St. John’s Lutheran Church
9 February 2025 + Lectionary 5c
Isaiah 6:1-13; Psalm 138; 1 Corinthians 15:1-11; Luke 5:1-11
Rev. Josh Evans
It’s been over a decade now,
but I remember it like it was yesterday:
I was at a small group leaders’ retreat for Urban Village Church in Chicago, where I had been attending during the “in-between” years – after college and before seminary. Perhaps even more than its Sunday worship, Urban Village was known for its robust small group ministry – ranging from traditional Bible studies to the LGBTQIA+ Faith Journey group I was a part of.
Now, I was looking to pick up the mantle of that group, alongside another co-leader, and was invited to this retreat – as much a crash course for newbies like me as it was a refresher for more seasoned leaders. It was those seasoned leaders I remember looking at, thinking how inadequate I seemed for this work compared to them.
At one point, we were given some free time to roam about the building for contemplation and prayer. Never having been great at spiritual practices which require me to sit in silence for any length of time with nothing to do, I found an empty pew in the sanctuary, opened a Bible to Exodus, and began to read – just to pass the time…
“Moses was keeping the flock of his father-in-law Jethro, the priest of Midian,” the story begins, when he led his flock beyond the wilderness and stumbled upon a strange thing – a bush which was blazing but not consumed.
When, all of a sudden, a voice – the voice of God – calls to him.
Moses was at least curious enough to entertain the conversation, during which God tells him he’s going to be the one to confront Pharaoh and lead God’s people out of slavery in Egypt into freedom.
Not surprisingly, Moses is hesitant – after all, he’s a fugitive – a wanted man – for murdering an Egyptian who was beating a Hebrew slave. Who knows what would happen to him if he went back?
“Who am I that I should go?” Moses asks.
Exactly! I thought, finding my own place in the story.
Who am I that I think I have what it takes to lead, or even co-lead, this group?
Admittedly, a comparatively much smaller task than what Moses was being asked to take on, but daunting nonetheless, as the imposter syndrome began to set in.
But God’s answer? “I will be with you.”
As surely as God was speaking to Moses, God was speaking to me.
***
If ever we feel inadequate for the task at hand,
inadequate to follow Jesus’ call
to proclaim the radical good news of the kingdom of God,
overwhelmed and seemingly incapable
of bringing about justice and peace in all the earth,
in the face of all the forces of evil and oppression,
paralyzed by our own imposter syndrome,
our shortcomings, and our failures,
or the confines of age and ability…
Well… we’re in good company with our biblical ancestors.
First, there’s Isaiah:
So overcome with trembling fear in the midst of God’s throne room –
the weird-looking angels, their thundering voices, the billowing smoke –
such that he cries out: “Woe is me! I am lost…a man of unclean lips.”
Or Paul:
Who himself once tried to eradicate the Jesus movement,
imprisoning its followers and threatening them with execution,
now filled with regret and shame:
“For I am the least of the apostles, unfit to be called an apostle.”
Or Peter:
The would-be “rock” of the church,
who today cowers before Jesus in fear,
suddenly aware of his own inadequate faith:
“Go away from me, Lord, for I am a sinful man!”
And yet, the psalmist declares, here is a God who “cares for the lowly.”
Who, like Mary sings in Luke’s opening chapter,
“has looked with favor on the lowly state of his servant.”
Here is a God who calls Isaiah the terrified, trembling prophet.
Here is a God who calls Paul the one-time persecutor of the church.
Here is a God who calls Peter who seems to fumble more times than not.
Here is a God who calls the imperfect, the broken,
and the downright messed-up.
Here is a God who calls us –
and invites us, in our brokenness, to be a part of God’s mission,
to seek out and to save the lost, the forgotten, the oppressed.
It doesn’t matter if we think we’re up to the task.
Because God calls us anyway – flaws and all.
***
From Jesus’ inaugural address –
just a few short scenes ago –
where he speaks of good news for the poor,
release to the captives,
and freedom for those who are oppressed…
to his choice of recruits –
the team he is building for his inner circle –
one thing is clear:
Jesus isn’t exactly surrounding himself
with the best and the brightest (no offense),
nor is he choosing the expected elites,
or the billionaires who have bought their way in…
but the questionable characters,
those who doubt their belonging, who question their credentials –
these are the ones who belong, these are the ones Jesus calls.
Jesus chooses the broken
to help him announce good news to the broken.
Because, as one commentary so succinctly puts it:
“God’s call is a call to mercy, beginning with being merciful toward ourselves.”
(emphasis mine)
So that we can extend that same mercy to others,
in ever more widening circles
of grace upon grace.
***
If ever we feel inadequate for the task at hand,
remember: God calls us…
us who are in good company with our biblical ancestors,
with Isaiah, Paul, and Peter…
and even Jesus,
who only a chapter ago was almost hurled off a cliff,
before he escaped back to Capernaum –
to heal a man with an unclean spirit in the synagogue,
to relieve Simon’s mother-in-law of her incapacitating fever,
to continue to heal the masses until at least sunset…
until he could escape at daybreak,
to depart for a deserted place –
Was it all too overwhelming?
The near-death experience?
The suffocating crowds with increasingly high expectations?
Did the imposter syndrome start to creep in?
At daybreak, in a deserted place,
as he will so often do in Luke’s gospel,
Jesus takes time for himself –
for prayer, with God.
And it is from there he regains the strength
to continue his preaching tour throughout the synagogues of Judea –
except this time, he won’t be alone;
he’ll have the support of the community –
his first disciples, Simon Peter, James, and John –
with him – and eventually more.
***
One of the things I would later learn,
after that interminable quiet time in the sanctuary
during the small group leaders’ retreat,
and that I continue to re-learn, time and time again,
is that it’s never all up to us alone.
Even Moses had his brother Aaron,
and his sister Miriam.
Jesus calls us – together –
imperfect, broken, messed-up human beings –
to proclaim the good news of the kingdom of God,
release for the captives, liberation for the oppressed,
wholeness and mercy for the broken –
“Will you come and follow me if I but call your name?” Jesus asks.
“Will you let the blinded see, set the prisoners free, kiss the leper clean?”
“Will you love even the you you hide if I but call your name?”
Good news, for us.
Good news, for each other.
Good news, for the world.
