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Sunday June 11, 2006 - Trinity Sunday, Year B

It was the year that the king died
when it happened,
and the scene would forever stick
in his memory,
through sometimes he wondered
if it had all been a dream.
It was the temple — he knew it immediately, the place
where he had been
many times to pray,
stone walls and silk and gold hangings familiar to his touch —
but this time, this time
it was different.
This time
there was a throne
right in the middle, way up high
and on it
sat . . .
well, sat someone
who he couldn't even begin to describe. It was beyond words, beyond the power of speech to catch hold of. All he knew
was that it seemed like the clothes of the one in the throne
stretched out until he couldn't tell where they ended
and the temple hangings began.

And all around, flying creatures, wings shining, calling to each other so that the stone walls rumbled and the air filled with smoke.
"Holy, holy, holy is the Lord of hosts;
the whole earth is full of his glory."

Isaiah was terrified. He knew the stories. No one was good anough.
Anyone
who dared look at God
was doomed
to die.

And moaned in terror,
"Woe, woe. I'm going to die."

And suddenly one of the flying creatures
swooped down towards him
carrying a fiery coal from the altar
and he jumped back in fear, certain that this meant death,
but the flying creature
brushed the coal across his lips
and said
"Your guilt is departed, your sin blotted out. You won't die."

And then Isaiah heard a voice, a voice like nothing he'd ever heard before,
deep and rumbling with the life of all creation, he heard the voice say,
"Whom shall I send, and who will go for us?"

And with his heart in his mouth
he lurched forward and gulped
"Uh...here I am, Lord. Send me..."

Th first time I heard that story and really paid attention to it,
was the year before I went to seminary.
I began going to a center city Presbyterian Church
for their lunchtime services each Wednesday — it was close to my office — and eventually got connected with their young adult group and began going Sunday evenings — I was still at my Episcopal church Sunday mornings.
Anyway, the young adult group was in charge of preparing a service one Sunday, and they asked me to preach.
We all worked together on the sermon,
talking about the reading from Isaiah,
thinking about how it related to our lives.
I can't remember
exactly what ended up in the sermon.
All I remember is the title — being a Presbyterian church,
every sermon had to have a title —
the title was "the uncomfortable pew."

You see, for many of us,
church is a place we come for some quiet time with God.
We hope we'll come out
feeling refreshed and renewed.
But for Isaiah, in his equivalent of church — the temple — that day,
refreshed and renewed
is probably not how he would described it.
Terrified
was probably more like it.

I suspect that none of us
has ever walked out of church having had an experience quite like Isaiah's.
But many of us
have heard and responded to God's call. You see, God's call isn't something
that only happens to people in the bible.
God's call is something
that is there for all of us
if only we're willing to listen.

A couple of weeks ago
I received a magazine in the mail
with a picture of a cell phone on the front.
But it wasn't from Verizon or Cingular or Sprint; instead
it came from an organization called the Alban Institute.
They put out a quarterly magazine
to help clergy and leaders in congregations
with ideas for ministry.
On the front cover for Spring
was a picture of a cell phone
and on the caller ID, it said,
"Call from
GOD."

I'm not sure that many of us have received phone calls direct from God.
Or at least, God has never shown up on my caller ID, or not that I've noticed, anyway.

I only know of one person,
or at least, one person who wasn't crazy,
who has heard the voice of God
speaking like a human voice.
It sent him to seminary and to become a priest, and just six or so weeks ago, he became a bishop.

But he's in the minority.
For most of us,
God's call is more ordinary.
It's not about voices in our head or in our ears.
It's not even, for most of us,
about going off to seminary to become a priest.
It's about paying attention to where God has put us
and how we might service God better
in that place.

The traditional word for this call of God
is "vocation."
It comes from the Latin word vocatio, which means literally voice, or a voice calling.
And while we often hear people talking about vocation
meaning a calling to religious work,
the vocation God calls us to can be anything,
anything at all. We might have a vocation, a calling,
to be a teacher, or a parent,
a business person,
a farmer,
a lawyer,
a secretary,
a scientist,
a volunteer.
We can have multiple vocations, sometimes balancing two or more at a time, sometimes seeing our vocation change as we move through life.
For the babies we are baptizing today, their vocation right now
is to be babies. They are called by name
to be followers of Christ.
As they get older, they will be called to be school kids and friends and daughters and sons, and who knows what else? But they will never lose that first call, that call to be Christ's followers, and if they're willing, it will shape all the rest of their calls.

Every time I baptize babies,
whenever I look at the children in our Sunday School,
I hope that one day
one of them
might hear God's calling to ordained ministry.
But even more than that
I hope that they will pay attention
to wherever God is calling them,
and go do it.

Because really, that's what is at the heart of vocation. It's being willing to listen for the call of God
and to act in response.
Sometimes we'll respond enthusiastically — God's call will coincide with the best of our dreams. Sometimes
we'll be afraid. Following God might feel like stepping off a precipice, or taking one step after another into the darkness
not quite knowing
where we are going.
But often
it's more ordinary. It can simply be about choosing
to do what we do
for the sake of God, about looking for ways to serve God
where we already are.

Most times,
God's calling doesn't come from a voice or a cell phone. Instead it comes
from taking time
to explore where God is at work and how we, with our own gifts and talents
might fit in.

Some questions we can ask ourselves are
Where can I see God already working? Where can I see the things God thinks are important showing up?
We can look at the world around us
and see where the things we know that are true about God
show up.
We can look for love, for compassion, for gentleness, for kindness, for justice, for mercy, all those things that the bible talks about as fruits of God's spirit, we can look for these and when we find them, know that God is at work.

And then we can ask ourselves, how can I be part of that work that God is already doing?

We can look for the places where God seems to be absent, and think about
what we could do to bring God's love there.

We can ask ourselves, what am I good at? What gifts has God given me?
And then look for ways to use those gifts.

We can ask, who around me needs to know God's love? And then set about showing that love to them in practical ways.

We can ask, is there something that I am just passionate about, that excites me whenever I think about it? And then work out how that passion
might be a way of serving God.

Those are just some ways
that we can hear, that we can discern God's call to us.
It might not be as dramatic as Isaiah's,
but all of us
are called,
all of us have a vocation.
That's what the church is,
a group of people
who have heard God's call to follow Christ
and who hear God's call
to live that out
in their everyday lives.

Where is God calling you?
And are you willing to join Isaiah and say,
"Here I am Lord. Send me"?

Sermon ©Raewynne J. Whiteley 2005