Oak Chapel United Methodist Church

All Sermons are © Copyrighted and may not be reproduced, in whole or in part, without the express permission of the author.

Forty-four men. Lawyers, farmers, merchants, a handful of plantation owners. Forty-four men representing Great Britain's thirteen American colonies. It was the summer of 1776. It was Philadelphia. It was hot. Thomas Jefferson, of Virginia, (thirty-three years old) wrote the final draft, and every man stepped forward and signed, acknowledging that (in so doing) they were pledging "their lives, their fortunes and their sacred honor." Indeed. From that moment on, failure would have meant absolute ruin for their families and certain death for them. They were spitting in the face of the King of England!

As one reads their Declaration of Independence, and listens as they carefully enumerated the abuses they had suffered (and continued to suffer) at he hands of the English, it is clear that, for these men, the time had come. After a hundred and fifty years, they had had enough. If they didn't make the break now, when would they make it? When would it be easier? When would it be less dangerous? Thank God for all of us, and for the millions who suffer oppression everywhere -thank God they put their hand to the plow and didn't look back. Not one made an excuse. No one said, "I have to do something. I'll be right back." The time was now!

These three poor souls who approach Jesus on the road, in today's scripture lesson, elicit a lot of sympathy from me. Their requests seem perfectly reasonable. What is wrong with Jesus? Why is he picking fights? (He's on his way to Jerusalem. That's what's wrong. He's on his way to die. And everyone else is acting as if they were going on a picnic, just riding along on a smile and a shoeshine. How ccould he impress upon them the seriousness of what was about to happen? How can he make them understand the cost of discipleship?)

The first man comes up and, with childish enthusiasm (granted), says, "I will follow you wherever you go." And Jesus tells him he'll have to sleep on the ground. "My way is a transient way, a vagrant way. Won't be any hotels. No luxury. No security." Following where Jesus leads is hard travelling. The second man, to whom Jesus says, "Follow me," replies, "Hey, great! Just give me a day or two. I need to go bury my father. I'll be right along. You'll see." "Let the dead bury the dead," Jesus growls. The third poor soul has an even more sensible request: "Let me just go home and say 'Goodbye.'" "No," Jesus says, "Anyone who puts his hand to the plow and looks back isn't fit for the kingdom of God." And so three well-intentioned men, who could have been disciples of our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ, fade off into the background. Even their names have been forgotten. When the time was right, they couldn't quite commit.

"There is a tide in the affairs of men…," Shakespeare said. A time to unfurl the sails of the soul, to undertake great adventures, to do great things. That's where these three men were. They were standing at that very intersection, where they had to go one way or the other. Nothing wrong with their other choices most of the time. Of course we want to arrange for our fathers' funerals. Of course, it's only decent to say "goodbye," to let our families know where we'll be. But something bigger is here. An incredible moment has arrived for these men, one chance not to be good but to be great. And nothing, not even a good thing, can be allowed to stand in the way. Martha, it's good to cook, and tidy-up most of the time. But, Martha, the Son of God is sitting in your living room. Put down your broom. It's good to love all those beautiful little pearls most of the time, but when "the pearl of great price" comes on the market, you have to be willing to sell them all. Opportunity is a fleeting thing, in faith as well as in business.

The poet R. H. Blythe defined sentimentality as "loving something more than God does." We are sinners, but we are not criminals. Most of us come to the communion table not tempted to do terrible things but, instead, torn between many good things. There are a thousand things which are good, and which we love, and which God (presumably) loves, too. But we get in trouble when we love these things more than God does. Cleanliness, for example. Rituals and traditions. Family values. Thrift. Friendship. Charity. All these are good most of the time - but there are times when we must lay them aside, even these good things, to follow Jesus. Because, if we miss his call when it comes, we've missed everything. Jesus would not have made a good minister. He stressed too much the downside of faith. For him it could not be just "love," a soupy, saccharine thing. For him it had to be sacrificial, suffering love. Only such self-surrender would avail to wash away the sins of the world. And he would do it - he was on his way. And he would demand that his followers do it, too. They had to choose. Why sugar-coat the pill? No excuses could possibly be accepted. He was calling his followers to live life backwards - to live it just the opposite of the way everyone else lives it.

In Ann Tyler's book, Saint Maybe, the central character, Ian (who is nineteen years old, and has already made a passel of mistakes) finds a church home in a little store-front congregation which calls itself, "The Church of the Second Chance." By a series of circumstances, Ian (with the support of his pastor) decides to take in and raise his brother's three small children, after his brother commits suicide. He tries to explain his decision to his parents: "Ian, have you fallen into the hands of some kind of sect?" his father asked. "No, I haven't," Ian said. "I have merely discovered a religion that makes sense to me, the way Dober Street Presbyterian makes sense to you and Mom." "Dober Street didn't ask us to abandon our educations," his mother told him. "Of course, we have nothing against religion; we raised all you children to be Christians. But our church never asked us to abandon our entire way of life." "Well, maybe it should have," Ian said. His parents looked at each other. His mother said, "I don't believe this. I do not believe it. No matter how long I've been a mother, it seems my children can still come up with something new and unexpected to do to me."

Jesus calls us to an entirely new way of life. Our friends and family will not understand. And the time to decide is now.