Episcopal Student Center - Austin, Texas
January 22, 2006: Sermon by The Rev. Miles Brandon
“Follow Me”
Epiphany 3, Year B
Mark 1:14-20


Prayer: Come Holy Spirit, come.  Take my lips and speak with them, take our minds and think with them, take our hearts and set them on fire with love for you.  In Christ’s name, we ask it.  Amen.

I can’t tell you how excited I was when I first learned that CS Lewis’s The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe was coming to the big screen.  I have to admit that I bought tickets for opening night and enjoyed the movie thoroughly.  The Lion the Witch and the Wardrobe and the entire Chronicles of Narnia, for that matter, have been beloved by me since I read them for the first time as a ten year old child.  Since that time, I have read them through two more times most recently during finals my first semester at seminary—that’s what I call procrastination.  Each time I enter the stories, I discover a new Gospel message for children of all ages.  As I am sure many of you know, the fourth book in the chronicles is named The Silver Chair, and it might be my favorite of the seven but admittedly that’s really hard to say. 

In The Silver Chair, we are introduced to a young girl named Jill who has just been transported into the magical and unfamiliar world of Narnia.  As she arrives in this new and strange land, she becomes terribly thirsty and, therefore, seeks out a body of water to have a satisfying drink.  Shortly, thereafter, Jill finds a stream, but, as she approaches it, she encounters a Lion, understandably a frightening creature to a small girl.  This particular Lion can speak.  The Lion is named Aslan, and what Jill doesn’t realize is that Aslan the lion is the Christ figure in the story.  When Jill sees the lion by the water, she is frightened and stops short of the stream.  CS Lewis writes:

The Lion said to her, “Are you not thirsty?” “I’m dying of thirst,” said Jill.  “Then drink,” said the lion.  “May I—could I—would you mind going away while I do,” said Jill.  The Lion answered this only by a look and a very low growl.  And, as Jill gazed at its smooth motionless bulk, she realized she might as well have asked the whole mountain to move aside for her convenience.  The delicious rippling noise of the stream was driving her nearly frantic.  “Will you promise not to—do anything to me, if I do come?” said Jill.  “I make no promises,” said the lion.  Jill was so thirsty now that, without noticing it, she had come a step nearer.  “Do you eat girls?” she said.  “I have swallowed up girls and boys, women and men, kings and emperors, cities and realms,” said the lion.  It didn’t say this as if it were boasting, nor as if it were sorry, nor as if it were angry, it just said it.  “I dare not come and drink,” said Jill.  “Then you will die of thirst,” said the lion.  “Oh dear!” said Jill, coming another step nearer.  “I suppose I must go and look for another stream then.”  “There is no other stream,” said the lion.  There is no other stream.

In tonight’s gospel lesson, we discover Jesus calling his first disciples.  He calls two pairs of brothers to follow him, first Andrew and Peter and then James and John.  Jesus is walking along the Sea of Galilee; and Mark tells us that Andrew and Peter, both fishermen, were casting their nets in the sea, presumably close to the shoreline.  As Jesus catches sight of them, he calls out, “Follow me, and I will make you fish for people.”  Immediately, Peter and Andrew leave their nets and follow him.  As the new company of three travels a little farther down the shoreline, they encounter two more fishermen, James and John the sons of Zebedee.  Mark tells us that James and John were sitting in their boat anchored along the shore mending their nets.  Sitting with James and John was their father and a hired hand.  When Jesus sees James and John working on the boat, he calls out to them just as before, “Follow me,” and, once again, immediately the two men get out of the boat and follow Jesus leaving their work and more amazingly their father behind.

Why were these four men so powerfully compelled to follow Jesus?  How were they so moved that they simply dropped everything that they were doing and followed him, including their careers, which was their livelihood and presumably that of their families as well.  Moreover, we are not talking about simply skipping out on work for the rest of the day, or for that matter the week or the month.  Andrew, Peter, James and John were compelled to leave their families, their lucrative careers, and all that was familiar behind and strike out on an undiscovered quest for who knows how long following a man who they had just begun to know.

