Call stories
Clare L. Hickman
St. Luke’s Episcopal Church
February 6, 2022—Epiphany 5C
Isaiah 6:1-8, [9-13]; 1 Corinthians 15:1-11; Luke 5:1-11
God shows up; we respond. That’s the season of Epiphany in a nutshell. We get a glimpse of the power and person of God, and that changes us. Quite often, if scripture is any guide, it sends us on a journey. But we don’t all take the same journey, as we see in the three very different call stories that make up our lectionary today.
In the passage from Isaiah, we find the prophet at the beginning of his ministry. Living in the midst of exceedingly uncertain times, in which the Assyrian Empire is attacking from all sides, he knows how terrified the people of Israel are. And when people are scared, they tend to get defensive. The last thing they want to hear is a list of the ways in which they brought about their own downfall.
But Isaiah has already spent five chapters forcing them to do just that: detailing the country’s unfaithfulness, their greed and their pride, their lack of attention to the poor, the widow and orphan. All of their current misfortune, he insists, grows out of this sickness at the heart of their nation. And you can just imagine how popular this proclamation makes him!
It’s no wonder Isaiah needs a vision to keep him going. And indeed, he gets a doozy: Transported to the Temple, he finds himself standing before the throne of God, with seraphs singing “Holy, Holy, Holy.” Overcome by the sight, every doubt he has ever had about his worthiness to speak on God’s behalf overflows, as he cries: “I am lost, for I am a man of unclean lips!”
Still, though, he’s aware of the significance of seeing God face to face. And a seraph touches a burning coal to his lips, declaring him healed, forgiven, and the very opposite of lost. So that when God asks, “Whom shall we send?” Isaiah responds without hesitation: “Send me!” Ready, once again, to be the voice reminding the nation of their responsibility to care for those who are in need. Even when God goes on to remind him that he will still most likely be ignored and despised for pointing these things out. Because, well, that’s the way it goes.
Paul’s backstory is different, which is perhaps why his epiphany involves him being knocked to the ground, rather than transported to the throne of God. Here in First Corinthians, he only alludes to the story, but it is told three times in the Book of Acts: How he had used his own religious authority to persecute the followers of Jesus; how he had held the cloaks for those who stoned Stephen to death; and how he was traveling to Damascus to round up all the Christians, and bring them back to Jerusalem in chains. But on the road, he is blinded by a great light, and brought to his knees by the power and presence of Jesus, who rebukes him for his violent opposition (Acts 9:1-19; Acts 22:6-21; and Acts 26:12-18). Told by Jesus to go to the house of Ananias, he regains his sight when he repents of his ways and accepts the call to go and tell the good news of Jesus’ death and resurrection to the Gentiles.
Peter, James and John, for their part, are just going about their daily lives. Unlike Isaiah and Paul, they aren’t in the religion business. They‘re fishermen. Fishermen who have spent the entire night on the lake, with nothing to show for it. Tired and disheartened as they likely are, they still take Jesus out in their boat when he needs a better vantage point to preach from. And then, when he urges them to take their nets, the nets they’d already laid out on the beach to dry, and cast them into the deep water, they do it. Despite the fact that they’re exhausted. Despite the fact that they are the fishermen, and he is a carpenter’s son. Perhaps there’s something in them that can already tell it’s about more than the fish, or maybe it’s that the power in Jesus is so clear that it calls to them.
So they do it. They follow his advice, and the result is miraculous! After a night in which all their skill and knowledge brought them nothing, their nets are now so full that it threatens to sink their boats! Following Jesus, it seems, brings an astonishing abundance.
This might look a little like Prosperity Gospel, in which following Jesus brings great wealth. But as soon as he’s caught their attention, Jesus makes it clear that he’s offering something very different. Something more significant, more meaningful, and by divine measures, more valuable. You think all these fish are miraculous, he asks? Come with me, and we won’t be bringing fish to market; we will be bringing people into the kingdom of God!
And they come. They don’t even sell that last, huge catch. They leave it all behind, and follow him.
Three different epiphanies. Three different call stories. Isaiah is granted a vision, to strengthen him for his often-discouraging task. Paul is knocked to the ground, to call him out of his sin. And the fishermen were out-fished by a carpenter’s son, to invite them into deeper and more meaningful work. Yours might be similar to any one of these, or something else entirely, depending on where you are and what’s needed at any given point in your life. Jesus will show up, and he will pick you up or maybe knock you down, he will encourage you to keep going or send you off in a whole new direction.
Whatever it might be, his very presence will be what makes it possible. The call comes with a promise of the power to do the work, to take the journey, to receive the healing. Maybe just a little bit at a time. But the power will be there.
I’m reminded of a story that author Michael Perry tells. In his essays, From the Top: Brief Transmissions from the Tent Show Radio, (chapter 45) he talks about getting a chance to play on stage with a future Grammy winning artist. He himself was not a real musician, but he could write a song and he could play a little. That night, he felt unusually confident as he walked on stage and strummed, as he put it, a “hefty open E.” He turned to the band to flash them his assurance that he was ready to lead them wherever they needed to go, only to have that future Grammy winner motion him over in order to let him know, “Hey … plug in your guitar.”
Plug in your guitar. At some level, it’s what all call stories are about. Whether your cord has just come a little loose, like Isaiah’s, or whether you’re plugged into the totally wrong place, like Paul or the fishermen. What God invites and reminds you to do is connect to the source of all things. To stop and take it in, and then follow where it leads you. Even if you never get that grand vision, you can go by feel. Just stop every once in a while, and make sure your guitar’s plugged in, and feel for the next note.
That’s an epiphany too. That’s God made manifest, calling you. Sending you. Going with you, every (perhaps tiny) step of the way. May it be so, Amen.