Do you remember
when your life changed?
Maybe it’s when
you met your spouse. Or realized
what you always wanted to do when you grew up. Maybe it was realizing that you do like brussels sprouts, after all. (As long as they are properly cooked.)
Pregnancy and
birth; physical injury or illness and their healing; relationships and
accidents are just some of the ways our lives change in noticeable, markable
ways, great and small.
Some of those
threshold moments sneak by, so that later you can tell it happened, but the how
and when are fuzzy. But others are
crystal clear. The sort where you vividly
remember the day and the time and the circumstances, years – even decades –
later.
For two
disciples, it was at four pm, the day after John saw Jesus.
Getting a notice
of timing like that in the gospel is rare and odd. I suspect that the whole reason it’s there today is so we,
the readers, can recognize this little story for the threshold moment it is: The
moment when life changes.
Years later,
those two could probably describe just how it was – sunny or cloudy, what they
were doing, and thinking, who was nearby – when at four that particular
afternoon they really saw Jesus, the
Messiah – and thus became his disciples.
I love those
kind of memories – love the sense of place and vividness and occasion they give
to my life story.
I can still see
the tangled maze of classrooms and offices I was looking at when I realized I was going to attend this new math and
science high school we’d been touring - even though I thought I hated
math. That experience profoundly changed
my life.
I vividly
remember the setting and conversation when I finally decided to come out about
my desire to be a priest.
And the angle of
the sunlight in the office of the diocesan deployment officer as I described an
idea of ministry with a congregation much like Calvary, just a few months
before you sent out your search profile.
But I don’t have
any memory like that about deciding to follow Jesus. No sharp, clear memory of becoming a disciple.
I suspect some
of you do have vivid memories of that life-changing experience of seeing,
believing, and following Jesus – and that many of you, like me, have no such
thing. For the most part, we’ve
grown up in a world that takes the story of Jesus for granted.
So I admit, I’m
sometimes a little envious of the disciples in the gospel and the fresh,
firsthand experiences that revealed God to them in Jesus. So I read the stories carefully for
clues to sharing that experience. And there are two things in particular I
noticed about today’s story.
The first is
that these disciples found Jesus by listening to other people. Simon listens to his brother
Andrew. Andrew and his buddy
listened to John the Baptist, their teacher and leader. John listened to the One who told him
how to recognize the Son of God. All of them listened and responded when someone said: Look!
That’s critical.
I hear stories – and perhaps you do, too – that just sound ridiculous to
me. Announcements and claims about
the end of the world, or the next big thing, or a powerful spiritual
experience. My rational mind
has doubts, and I nod, but don’t respond – I don’t act on the news. That’s a way to protect myself from
both anxiety and boredom, but I’m sure I’ve also missed some real gifts that
way. Because listening, and acting on it, opens doors.
And then there’s
the other piece in today’s story.
A pivotal question:
What are you
looking for?
That’s the first
question Jesus asks – the first words he speaks in John’s entire gospel.
Two people have
peeled off from their own teacher, John the Baptist, and started trailing after
Jesus around town. So he turns to
them and asks: What are you
looking for?
It’s an entirely
reasonable question, given the context, and their response: “Where are you
staying?” makes some basic sense, even if it might feel a little stalker-ish
between strangers in our day and age.
But there’s so much more to it.
But there’s so much more to it.
These two first
followers are telling Jesus they want to join in, to hang out with him, to abide – a term with true relational
depth. They are looking for a home
with the Lamb of God.
They may not
know they’ve said that much. They
might just be curious.
But Jesus
answers their desire – simple or deep – with a practical, physical answer and
an invitation to expanding relationship.
“Come and see,” he
says. See for yourselves, and see what God is doing. So they see, and they abide.
And it was four
in the afternoon when their lives changed.
What if Jesus,
in the flesh, here today, turned to you right now and asked, “What are you
looking for?”
What would you
say?
Listen seriously
and deeply to yourself for a moment, now.
What are you looking for,
right now?
There are no
wrong answers.
Honesty with God
about your simple curiosity is just as important an answer as a quest for the
meaning of life.
I was just looking
for a less boring Saturday afternoon when I agreed to tour the Math and Science
Academy. Twenty-mumble years
later, I can tell you that what I found (at about two o’clock in the afternoon)
was rich relationships, permission to believe in myself, and that gift of joy
and wonder in all God’s works that we pray for at baptism.
So what are you looking for?
That’s what
changes your life.
That’s what lets
God in to guide your journey, to walk beside you, to teach, to hang out, to
heal.
That’s what lets
you commit your whole heart to God.
What are you
looking for, right now?
Write it down.
(Yes, really.
Write it down.)
You can offer
that desire to God, putting it in the offering plate (we won’t read them – just
offer them to God). Or you can
take that note home, put it on your fridge or in your datebook, keeping that
response in front of your eyes.
I want to
encourage you to answer that question two more times this week. Once when you’re relaxed, and once when
you’re busy. Listen honestly to
yourself, write it down, offer it to God.
Maybe you’ll
remember - vividly - the time this week when your life changed.
Maybe you won’t. Many of the changes God makes in our
lives are subtle and slow.
But listen to
others, and listen for the voice of Jesus.
Because God is asking you:
What are you
looking for?
Lovely, Emily. Thank you!
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