|
|
It was the fall of 1998. I was preparing to stand before the Presbytery of Greater Atlanta for the very first time. These were my instructions: Tell us about your faith journey, your experience serving in the church, and your motivations for seeking ordination as a Minister of Word and Sacrament. And, by the way, do it in no more than two minutes.
I was at a loss. How could I answer those questions? How could I answer those questions in a way that would make any sense to a bunch of Presbyterians? How could I answer those questions in a way that would make any sense in less than two minutes?
"Tell them a story", a friend said to me. "Your story's in Scripture. Find it. Tell them that story, and they'll understand." I stared at her blankly…for a long time. Then I stared at my Bible blankly…for a long time. But my friend was right. My story is in Scripture. And so is yours. Every Christian's story is in the Bible. Because every Christian's story is tied to Jesus' story.
This is what I said to Presbytery about my "motivations for seeking ordination":
There was a woman who went to Jacob's well every day to get water. She was a very ordinary woman. She wasn't anticipating any major mid-life vocational change, certainly not to a preaching career. She knew about God. She'd been worshiping God on the mountain all her life.
One day, Jesus meets her at the well. Being rather thick-headed and stubborn, it takes this woman a while to understand what Jesus is talking about, but eventually she gets it. She is transformed as she moves from knowing about God to knowing God and realizing that she is intimately known by God. She couldn't help it; she became a preacher. She left her water jar behind and went to share the Good News.
John doesn't tell us a lot about this woman, except that she is a Samaritan. I, on the other hand, am a Minnesotan, but every day of my adult life, I have gone to the well, to study and to teach water. I can't help it; the time has come for me to leave my water jar behind and go and share the Good News.
They understood.
The story in the Gospel of John about the Samaritan woman at the well is a call story. The Bible has lots of call stories. Every single one of God's people has a call story. Abraham and Moses and Deborah and Simon and Matthew and Mary. Ruth and Baruch and Timothy and Lydia and the anonymous woman at the well. John Calvin and Martin Luther King and Mother Theresa. The pastor of the church I grew up in, who was there long enough to baptize and confirm and marry two or three generations. The woman here at Calvary who quietly keeps the bulletin board fresh and creative and uplifting. You and me. Every single one of God's people has a call story. They are all different. There is no one-size-fits-all call story. The details are always unique to the person. God meets you wherever you are, whoever you are, and calls you to him.
Every call story is different, and every call story has some things in common.
For one thing, in every call story in the Bible, God comes to the person while he is going about his life, equally unaware of and unprepared for what God is about to do.
Jesus comes to the woman in the midst of her routine. She's going to the well for water like she's done a thousand times before. She's not looking for an encounter with the Messiah. She's not expecting her life to change. Jesus is the one who initiates the conversation. It all happens on his terms, according to his timing.
Jesus came to Simon and Andrew and James and John in the midst of their routine-casting their fishing nets into the water. Jesus came to Matthew in the midst of his routine-manning the tax booth. God came to Moses and to David in the midst of their routines-caring for their sheep. God comes to each one of us in the midst of our routine-going to the office or taking care of the home or building or showing houses or fixing things or figuring taxes or typing or teaching. We don't call him. He calls us. He initiates the conversation. It all happens on his terms, according to his timing. If we are searching, if we are questioning, then it means that he has already started the conversation and he's teaching us to be attentive. Even then, he will continue the conversation on his terms. God will not be manipulated, and he will not be rushed.
God comes to you while you are going about your life, unaware and unprepared. The only thing needed is a willingness to hear, an attentiveness to God's voice. You cannot control when or how God will call. You can seek to develop a posture of listening.
One of reasons that God didn't call me to ministry until I was in my thirties is that it took me that long even to begin to learn to listen for God. My inclination, when I first began to sense God taking hold of my life in a whole new way, was to try to figure out what it was he was up to. I thought up all sorts of good things that I could do in my spare time. Every time I held up an idea for God's approval, I got silence. I was used to making the decisions in my life, and I was used to taking the initiative. I had to learn that it didn't work that way with God. I had to learn that it wasn't up to me to figure it out. I had to learn that it wasn't up to me to set any conditions, such as "I'll do anything you want me to do, as long as it doesn't interrupt my career." I needed to learn that God will not be manipulated, and he will not be rushed. Most of all, I had to learn that I could never be prepared, so what I needed to be was attentive. I'm still learning.
When Moses saw the burning bush, he didn't make a note in his journal and move on; he turned aside. Moses was attentive for God's voice.
When the prophet Samuel heard a voice calling him when he was a little boy, he responded, "Here I am," even before he recognized the voice. Samuel was attentive for God's voice.
