There may be a few persons here today who may feel left out of this
homily. If you know exactly what you are meant to make of your life
and what you have to offer the world, and are in fact doing just that,
then you may with good conscience let your mind think other thoughts
during this part of the service. But my hunch is that most of us,
including me, can’t make such a strong assertion. Hopefully
we have some pieces of the answers in mind, but sense other pieces
are missing. We may well resonate with a “Cathy” cartoon
from a few years back. Cathy is with her dog reading a woman’s
“life review” magazine. The magazine article asks, “Have
you achieved fame and fortune?” and Cathy answers, “No.”
Then it asks, “Have you found a meaningful outlet for your unique
talents?” and again Cathy answers “No.” “Have
you given more than you’ve received?” “No.”
Then this question: “Have you become part of the baggage that
at least one man will haul into all his future relationships?”
“Yes!” Cathy exclaims, “I’m definitely part
of someone else’s emotional baggage.” And she turns to
the dog and says, “At least I can say I’ve had some impact!”
Hopefully
most of us long to have more impact than being someone else’s
emotional baggage. But at the same time we may well question what
we have to give—especially beyond our own immediate circle of
family and friends. We may say in so many words, “Who am I to
presume to be of some use in the greater scheme of things? What contribution
do I have to make to the world?” And, in the church, we may
well phrase it “I am simply not worthy.” So if that’s
where we find ourselves, we may well identify with Isaiah on the day
he had his vivid temple experience of God’s presence and holiness.
“How can I hold up my head in the presence of such a God?”
Isaiah asked. “How unworthy I am!” And we modern-day Isaiahs
may also question why God would want to use the likes of us—who
see ourselves as not good enough, or religious enough, or even gifted
enough—to be of use in God’s cause. So we opt for hovering
around the edges as we see fit, but shy away from any thought of serving
on the front lines.
So
it’s important to note that this is not where Isaiah’s
story ended. No sooner did Isaiah confess his unworthiness than God
said, “I’ll take care of that problem.” And with
the symbolic act of the burning altar coal touching Isaiah’s
lips, God declares that Isaiah’s sin and unworthiness are blotted
out and he now stands esteemed and worthy in God’s sight. And
then immediately God asks, “Whom shall I send, and who will
go for us?” Now Isaiah knows he has no exemption from service
to fall back on. And he has the grace to accept his own worthiness
and to answer, “Here I am—send me.”
To
me the burning altar coal in this story is a wonderful symbol. And
what it symbolizes is not that Isaiah’s “unworthiness”
is suddenly changed. Rather it says that Isaiah has been a worthy
candidate for service all along. By God’s grace Isaiah has the
giftedness and now the forgiveness he needs to serve in God’s
name. Isaiah just needed to feel God’s touch forcefully enough
to get the message. And a burning altar coal did the job.
This
story is of course the record of Isaiah’s call to ministry;
but it has relevance for all of us. “God doesn’t make
any junk,” the saying has it. The good news of our faith is
that every one of us is a person of worth who is meant to matter.
We each have a contribution to make in God’s scheme of things;
and discerning what our part is and then doing it is the key to the
fulfillment God created us for. That means that the “I’m
not good enough” claim won’t wash. God’s call to
service always has a “yes, you!” attached to it.
One
of my favorite Bible verses inlcudes these words of Paul in 1 Corinthians
15: “By the grace of God I am what I am, and his grace toward
me has not been in vain.” Paul had a number of reasons to feel
unworthy to be an apostle. He had persecuted the early Christians.
He was reputed to be a poor public speaker. He evidently had some
kind of limiting physical affliction. Often he was strongly opinionated,
and his leadership skills at times were abrasive. His ego and pride
could be intrusive. Yet despite all these limitations, Paul claimed
his call to serve. Now it’s true God had to shake Paul up quite
forcefully to get the message through to him. His Damascus Road experience
was not something he could ignore. But the point was that Paul really
got it, that even he was called to serve as an apostle; and God’s
grace was sufficient to make his ministry effective. In moments when
I have had doubts about my own effectiveness in ministry, I have found
much encouragement in believing that God’s grace toward me has
not been in vain either. And I would hope you would find the same
encouragement, for I believe these words are applicable to every one
of us.
So
God’s “Yes, you!” is addressed to all of us. But
whether we hear that and believe it depends on whether we will let
ourselves feel God’s touching us and calling us to matter. Too
many of us have been given messages in our past telling us we are
not gifted or capable, and in some cases that we should not aspire
to be. Keep a proper humility, we are told. Think of yourself as just
an ordinary, average person. And often we may feel more comfortable
buying into this kind of self-identity, because it saves us from the
risk of trying our wings and exploring the more we can be. So with
this mindset we don’t listen for God’s call in our life—either
because we don’t expect it, or because we don’t want our
status quo challenged. And it’s true that we can probably defend
our status quo successfully with such a mindset and avoid the risk
and effort of doing and being more.
But
what we miss is the joy and satisfaction of using our gifts meaningfully
and making our contribution to the wellbeing of God’s world.
We settle for “average” or “good enough” instead
of going for the specialness God has in mind for us. And both we and
our world lose out because of that.
I
believe God calls us to a different way of thinking about our lives.
God calls to remember that each of us has been given gifts, that each
of us is declared worthy by God, and that all of us are meant to contribute
to the good God wills for our world. The crucial question is not how
little can I get by with, but rather how can I matter as a child of
God. It is to believe that, whoever I am, God’s grace to me
will not be in vain if I am open to receive it.
And
part of being open to God is to anticipate that God may give us some
surprise nudges from time to time. Now to expect to be surprised is
a paradox of sorts. But when we believe that God has a vested interest
in what we make of our lives, it follows that God may work to touch
us and get our attention in the hope we will respond. Mostly God will
not be touching our lips with a burning coal or felling us on a Damascus
road. But God’s nudges will come, often in subtle ways; and
if we are alert to them, they will help guide us in ways of service
that are meaningful.
The
sacrament of communion is a reminder of how much God cares about us
and wants us to be the vital, fruitful people we were made to be.
To each of us God says, “Yes, you!” And by God’s
grace we can answer, “Here am I. Send me.”
©Larry
Young, 2007. Permission is given for brief quotation with attribution.
All other rights reserved.
First
United Methodist Church
1008 Eleventh Street
Santa Monica, CA 90403
www.santamonicaumc.org
(310) 393-8258
Yes,
You!