Creekside Church Sermon of January 26, 1997 "Follow the Leader " Mark 1:14-20	Rev. David Bibbee
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The farmers voice grew somber, "Well, coach, there is one thing you could do, if you would." "Name it." "Did you see that old mule by the road as you pulled in?" "Yes." "Well coach, that mule has been with us for twenty years. She's like a member of the family, and last week the Vet said that Ethel has a painful, fatal disease and should be put out of her misery. Coach, I just can't do it. Would you help us out?" Coach Teaff said with a sympathetic smile, "It's the least I can do."

Walking to the truck, the coach crafted a sly idea. He made a scowling face to provoke the assistant's curiosity. "What's wrong?" "I'll tell you what's wrong. That old guy infuriated me. I can't believe it. He said Baylor would never win another game as long as we coach there." "What?" "There's more. He said we were probably the worst coaching staff in football history." "Well, why did he ask us to come here to hunt?" "He said he didn't give us permission and if we didn't get off his land he would call the law." The assistant shook his head, "Unbelievable," he kept saying.

"That guy made me so mad I'm gonna shoot his mule over there." "Coach, no, you can't do that or we'll be in trouble for sure! You can't shoot his mule." "I don't care. I'm sick of people bad-mouthing Baylor. This will change his tune." He pulled his gun off the rack lined up the sights on the poor old mule to do her a favor, and squeezed the trigger. BANG! And just as he turned to catch his assistant's reaction, he was startled by the blast of two additional shots. BANG! BANG! from the other side of the truck and the assistant shouted, "I got two of his cows, coach! Let's get outta here!"

The incident never happened, but it does say something about the error of blind loyalty that calls for an immediate spotlight of correction wherever we see it. Yet it is precisely this sort of bold, passionate abandon that the Gospels offer as the desired response to Jesus. There were words Jesus uttered which reverberate to the present, and require a response now as then. Just two words, yet no two words have caused more questioning and changed more lives than..."Follow me."

It is not an invitation which the likes of us answer in an instant...not without questions. Follow you? Follow you where to? How far? For how long? What can I bring? What will I leave? What do I get for the trouble? Predictable questions. But while the answers will not be the same for everyone, one thing is for sure...the places and circumstances to which he leads you, you probably wouldn't pick for yourself. The decision you make to follow or not follow, is not one people like us are inclined to make ...on the impulse of the moment. But reading the call of the first disciples in Mark makes me wonder.

Every time I read Mark, I get the impression he is in a hurry. Short sentences. Only the barest detail. Seventeen times he uses the word "immediately." Time is wasting. There's a story to tell. Passing along the Sea of Galilee, he saw Simon and Andrew. They were fishermen. He said, "Follow me and you will catch people." Immediately they left their nets and followed him. That's it. There has to be more. There had to be conversation and questioning...hours worth. Jesus needed to know who he was calling. Simon and Andrew wouldn't just walk away from their livelihood on the basis of "follow me" without posing some carefully crafted questions.

It is like asking someone, "What did you do on your vacation?" "We drove West. Saw the Grand Canyon. Saw Old Faithful. We drove home." Garnett Heeter would have given Mark an F for his narrative. No detail. No discourse. No drama. Just, "Follow me, Simon and Andrew. Follow me, James and John." And they drop their nets on the pier, and leave their boats to collect barnacles. Down at the tax office Matthew leaves in the middle of a big audit. No good-bye to the wife and kids? No forwarding address? There had to be more to it than this. Jesus had to have spent lots of time and persuasion to convince these men to leave the lives they had known for life on the road with an itinerant preacher.

We say it because we can't imagine ourselves dropping everything in an instant to follow him. We don't rush into major decisions without thinking things through, weighing the options, checking references, consulting with knowledgeable people. We line up the facts. We run a cost analysis. Then we might decide. We would feel uncomfortable if it did happen the way Mark says, because then all our posturing before the invitation of Jesus would be seen for what it is...a stall tactic.

"Faith," someone said, "is stepping out into the unknown with nothing to guide us but a hand just beyond our grasp." It is not a rational thing. It is going without knowing. Going forward without facts. We weren't taught to make big decisions this way. Our Brethren tradition has taught us to count well the cost of following Jesus. Be sure you have the resolve to remain when the world chisels away at your decision. But the part of you that decides to follow Jesus is not the logical part--not the "this makes perfect sense" part. Frederick Buechner says that, "Faith describes the direction our feet start moving when we find we are loved." We set off with Jesus on impulse, out of passion.

One of the first things they do to you in seminary is set you in a room with all the other incoming students, lock the doors, and everyone must answer the questions: "How did you end up here?" and "What makes you think you should be a minister?" The stories are varied as the people. Many people think the call to ministry is a dramatic, spiritual fireworks sort of experience complete with the sky torn asunder and a booming (usually male) voice from heaven. Occasionally a call is like this. Most of the time, however, it is rather plain in comparison. Rob was a biochemist. His marriage was in deep distress. After lots of therapy and prayer he and his wife reconciled. Started going to church again. About that same time someone asked him to teach the youth for a month of Sundays. They loved him. One said he would like to have a minister like Rob. That was it. Steve was a TV anchorman in Minnesota. One Sunday he read the scripture in worship and some little lady told him he read so well and had such a wonderful voice. "You should be a pastor." He read well? He had a good voice? That was it. Such a big decision from such a little, seemingly insignificant comment. But it is how God speaks.

