usually
marked with caution signs, bright red flags, or even the feeling
that
we are about to make a big decision. Some of the decisions that matter most
slip by without our even noticing. Some of the choices that seem small are
bigger than the ones that appear big. Because the sacred is present in the
ordinary, we can’t be sure that any decision is unimportant. Because life is
holy, every moment matters. Every day and hour are crucial.
Jesus
is walking beside a lake one afternoon ion this week’s scripture reading from
Matthew 4, when he sees two men in a rowboat waiting for unsuspecting fish to
wander into their nets. It’s hard to believe what happens next. Jesus offers
them a job with no pay, and they accept: “Follow me, and I will make you fish
for people.” So, the four fishermen drop
what they are doing and head off to God-knows-where, to lives they can’t
imagine.
People
always try to explain away big-fish stories, and this one is no
exception.
Some commentators suggest that young men often left their occupations to become
students of a rabbi. They say it sounds more unlikely to us than it would have
to people in the first century. We read the story and assume that this isn’t
the disciples’ first encounter with Jesus. Surely, they knew Jesus before this.
The
disciples’ instant acceptance of Jesus’ peculiar invitation is as dramatic as
any moment we will ever encounter. On occasion, we face big decisions about
family, jobs, and faith. We stand at a fork in the road and need to choose. We
have moments when we feel that we need to act in a particular way for reasons
that we cannot completely explain. We feel the need to sacrifice something we would
rather keep in order to follow. We have taken a few big risks. But most of the
time, it isn’t that dramatic. We don’t drop everything to start a new life very
often. The calling of the disciples is more spectacular than what happens to us
most days.
Most
of my life is routine. I have gone to work each morning often with a list of
things to do. There are phone calls to return, e-mails to respond to, and
meetings to attend. There are a dozen administrative details to take care of.
The urgency in what I do is usually the urgency of keeping up. Most of it
doesn’t feel that holy at all. One positive thing is that often my day is
filled with pleasant people.
I
receive too much credit for what I do. My work is enjoyable, but it’s not
spectacular. My life doesn’t feel as adventurous as that of the disciples,
leaving their nets and following Jesus into the unknown. There are women and
men who live each day in danger because of their faith. There are people who do
astonishing, heroic works. Maybe someday we will do something spectacular. For
now, most of us feel called to less-dramatic discipleship.
Maybe
Jesus’ disciples had days when their lives didn’t seem sensational, as they
walked up and down Galilee from village to village. Maybe they had days when
they thought things were going too slow. On those days, perhaps their
faithfulness was more modest. We tend to forget the importance of details in
the journey of faith. We focus on dramatic conversions, overwhelming encounters
with God, and powerful moments of prayer. We search for peak experiences and
end up assuming other people are born with a spiritual talent that we just don’t
have.
But
God is in the details. God calls us every hour of every day. God invites us to
be friends, practice kindness, and pray for our daily bread. We live out our
faithfulness in worship, work, and study. As Christians the routine, everyday
ways in which we follow Jesus, the way we read scripture, welcome strangers,
and love the people with whom we live are all crucially important.
God
is at work in a variety of unspectacular ways. God is present in
every
way that grace is shared, hope is proclaimed, and healing comes. Love spreads
word by word. The bucket fills drop by drop. Wrongs are righted one by one. Our
calling is to be faithful, to live God’s grace on routine days in ordinary
ways.
There
is no event so commonplace that God is not there. Every moment and every word
have possibilities. Slowly but surely our priorities change. On the day they
first followed Jesus, the disciples were brash, impulsive, stubborn, and they
smelled of fish. They had to learn day by day how to be the church. We grow in
faith, not only in memorable, never-to-be-forgotten moments, but also in
forgettable moments when we decide to pray instead of turning on the radio, to
do better with the next hour than we did with the last, and to give something
that we would rather keep.
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