The four fishermen’s dilemma is not that different from the young girl Jill’s in CS Lewis’s story.  Fishermen in the first century enjoyed a prosperous living.  Owning a boat and fishing equipment was a sign of reasonable financial comfort.  These four men were living well.  The idea of leaving it all behind for the foreseeable future must have been frightening, just as Jill had been frightened by the Lion.  Yet, just as Jill was compelled to keep moving toward the stream and drink despite her fear, Jesus’ call to follow compelled these four men to leave their boats and families despite the obvious perilous possibilities. 

In actuality, Jill is faced with a simple question.  Will she choose to risk drinking in the presence of a lion to live or will she assuredly die of thirst?  The one thing that can offer her life bubbles and ripples along in front of her—the stream.  And, as the lion points out, “There is no other stream.”  Therefore, the threat of danger is really irrelevant—the young girl is free to choose life, too drink deeply, and have her thirst satisfied. 

The disciple’s question is the same.  Will they choose to spiritually live or die, which, in the end, is the same thing as physical life or death.  The one thing that can offer these fishermen abundant life stands in front of them along the bubbling and rippling shoreline—Jesus.  And, as we proclaim by faith, Jesus is the way, the truth, and the life.  Therefore, the threat of leaving the safe and the familiar is irrelevant—the four men are free to choose life, too quest fearlessly, and have the desires of their hearts satisfied.

As the community of faith gathers, our risen Lord Jesus Christ is present among us.  Just as with his first followers, Jesus is calling out to you and to me right now.  Do you perceive it?  Do you sense it?  Do you hear it?  His words are the same as those with which he called out to his first disciples, “Follow me.”  “Follow me, and I will make you fish for people.”

Perhaps you are familiar with Warner Sallman's famous painting "Christ at the Door,” which is based loosely on a verse from the book of Revelation that reads, “Behold, I stand at the door and knock.”  In the painting, Jesus is standing outside in an unkempt garden knocking on a rusty- hinged door without handles, waiting for someone inside to hear and heed the call to open up.  In the painting, Sallman placed the secret shape of the human heart to communicate subliminally the message that each individual, you and I, control access to our hearts.  The point is Christ will not force himself into the human heart, but instead knocks patiently hoping that we will open our lives up to his transforming love.

Sallman’s painting is powerful; however, it is not an exact interpretation of the passage it is based on. The words "Behold I stand at the door and knock" were spoken not to the individual believer, but to the church—to the smug, self-satisfied, church of Laodicea. In other words, "the door" Jesus stands at and knocks on is not the door of the human heart, but the door of the church, and in the case of the commercial city of Laodicea, Jesus si knocking on the door of a busy, well-to-do church filled with ecclesiastically-proper, spiritually-lukewarm, money-making Christians.

The community of faith has locked Jesus outside his own church. He stands there, not so much trying to get his followers to let him come inside to stay, but to get them to follow him into the unkempt garden, which is the world around us.

Jesus calls the church, us, to follow him out into the world to be the means by which life is changed for the better.  We are the bearers of the good news that the kingdom of Heaven has come near.  Jesus is calling us out of our boats, or whatever might be safe and familiar to us, to proclaim truth, justice, and uprightness so that the nations of the world might be transformed and give glory to God.  John Wesley once said, “Do all the good you can, by all the means you can, in all the ways you can, in all the places you can, at all the times you can, to all the people you can, for as long as you ever can.”

We come to this place each week to have our batteries recharged if you will.  We come to this church to hear Jesus’ call to follow and be compelled to go out into the world as eyewitnesses of his majesty.  We come to this church to partake the food and drink of new and unending life, which empowers us to serve those who come to us in need or neglect.  Church work is done outside the walls of the church.

You and I are the community of faith gathered; therefore, Jesus is present among us.  He’s knocking at the door and calling out to us, “Follow me.”  Do you perceive it?  Do you sense it?  Do you hear it?  Follow me.  Like Jill in Lewis’ story and like those first disciples, the question before us is actually quite simple.  We can either choose a spiritual death which in the end is the same thing as physical death.  Or…or we can choose a life of abundance—a life that is only discovered by following Jesus out of this church and into the streets on a fearless quest into the undiscovered future.  Amen.        

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