Obviously, they didn't drop everything at that moment. They weighed the alternatives, discerned what and who was at work, but ultimately, the decision hinged on an impulse; nothing but an inviting nudge, a blind leap of loyalty and faith. Back at the lab and the TV station people were scratching their heads. "You are leaving what you worked so hard for because some little old lady said you read well?" In a moment, reason and critical thinking slip to the background and you don't know what it means, but you utter a "Yes" from deep within to One deep beyond. You leave your nets on the pier. The IRS form 1040ES on the desk. You drop whatever it is you were doing and dreaming and thinking and planning, and like Simon and Andrew, immediately follow him.

Of course, not everyone Jesus invited accepted the invitation. A wealthy young man walked away because he was married to his money. A scribe said he would follow Jesus wherever he would go. Then Jesus told him there would be no roof over his head or pillow under it. Another said he would come as soon as he buried his father. In the parable of the banquet the invited guest declined to come for one reason or another. Reasonable reasons. More have declined than have accepted, and we understand why.

This passage from Mark begins, "Now after John was arrested..." Just five words to say that the one who prepared the road for Jesus to walk would have his head served on a platter. What fate then would await Jesus? What about those who followed on the way?

There is no surprise about our wanting to hear more than Mark tells us. But he doesn't need to. Caution, reason, and careful calculation, holding out for more--it is all a defense against accepting the invitation. The only part of us that can respond is that impulsive, willing to risk, hunger for something deeper part which declares that despite the risks and unknowns, I will stake everything on this decision, for no other reason than the hunch that it is what God wants me to do.

Sometimes I'm as struck with what Jesus didn't say, as what he did. He didn't say to Peter and Andrew, "Consider me," because he didn't come to form a discussion group. He didn't say, "Worship me," so we could wrap him up in praise and music. He didn't say, "Write a book about me," so we could spend our time speculating upon his real nature and pass the information about him on to others. He didn't say, "Build buildings to house a religion for me," so we would be preoccupied with the cares and concerns of an institution. All have their place, but he asked for none of this...he asked us to, "Follow him." He asked us to be brave and bold and go where he goes. Though our motives aren't always clear, though we are absolutely imperfect and invariably we fail, he tells us to do as he does.

Feed my sheep. Feed my lambs. Look after the least, remembering that when you help them, you help me. Welcome the children. Heal the sick. Join the priesthood of people from every stripe and station to tell the world that the Kingdom of God is at hand...turn around and believe the good news.

If having all the facts ahead of time to make a well reasoned assessment is what is necessary to follow Jesus, Mark would have said so. But he didn't. He gives the barest basics. There was something so powerful about this preacher that people put down what they were doing and followed him. Followed without the facts. Followed in faith.

All that he said, all that he did ultimately comes back to this invitation. It is an invitation to keep coming back to while we are discerning what God wants us to become, what God wants us to hold fast to, and what God wants us as a church to let go of. It's time to see the leader and follow. All he ever said and did is summed in that simple, succinct invitation. Uncertain? Risky? Scared of what will happen should you say yes? Of course!

The French spiritual writer Michel Quoist has written something which expresses what we fear, but expresses even more what God desires. Just listen:

I'm afraid of saying "Yes," Lord.
Where will you take me? I'm afraid of drawing the longer straw,
I'm afraid of signing my name to an unread agreement,
I am afraid of the "Yes" that entails other "Yeses."

And yet I am not at peace. You pursue me, Lord, you besiege me.
I seek out the din for fear of hearing you, but in a moment of silence you slip through.
I turn from the road, for I have caught sight of you, but at the end of the path you are there awaiting me.
Where shall I hide? I meet you everywhere.
Is it then impossible to escape you?

But I am afraid to say "Yes," Lord. I'm afraid of putting my hand in yours, for you hold onto it.
I have loved you Lord, I have worked for you: I gave myself for you.
O great and terrible God, what more do you want?

Son, I want more for you and for the world.
Until now you have planned your actions, but I have no need of them.
You have asked for my approval, you have asked for my support, you have wanted to interest me in your work.
But don't you see, son, that you were reversing the roles?

I have watched you, I have seen your good will,
And I want more than you, now.
You will no longer do your own works, but the will of your father in heaven.

Say "Yes," son.
For it is I who must do your work,
It is I who must live in your family,
It is I who must be in your neighborhood, and not you.
For it is my look that penetrates, and not yours,
My words that carry weight, and not your,
My life that transforms, and not yours.
Give all to me, abandon all to me.
I need your "Yes" to be united with you and to come down to earth.
I need your "Yes" to continue saving the world!

O Lord, I am afraid of your demands, but who can resist you?
That your Kingdom may come and not mine,
That your will may be done and not mine,
Help me to say "Yes."

Thanks to William Willimon for the ideas which helped shape this sermon, and to Berry Johnson for the story of Coach Grant Troff.

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