A Calling

The line is pretty clear. Jesus does not mince his words: You cannot serve two masters. You can’t call yourself Christian and ignore what Christ is about. Which means you can’t follow Jesus and march in step with Rome at the same time.

​A few years back, Kathleen told me she believes married folks should re-evaluate their wedding vows every decade or so. Not because love fades, but because people grow.

She’s right. We’re not the same people we were when we promised each other forever.
 
People change. Situations change. The world changes every day.

​Heraclitus famously understood: “No one ever steps in the same river twice, for it’s not the same river, and they’re not the same person.”

Change is a natural part of evolution. Sometimes it’s as simple as a change in weather. Or getting a new car when your old one dies.

​But then there are those changes that cost dearly.

​Right now, in the country that I know and love … life as we know has changed. Depending on where you’re morals and ethics stand, it’s either for better or worse. History will attest; empires fall. And all kings die. What they leave behind in their wake, will always create something new.
 
So, if all this insanity that is happening around our country has left you feeling distraught or hopeless, consider this. Jesus’ entire ministry is rooted in change, moving us from our smaller ego-centered selves into full divine beings.
 
As I stated last week, such transformation is a part of salvation. And as Jesus will show with his own life, … such salvation comes with a cost.

From that time Jesus began to proclaim, “Repent, for the kingdom of heaven has come near.” 
As he walked by the Sea of Galilee, he saw two brothers, Simon, who is called Peter, and Andrew his brother, casting a net into the sea—for they were fishers. And he said to them, “Follow me, and I will make you fishers of people.” Immediately they left their nets and followed him. As he went from there, he saw two other brothers, James son of Zebedee and his brother John, in the boat with their father Zebedee, mending their nets, and he called them. Immediately they left the boat and their father and followed him.  - Matthew 4:17-22 - 

“Repent, for the kingdom of heaven has come near.”

​Jesus doesn’t say it’s coming, but that it has come. And he says the only way to see it is to repent.
 
For many of us, this word carries a lot of baggage. Stuffed with shame, guilt, and fear. I was taught it meant clean up your act, to stop sinning or else. And it was that “or else” part they loved to focus their attention on.
 
But is that what Jesus meant? Most scholars agree the problem began when the Bible went from Greek into Latin. St. Jerome translated the word “Metanoia” as “due penance” which eventually evolved into the word repent.
 
As I mentioned briefly last week, if we parse metanoia, we’d see meta means “beyond.” And noia means “mind.” So the most literal way to translate the word would be to say, “to go beyond your mind.” 
 
Change the way you see things. Think different. That doesn’t sound like condemnation, but liberation, transformation. Which seems to keep in line with Jesus’ teachings and ministry.
 
For those of you who don’t like change, bear in mind that our minds are changing every day. By algorithms that reward outrage. By headlines designed to provoke fear. By comment sections that reduce friends to enemies. Social media has rewired us to react before we reflect.

But still, Jesus offers us a new way.
 
He calls for metanoia—a fundamental reorientation of how we think. Because it’s how we think that will change the way our heart and hands react.
 
Jesus uses metanoia not just to get us to stop certain behaviors, but to re-center our focus away from the self and toward the kingdom he inaugurates. It’s a call to move beyond the ego and align the heart with God.
 
Which brings us to the shoreline—and to two brothers we met last week. Only this time, Andrew and Simon aren’t searching for enlightenment. They’re working. Doing what they’ve always done. Casting nets. Catching fish.
 
This was a family business, something they could probably do with their eyes closed. But still, it took skill. It took balancing on boats. Tossing large, heavy nets that required many hands working together in sync.
 
Right there, in the middle of an ordinary workday, Jesus interrupts their routine and calls out, “Follow me, and I will show you how to fish for people.”

On the surface, it sounds like a joke. And yet, for some reason they trust his word, drop their nets, and reorient their lives to follow him.
 
You might not fish for a living, but we all have nets. Schedules. Expectations. The quiet belief that our worth is measured by how busy or productive, or successful we appear to be.

So we keep casting—more hours, more output, more proof that we matter. Then Jesus walks into the middle of all that and says, “Follow me. I will teach you a new way of seeing yourself and others.”
 
