In this long season after Pentecost – the green season, Ordinary Time – we encounter Jesus and explore what it means and looks like to be people of faith and people who follow Jesus outside the special occasions, the holidays, the defining moments of Jesus life and our faith. We live into the story we tell and the relationship with God to which we are called with what author Eugene Peterson calls “a long obedience in the same direction.” This is the life of discipleship – following, walking with, and growing closer to Jesus. And it is a journey. It doesn’t happen at once. It is one that requires intentionality and continual growth as we become more faithful followers who live and look and act like Jesus.
Our Gospel readings over the last several weeks, beginning on the Second Sunday after Pentecost with the calling of Matthew, have all been about discipleship and the life of those who follow Jesus. And its not always comforting. We’ve heard Jesus tell us those who follow him and live the way of life he calls us to may very well find themselves unwelcome or persecuted. We’ve heard Jesus’ words, “Those who find their life will lose it, and those who lose their life for my sake will find it.” Those are hard things to swallow. How I wish following Jesus meant a life of comfort, security, and freedom from the difficult experiences of life. But that is not the life Jesus calls us into. No, Jesus calls us into something fuller, more expansive, and more true.
You see, as Christians and those who follow Jesus, we have seen a glimpse of the world, humanity, and all of creation as they truly are. We’ve seen a glimpse of God’s kingdom – the way God intended creation to be from the beginning. The kingdom of God is where we find wholeness, healing, peace, and relationship with God and one another. And in the midst of our broken world – and even our broken selves – our faith gives us eyes to see the beauty of God’s kingdom emerging in our midst.
Even when our world is rocked by violence and war, when others are demonized and their human dignity violated, we can find God’s kingdom among us. Even when our country, our cities, and our neighborhoods are divided along political and ideological lines and it becomes hard to love our neighbors with whom we fervently disagree, we can find God’s kingdom among us. Even when our relationships with God, others, or are ourselves are less than a full reflection of God’s perfect love, we can find God’s kingdom among us. And we can find God’s kingdom because we have seen and encountered and come to know Jesus. We have experienced that God can and does and always will redeem; that there is nothing that can overcome the love of God breaking into the mess of our world.
As our gospel reading today makes clear, this belief – this inescapable reality of God’s kingdom – makes us peculiar. Those who cling to power or security or the illusion of self-sufficiency miss it – they do not have the eyes to see things the way they truly are. “This generation” – whether first century Palestine or 21st century America or anything in between – oftentimes misses the writing on the wall, misses the cues of God’s kingdom emerging all around us. And that can make this world both a lonely and a tempting place to live as we follow Jesus.
Lonely because we may very well see the world differently than others. Lonely because our belief or our way of life may very well be dismissed as irrational or fantastical. Lonely because it may seem like too much to hold to a hope for a world that is whole in the midst of a world that may seem too broken and divided for repair. And this is why we need one another, why this journey of discipleship is not meant to be an isolated journey. It is why we need a community like St. Luke’s in which to support and encourage one another to continue on as we follow Jesus. We were created for community and we need community. And that is one of the deep blessings of the church, of St, Luke’s. It is a community in which we can be in relationship, a community in which we can learn and grow, and a community in which we can gather around a table and offer our prayers as we encounter Jesus before being sent back out into the world to be a part of what God is doing to put it back together.
This is an interesting time in the history of St. Luke’s to be talking about needing one another, about committing not just to following Jesus but doing so in community. Because in the coming months, God willing, we won’t be here anymore. This building – all the buildings on the property – which we have called home, which have been familiar and convenient – will be no more. We’ll be meeting somewhere else for church in a space that is not our own, in which we might have to take on more responsibility to make church happen each week, which might not be as comfortable or convenient. And it would be very easy in those years of exile to take a step back and engage maybe a little bit less. It wouldn’t last forever, we’d tell ourselves. we’ll keep loving and following Jesus on our own, and of course we’d come back when we move back into a new church space on this corner of Ballard. But we are St. Luke’s because of each one of us that calls this church home, not because of a building. You are a part of this church’s witness and ministry in our community. Your presence, your prayers, your gifts, the ways you serve are what allow us to be the church God has called us to be. Discipleship doesn’t stop when circumstances change, when we move, or when worship on Sunday morning maybe requires a little bit more of us. That is our opportunity to lean in, to walk the talk, to truly be the church we say we are even before our vision for the future becomes a reality.
