Sermon prepared for Messiah Lutheran Church, Auburn

Traditional Services, 1/27/02, by Pastor Greg Kaurin

Associate Pastor for Spiritual Care & Development

Text: Matthew 4:12-23

I enjoy fishing. I enjoy the routine and the repetition: finding the right pool, baiting the hook, casting it just above the bend in the creek, allowing enough line and slack for the current to guide it along the cut in the far bank. Fishing, ...the routine, repetitive, calm. I feel a cool easy breeze, see the rippling water, hear the buzz of a dragonfly, and the song of a distant western meadowlark. Fishing: a miss-cast snag, another lost lure, a hole in the left toe of my waders, cold water filling the boot, a worm that won't hold still as pesky mosquitoes and biting gnats drink their fill of me. …The distant roll of thunderclouds! cold dry hands, runny nose. ...oh yes… fishing. the routine.

The routine—obviously, there are parts of the routine in our lives that we love, parts we’d rather leave, and some that we need, but routine is where we probably spend most of our lives. It’s a good thing, then, that it is almost always in the midst of routine that God suddenly calls.

Their boats were docked after a long night of tossing their nets, and the fishermen were at the next task of mending their nets. Heavy and worn hands were tired but still they twisted and tugged with strong rhythm and routine motion. There was headstrong Peter and brothers James and John, sons of Zebedee (which means, "sons of thunder").

These were men of routine who could incorporate storms, good and bad catches, and torn nets all into the routine of their lives. Then one morning, a man stood just a voice away, "Follow me," he said to them, "I will make you fish for people."

It's not as simple as saying that Jesus asked them into a brand-new routine. St. Augustine once said that "Fisherman Peter did not lay aside his nets, but changed them" to fish for people. It was, in a way, not so much a call to change their profession, but to change priority.

Jesus encountered people in the midst of their routines and used the very task at hand to reorient them for something beyond the task. He saw a woman drawing water from a well, a task she did day after day, and he spoke of a living water. In the middle of eating a meal, he lifted bread and wine and spoke of his body and a covenant of blood.

Jesus calls us, not just into new routines, but instead, to see divinity in routine, to see God among his routine people, and to align ourselves around that living priority. He calls us to always see beyond what we’re doing, to see the ones that we’re doing it for. You should always see beyond what you’re doing, to see the ones that you are doing it for.

The routines of professions are not necessarily one more spiritual than another. "Pastor," "secretary," "student," or "parent" are all titles of professions that apply to various sets of routines. They become "callings" only by the power of the Spirit. Without that Spirit, they remain nothing more than sets of routine.

I've assisted a photographer on a couple of projects and learned something about epiphany, and about looking for and seeing the light of life and meaning beyond or through something that would otherwise be without life or real meaning. To catch images like those you might see in the National Geographic takes incredible patience, long hours, effort, personal and financial investment…and lots of routine.

But, still, even after all that hard work and preparation, the 'right' picture needs to catch the sunlight (it’s called a 'catch-light') off the prairie dog's eye, or off the fern leaf, so that it gives 'life' to the animal or the plant. Without it, it’s just an image of a prairie dog. You might say to a friend, "Look at this picture."

It can take hundreds of pictures of the same prairie dog, to finally find the one that causes you to forget that it's just a "picture" of an prairie dog, so that instead of saying, "Look at this picture," you say, "Look at this prairie dog." It’s all because of a little glint off the eyes. Especially in unrehearsed, un-posed nature, this spark often lies beyond the photographer's control. Maybe it’s just luck—but it is more like a miracle, and an epiphany, when it happens.

You and I are called to discover the spirit, the spark of life, the spirit of Christ in all that we do. It is easily missed. Compared to the bold-faced solidness around us, the Spirit may appear as nothing more than a glint in the eye. But without it we are all dead. We would be without meaning. We depend upon that spark; it is everything; it is life.

George Buttrick, in his commnetary of Matthew's Gospel, put it this way: "For at long last we must believe, and we can believe, not in a philosophy or a creed, but only in a Person [with a capital ‘P’]; for only a Person can draw love, and principles [philosophies and creeds] without that Person are a land of ice." We must find that Person with a capital ‘P’ behind all our creeds, our philosophies, worship and routines.

Jesus doesn't come to necessarily call for a change in our routine or professional livelihood (though humility suggests that we be open to it: he might. After all, the disciples did leave their nets for a new, if similar, profession). No matter where he sends us, though, Jesus came to insert the Life, behind and into any of our routines and professions.

Think of all those fishermen who have remained in their boats, and continued throwing nets into the sea: Jesus came for them, too. We might remain fishermen or soldiers, secretaries or retirees, mechanics or pastors, but the priority of those livelihoods is dramatically changed: "I will make you fish for people." I will make you defend, not borders, but the lives of people behind those borders; I will make you repair, not cars, but protect the lives of people who ride in those cars. You are not just teaching Sunday School or Junior High, you’re teaching the children of God, his beloved. You are not just singing hymns or songs, you are singing to God.

Our normal routines are his vessels. So, even if we never change our profession, we are always called into Christian disciplines, routines—like weekly worship, daily prayer, regular Bible study—not only to fill us all the more with the realization of God's grace and salvation, but also to empower, excite, and inspire, and show us how our routine lives can "vessel" God to others.

God provides the missing spark that actually gives value and meaning. God adds Life to livelihood, an ultimate value in our tasks. Fishing, defending, donating, singing, and fixing all have the potential to reach beyond themselves. This is what makes us more than children of star-stuff, but instead, the children of God. Amen.