Which raises a real question for us all: Are we willing to take Jesus seriously? Are we willing to let go of what we think makes us who we are, to become like him?
 
I’m not asking a rhetorical question. You follow Jesus. Or you don’t. Which takes us from the shoreline to the sidewalk.
 
Things are happening in our country—done in his name—that are antithetical to his teachings. Human beings, beloved children made in God’s image, are being murdered, kidnapped, oppressed, starve, and terrorized at the hands of many who call themselves Christian.

Do they not know what that word means, what responsibility it carries?
 
If you claim to be Christian and use Jesus’ words to promote cruelty, brutality, and suffering than you are not Christ but anti-Christ. That’s the literal definition of the word.
 
Case in point, the Department of War (as they call it now) created propaganda using the beatitudes to recruit soldiers to fight wars both abroad and at home. The freaking Beatitudes! The sacred blessings Jesus offers those hurt the hardest by the Empire. Is this what Jesus meant when he said, “Blessed are the peacemakers.”
 
The line is pretty clear. Jesus does not mince his words: You cannot serve two masters. You can’t call yourself Christian and ignore all that Christ is about. Which means, you can’t follow Jesus and march in step with Rome at the same time.
 
So, where does that leave us? Richard Rohr writes, “Those who respond to the call and agree to carry and love what God loves—which is both the good and the bad—and to pay the price for its reconciliation within themselves, these are the followers of Jesus Christ.”
 
In other words, to say yes to this life-changing invitation is to carry God’s love within you, at all times, for the salvation and healing of the world. Not pain, not suffering, not war, or murder. But life. And life abundant in the sacred name of Christ Jesus.
 
History is full of people who’ve acted beyond their self-interest, for the good of others and the world. Gandhi, Oscar Schindler, Martin Luther King Jr. to name a few. Then there’s Mother Teresa, Dorothy Day, Oscar Romero, Cesar Chavez; each of whom were considered a threat to the state because of how they loved “the least of these.”
 
Then there’s Renee Good and Alex Pretti, and all the other citizens who’ve been murdered at the hands of our own government. Why? For exercising their constitutionally protected rights? Or for exposing the sin that’s infecting our communities like the horrific cancer it is?
 
There are countless unsung heroes who bear witness to the Way of Jesus every day. Ordinary people who responded to his call saying, “Here I am.” Men and women, who pick up their cross and follow Jesus, knowing the cost that comes with it.

If you want to know who they are, just look at who they love. Our immigrant neighbors, our queer children, and yes, even our loudmouth, bigoted relatives blinded by their own privilege and rage.
 
Following Jesus isn’t about amassing power or being right. It’s about being humble and vulnerable. It’s about being like him. Loving God. Loving others. Serving both.
 
Love finds its strength, in unity and partnership with Christ Jesus, who shows us with his own life, how to stand with the powerless and hold up those who others avoid.

Love refuses to dehumanize. It doesn’t turn a blind eye to injustice or ignore inequality. It speaks up for truth no matter the cost.
 
Jesus was very clear, that this kind of love can be risky. Uncomfortable. And self-emptying. But he also said, it’s this kind of love that sets his followers apart from the status quo.
 
Following Jesus has always meant choosing a different way. A way that changes us, reorients our way of seeing and being. When our eyes are open like his, our hearts and minds can become his.

And that’s the point. To be like him.
 
No matter how hard one tries to weaponize it, the word Christian will always mean being a follower of Christ. His way. His truth. His life. His love.
 
Like Rohr points out, Christian faith has “little to do with believing the right things about God beyond the fact that God is love itself.”

If it’s not love, it can’t be God.

This can be difficult to recognize when our eyes are fixed on the world’s way of seeing rather than God’s.
 
So in closing, I want to leave you with Paul’s encouraging words written to the church in Rome. “Do not be conformed to this world, but be transformed by the renewal of your mind, that by testing you may discern what is the will of God, what is good and acceptable and perfect” (Romans 12:2).
 
Jesus reorients our hearts, so that we will do God’s will, in this sacred kingdom called life. This change starts with call: Metanoia. And follow.
 
This invitation isn’t for a select few who say a sinner’s prayer and profess a list of doctrine. Jesus still offers this invitation to everyone. And anyone who is willing and brave enough to drop their nets and follow him.
 
So where do you stand?