When the woman met Jesus at the well, she took note that conversing with a Jewish male was taboo but she didn't turn away. Instead, she joined the conversation, and stayed with it, even when she didn't understand why he was talking with her or what he was talking about. Somehow, she was attentive for God's voice.
Another thing that all call stories have in common is that, when Jesus takes a hold of you, when you go from knowing about him to knowing him, you have to leave your water jar behind.
It might mean leaving one profession for another. It might not. It always has to do with a whole lot more than just your profession. Leaving your water jar behind means forgetting what is behind and straining toward what is ahead, toward the goal for which God has called you heavenward in Christ Jesus.
The way John tells the story of the woman at the well, it's mostly dialogue. Jesus speaks. The woman responds. Back and forth. To set up the scene, John gives us one concrete physical detail. There's a well. It's Jacob's well. That's it. John doesn't say anything about what the well looks like. He doesn't give us any details about what the woman is wearing or what she is carrying. John provides no details-until the end. When John tells us that the woman heads back to town to tell everyone about Jesus, he decides to throw in one little detail. She left her water jar behind.
The woman gets a taste of the living water which springs up to eternal life. Everything now is loss compared to the surpassing greatness of knowing Christ Jesus. The jar she brought with her to the well is inconsequential now. She doesn't need it anymore. It would only get in the way.
One little detail. A water jar. Before she met Jesus we didn't even know she was carrying a water jar. Well, I guess it was implicit-one doesn't go to a well without bringing a jar for the water-but we weren't told about it. It wasn't in the picture. After she met Jesus, the water jar takes form in the narrative. And she leaves it behind.
More is left behind with that water jar than a few drops of H2O. Left behind is everything that used to define who this woman was, everything that was wrong about her life and everything that was right about her life, all her failures and all her successes. Everything.
It's not that she becomes a blank slate. Her history is still her history. She's still a Samaritan. She's still a woman who has lost five husbands, whether by death or by divorce. Her past still includes living with a man not her husband.
Her history is still her history, but none of it weighs her down so much that she can't run to share the Good News. None of it commands her attention so much that she loses sight of Jesus' claim on her life. None of it defines who she is anymore. None of it is worth keeping. Not the bad stuff. Not the good stuff either.
This could be a story about her grief or her pain or her guilt or her shame. Or this could be a story about her strength and perseverance and evangelistic flair. But it's not. Instead, it's a story about Jesus and his gift of living water. Once she has tasted the living water, all of the woman's failures and all of her successes are re-defined in light of Jesus and his gift.
Without the burden of her water jar, the woman at the well is free to run without looking back. She's free to follow wherever Jesus leads.
When Simon and Andrew heard Jesus call, "follow me," they didn't stop to analyze the impact on the revenue of their fishing business; they dropped their nets and followed. And as they followed, as they grew to know Jesus, more and more of who they used to be got left behind with their nets-with their water jars.
When I stood before the floor of Presbytery in December 1998, I thought leaving my water jar behind referred to changing professions. It did, and a whole lot more. As I follow Jesus, as I grow to know him, more and more of who I used to be gets left behind with my water jar.
Sometimes I resist letting go. I don't know if any of you can identify with that, but still there are times when I resist letting go. Sometimes I resist for a long, long time. You know what? Invariably, I'm a whole lot happier when God finally pries me loose from whatever it is that I'm holding on to that he's decided I would be better off without. He really does know what he's doing. He really does love me and know what's best for me.
You can count on it. God really does know what he's doing. He really does love you and know what's best for you.
When Paul writes that he considers all the gains of his past to be rubbish, that he might gain Christ and be found in him, he's talking about leaving his water jar behind. Nothing negative in his background holds him back, because of the surpassing greatness of knowing Jesus Christ. Nothing positive in his background distracts him, or causes him to rely on himself, because of the surpassing greatness of knowing Jesus Christ.
Breaking with the past is not a one-time act. It must be done again every day. It's about pressing on to take hold of that for which Christ Jesus took hold of you. It's about forgetting what is behind and straining toward what is ahead, for which God has called you heavenward in Christ Jesus. It's about taking hold of the one who has already taken hold of you.
When Jesus takes a hold of you, when you go from knowing about him to knowing him, you have to leave your water jar behind.
Without the burden of your water jar, you are free to run without watching your feet. You are free to follow wherever he leads.
When Jesus takes a hold of you, when you go from knowing about him to knowing him, you have to leave your water jar behind.
Without the burden of your water jar, you are free to run without looking back. You are free to follow wherever he leads.
|
|
