Sermon given by Rev. Frank Clarkson, April 7, 2024.
Back when I was a teenager, we got an assistant minister at our church. He was young, free-spirited, kind of radical, at least for us in those days. Everyone loved him. Before preaching, he’d say this prayer: “God grant us the courage to seek the truth, come when it may, cost what it will.”
Isn’t this what we are about in life? Seeking after what is good and right and true, trying to follow that way that as best as we can, even and especially when it is difficult and costly? We live in a time when it seems that cutting corners and finding the quick fix is the dominant paradigm. But I hope and trust that doing the right thing will never go out of style.
We get chances to practice this every day, in little ways; in the choices that we make. There’s a word for the practice of paying attention, that leads to making good choices: it’s called discernment. Which simply means figuring out which way is the right way. Discernment is good for individuals, and for families, and for communities. It starts with asking, “Who are we, and what is most important to us? Where do we want to be going and how should we get there?” “What’s the next step to take, and what is our goal?
Discernment takes a lot of careful listening. Listening to your companions, and listening to your inner voice. And listening for that mysterious Spirit that seems to whisper to us from time to time. And that sometimes, comes with a voice more like a thunderclap than a whisper!
If you’ve even had a hunch, or heard a still small voice, or seen what seemed like a sign, then you’ve had a calling. If you’ve ever felt compelled to repair what’s been broken, or restore what’s been desecrated; if you’ve ever tried to make amends for a wrong, or follow a longing or a joy, then you’ve heeded that call. If you’ve ever been led to a place that you didn’t plan to go, then you know what I’m talking about.
We like to think we are in charge of our lives, and on some level, we are. We get to make choices, so many choices; we have free will. And still, it’s not all up to us. Thankfully. I do believe that our lives are, in beautiful and mysterious ways, intertwined with others; and we are being led and nudged and sometimes dragged to the places we are meant to go. The Jungian mystic Robert Johnson had a name for the leadings he felt in his life: he called them “slender threads,” and described them as “the numinous forces that exist outside our conscious control– sometimes called fate, destiny, god, guardian angel, guiding hand or patron saint.”
One of the things I hope we help you with here is being attuned to these callings, these numinous forces, these slender threads. Our worship theme this month is “Comfort and Discomfort,” and in my experience a calling will bring plenty of each, both discomfort and comfort.
At 40, I had a relatively comfortable life, but underneath it was a restlessness that kept tugging at me. I felt drawn to head off to theological school, and it freaked me out. But once there I knew it was where I was supposed to be. I felt surprisingly alive and joyful. Those years were so mind-expanding that I regularly felt like the top of my head could pop off. And in the years since, through comfort and discomfort, I’ve had this sense of deep gratitude for finding the way that is right for me. Do you know what I’m talking about? The sense, after some real searching and struggle, when one day you can look around and say, “Here I am, where I’m meant to be.”
We humans are certainly comfort seeking creatures. It must be part of our animal nature. Years ago I went deep-sea fishing with my brother Bobby off the coast of North Carolina, where he lives. He has a captain’s license, and access to a sport fishing boat he takes care of, and one day we went miles offshore, out to the Gulf Stream, looking for big fish. All day Bobby kept looking a a dial on the dashboard, marking the temperature of that blue water, trying to find water between 75 and 78 degrees, which is where blue marlin are most comfortable. Ae we that different? We each have places and things that make us comfortable, and we rightfully like being in those places! Which are good, and can become ruts, if we’re not careful. Thankfully we have self-awareness, and choice—we hear calls and feel nudges and understand that there is more to life that seeking comfort. That discomfort is an inevitable and valuable part of the journey too.
The Presbyterian minister Frederick Buechner points out that we each have a lot of voices vying for our attention, and the trick is finding out which is the voice of God, or Spirit, or or the Inner Light, or your Higher Power; whatever name works for you. Buechner wrote,
“The kind of work God usually calls you to is the kind of work (a) that you need most to do and (b) that the world most needs to have done…Neither the hair shirt nor the soft berth will do. The place God calls you to is the place where your deep gladness and the world's deep hunger meet.”
What I know about following a call is that it will invite you deeper and deeper into the world. There will be moments of gladness and comfort, but plenty of struggle and discomfort too. And at the same time, the awareness that you wouldn’t trade this life for anything. And a call, as personal as it is, inevitably invites you beyond yourself, to stretch and grow and find your way of addressing the deep hungers all around us.
I love the call narratives in the Hebrew Bible, the stories of the prophets being called by God to do the work that is needed in that particular time. I’ve made this point before, but I love that fact that almost all of these prophets initially try to get out of their calling. They try to talk God out of it, saying, “Who, me? You must be mistaken.” Like Moses—remember the story? He is minding his own business, when he happens upon a burning bush, which is amazing enough because it’s not being being burned up, but then God starts speaking out of the bush, “Moses, Moses,” and Moses replies, “Here I am.”
Gods tells Moses to take off his shoes because it is holy ground, and then says “I have seen the misery of my people in Egypt, I have heard them crying out because of their slave drivers…(and) have come to rescue them,” and says “I am sending you to Pharaoh to bring my people the Israelites out of Egypt.”
But Moses says, “Who am I that I should go to Pharaoh?” and God says, “I will be with you,” but Moses is unconvinced, asks more questions, and God persists, not taking “no” for an answer. Moses, who became a hero of the Hebrew people, finally says, “O my Lord, please send someone else.”
This so human, isn’t it? We sense a call to something more, but shrink back because we doubt our fitness for the task. When others point out your gifts and encourage you to follow where they lead, or when you have a dream stirring in your soul that will ask you to stick your neck out and go thought some big discomfort, how often do you doubt your gifts and downplay your abilities?
Why do we do this? It has to do with fear, doesn’t it, and our human tendency to stick with comfort rather than risking discomfort. But isn’t there an even greater risk? In doubting your own gifts, you can end up missing your own calling, If doubting your gifts is something you’re good at, then please hear this: our world needs what you have to offer. Yes, it will feel risky to to step outside your comfort zone, but only when you do will you start to see the benefits and the blessings, for others and for yourself. To say nothing of the liberation and joy that can follow.
We heard this in Rebecca Parker’s prophetic call, which begins with her observation that we can use our gifts for good or for ill. “Choose to bless the world,” she says:
The choice to bless the world is more than an act of will,
a moving forward into the world
with the intention to do good.
It is an act of recognition,
a confession of surprise,
a grateful acknowledgment
that in the midst of a broken world
unspeakable beauty, grace and mystery abide.
There is an embrace of kindness
that encompasses all life, even yours.
And while there is injustice, anesthetization, or evil
there moves a holy disturbance,
a benevolent rage,
a revolutionary love,
protesting, urging, insisting
that which is sacred will not be defiled.
There is all around us this sacred presence. “This country they call life,” Rilke wrote. “You will know it by its seriousness.” The choices we make are serious, they have consequences, the stakes are high. We have these days we have been given. We have these callings that are waiting for us. What are we going to do with them?
We are here to live our lives as fully and courageously as we can, follow our callings where they lead, through comfort and discomfort. And along the way, to trust that in our seeking there will be finding, that in our journeying there will be companions,. That along the way there will be life abundant.
May this be our prayer, and our song: “Ever singing, march we onward!”
Now and forever,
Amen.