I say this world can be a tempting place to live as we follow Jesus because security, power, or self-sufficiency look really good. Maybe following Jesus is just too hard, too demanding, or too costly…maybe it would be easier to try and do this thing called life our own way for a bit. Sure, we’ll follow the rules and be kind, good people. That should be enough, right? The Apostle Paul has something to say about this and it sounds exhausting. In fact, it is exhausting – trust me, I’ve been there, and I imagine you have as well. “I do not do what I want, but I do the very thing I hate…I do not do the good I want, but the evil I do not want is what I do.” For even the strongest among us, life lived by sheer self-will alone never leads us where we think it will, never brings us to the fullness of who and what we were created to be. Even the most devout religious observance can leave us feeling empty and longing for something more.
And it is here that we find Jesus’ invitation to come to him. “Come to me, all you who are weary and are carrying heavy burdens, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me; for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light.” Sounds wonderful, doesn’t it? This thing we call faith, the Christian life, following Jesus, is at the same time so simple, and yet so difficult.
I don’t know about you, but I am drawn to the first and last of those three verses – the part about rest, easy, light. But we miss it if that is all we hear, and in fact, many of our translations miss it, too. Jesus’ yoke – his way of life and his teachings – are not easy. A better translation would be that his yoke is kind or good. I am reminded here of CS Lewis’ description of Aslan in The Lion, the Witch & The Wardrobe. As you may recall, the Chronicles of Narnia are an allegory of the gospel – the tale of kingdoms clashing and the kingdom of God ultimately emerging victorious under the rule of Aslan – the Christ figure. As the children – Lucy, Edmund, and Peter – first meet Mr. and Mrs. Beaver – residents of Narnia, they hear about this one called Aslan. This is their dialogue:
“Is he a man?” asked Lucy.
“Aslan a man!” said Mr. Beaver sternly. Certainly not. I tell you he is King of the wood and the son of the great emperor-beyond-the-sea. Don’t you know who is the King of the Beasts? Aslan is a lion – the Lion, the great lion.”
“Ooh!” said Susan, “I’d thought he was a man. Is he – quite safe? I shall feel rather nervous about meeting a lion.”
“That you will, dearie, and no mistake” said Mrs. Beaver; “if there’s anyone who can appear before Aslan without their knees knocking, they’re either braver than most or else just silly.”
“Then he isn’t safe?” said Lucy.
“Safe?” said Mr.. Beaver; “don’t you hear what Mrs. Beaver tells you? Who said anything about safe? ‘Course he isn’t safe. But he’s good. He’s the King, I tell you.”
Following Jesus isn’t easy or safe, but it is good. The yoke of Jesus fits just right and where it will lead you will bring the fullest parts of your humanity to the fore as you join in the work God has given you to do in our world.
I’ve been sitting with this image of following Jesus – literally walking down the dusty road following the one who will show us the life we were created for. Because that is what Jesus’ first disciples did. They left their lives and their homes behind and responded to Jesus’ invitation to follow him. And they walked along with Jesus – for miles and miles over three years around Galilee. They didn’t follow because it was going to be easy – the easy thing would have been to stay at home and keep on fishing. No, they left because they caught a glimpse of something real and true in Jesus and they wanted to see and experience more. And after all of those miles walking along the dusty roads of Galilee following Jesus, they must have been covered in dust. Dust kicked up by Jesus’ feet as he showed them what it means to live in relationship with God and others. It is in following Jesus that we find we find the fullness of what our souls long for. So may we get dirty. Dirty from the dust Jesus kicked up ahead of us as we follow him. Dirty from dust we kick up together as we do the work to which God has called us. And as we are dusty and dirty, may we find the rest that comes only from that journey.
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