow me.”
[Epiphany 3: 1 Corinthians 1:10-18; Matthew 4:12-23.]
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For you shall go out in joy, and be led forth in peace;
the mountains and the hills before you shall break forth into singing, and all the trees of the field shall clap their hands.
Isaiah 55:12
the mountains and the hills before you shall break forth into singing, and all the trees of the field shall clap their hands.
Isaiah 55:12
About Me
- Trees of the Field
- This blog was written when I was the rector (that's church-speak for priest-in-charge) of Christ Episcopal Church in Burlington, Iowa.
2 comments:
Right you are: without the eyes of faith, “miracles” can always be explained away, or forgotten (e.g., the Israelites who had passed through the Red Sea, drunk water from the Rock, and been fed with the Bread of Heaven – but continued with their grumbling for forty years).
“Abraham saith unto him, They have Moses and the prophets; let them hear them. And he said, Nay, father Abraham, but if one went unto them from the dead, they will repent. And he said unto him, If they hear not Moses and the prophets, neither will they be persuaded, though one rose from the dead.” (St. Luke 16:29-31)
It always seems to come down to the Call. What is our response when he says “Come, follow me?” We never have sufficient evidence to make a fully rational choice. But if one leaves the nets and takes those first steps, the rest will follow.
Isn't Merton's image of the window just wonderful? And so is your reminder that if we, ourselves, do anything to muck up the clarity of our own window, then it might well prevent someone from seeing clearly.
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