Sunday, September 15, 2024
Being with Jesus
Matthew 4:12-22 & Matthew 8:18-22
Rev. Dr. Troy Hauser Brydon

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This fall we have the opportunity to engage deeply together in these stories about Jesus, what we call the gospels. We’ve asked — and over 300 of you have responded — that you spend time in these stories throughout the week, each of us walking together a couple of chapters at a time, spending some time in deeper reflection and prayer over what we’ve encountered, letting the Spirit speak into our spirits, letting questions bubble up and challenge us, allowing the stories of Jesus to become more a part of our lives and in that giving Jesus space in our lives. That by itself will bear fruit in your life, but here’s the bonus — on Sundays, we will turn back to a couple of the passages that you already spent time in that week and focus on a theme that further unfolds who Jesus is to us and what that means for us. 

I have no doubt that each of us is coming to this from a different place. Some are excited. Some are apprehensive. Some feel like they are feeling their way through the darkness. It’s all good. As I said last week, the only wrong way to do this is NOT to do this. So, come. With your questions. With your answers. With your hope and confusion and worry and confidence. God is faithful and will meet you. I promise. 

The theme today is discipleship. What does it mean to be a student, an apprentice of Jesus? All fall we’re going to see the first disciples get it right, get it terribly wrong, get confused, get excited, and so much more. So, keep your eyes on how these first students of Jesus experienced him. I think you’ll find some of yourself in them. They are imperfect. They are surprising. And yet we continue to be a church today because of how they responded to following Jesus. 

Today I’m especially focused on how people initially respond to what Jesus is doing. Matthew’s gospel starts with the birth of Jesus, the visit of the Magi, the escape from Herod, the ministry of John the Baptist, Jesus’ baptism, and Jesus’ wilderness test from the devil. John’s message was clear, “Repent, for the kingdom of heaven has come near” (3:2). But to our ears that sounds super-churchy, and so what John says loses our attention. We don’t repent anywhere but church. We don’t have kings. We’re on earth not heaven. When that happens, sometimes we need to find a new way to hear it. A fellow Presbyterian named Eugene Peterson translated the Bible in a fresh way called The Message. It’s far from perfect, but what I love about it is that it causes me to pay attention in a new way to things that have become too churchy to my ears. 

Here’s how Peterson renders John’s message: “Change your life. God’s kingdom is here.” Now, that is clear. It’s not squishy. It’s direct. John is proclaiming that the place where God rules is here. It is a present reality. It’s not merely in heaven — some place far off. It’s not sitting things out for the future. It’s now. It’s here. 

How, then, should you respond to this reality? Change your life. Simple, right? We all are super ready to flip our lives on their head. Flexible and all that. If I’ve learned anything in life, it’s that people are super flexible and love to change…

That’s John’s message, but here’s what’s interesting. John is preparing the way for Jesus. But, did you notice the words Jesus uses to begin his ministry? He heads to the seaside town of Capernaum, a town sitting on a major Roman road, which meant lots of people from all over the Roman Empire would be passing through, and Jesus says the same thing. 

Change your life. God’s kingdom is here. 

Now, imagine with me that this happened last Wednesday right here. You were doing what you do on a Wednesday. Maybe you’re having coffee with friends. Maybe you’re in your classroom teaching. Maybe you’re talking to your mom on the phone. Whatever it is your doing, it’s just a normal day. Then, a guy you don’t know comes walking along, looks right at you, and says, “Change your life. God’s kingdom is here.” And then he pauses, looking you right in the eye, and waits. 

What would you do? My guess is you’d sit there uncomfortably and wait for him to leave and then you’d turn to your friends or students or mom and say, “Well, that was weird,” and then you’d carry on. 

But Jesus does just that to Peter and Andrew. They’re at work fishing. This is what they did. Then Jesus comes along and disrupts their entire lives. Jesus invites them to join them, promising that they’ll become “fishers of people.” They drop there nets and go with Jesus. 

Next Jesus sees another set of brothers, James and John. He does the same thing to them in front of their father. And they respond the same way. They go with Jesus, leaving behind the boats, the nets, and even their father. 

Their willingness to do this has inspired and troubled me over the years. I mean, how amazing that people respond so fully to Jesus. But, I mean, c’mon. Who does that? Even if you’re sold on Jesus, wouldn’t you take the time to sell your business, say goodbye to those you love, and at least have a little sense of what you were signing up for? 

There is an urgency in responding to Jesus. That’s what this story is telling us. Jesus calls. They respond without saying a word. They just go. Through the years I’ve been inspired by their immediate action. It’s amazing. But I’ve also been troubled by it. Who does that? Is Jesus expecting that everyone does the same? 

For years I’ve lamented that I am a slow reactor. Ages ago when I was a lifeguard, I was out for breakfast with two friends who were also lifeguards. While we were eating, someone near us began choking. No hesitation, my lifeguard friends sprung into action, performing the Heimlich maneuver on this person, dislodging the offending food, and sending it flying across the Eat’n’Park dining room. 

While this was happening, here’s what going on in my head. These pancakes are pretty good. Where did Joel and Shaun go? Oh, they’re over there. Why are they hugging that person? Oh, he must be choking. Maybe I should see if they need help. Or maybe they’ve got in under control. Oh, they do. I see food flying across the room. Good for them. 

I am slow to respond. Maybe I was a sloth in a previous life. (Just kidding. I don’t believe in reincarnation.) 

I used to worry that Jesus required an immediate, all-in response to discipleship. But I don’t think that’s what he expects from all of us, and I don’t think that’s what Matthew is trying to say to us. Rather, Peter and Andrew, James and John leave their old lives behind because they recognize that there is a life-changing importance to Jesus. Change your life. God’s kingdom is here. It is urgent because it is important. Sure, dropping everything to follow Jesus is the best decision you’ll ever make in your life, but all of us are different in how we respond. 

Not everyone is ready immediately. The second story we shared today reflects that. Two people come up to Jesus because they want to follow him. One offers, “I’ll go with you wherever,” and Jesus sees he’s not ready. The second asks for a couple of days to get his things in order, and Jesus also pushes back against him. Until you recognize the importance, God’s reign will be close at hand but not a life-changing reality for you. 

Nestled between Matthew 4 and 8 are perhaps the most important words ever spoken and recorded — the Sermon on the Mount. I love these words. I am challenged by them. As I look at all the pain, hurt, and worry around me, I wish that more people knew this Jesus and his life-altering ways. 

But as I thought on these discipleship passages and thought about the Sermon on the Mount right between them, it struck me that Jesus’ disciples are hearing his words but haven’t fully arrived yet. They are in process. There is so much richness to this sermon, but there would be no need to say these things if everyone got it. Going back to Peterson’s translation, I think I can capture this in one verse, “In a word, what I’m saying is, Grow up. You’re kingdom subjects. Now live like it. Live out your God-created identity. Live generously and graciously toward others, the way God lives toward you” (5:48).

Discipleship is a learning process, but one that requires devotion. An apprentice electrician actually works with their master electrician to learn how to properly wire a house. They don’t get the apprenticeship and sit at home doing nothing, expecting that just because they now know a master electrician they will also become one. No, they learn and act, learn and act. 

So, too, disciples of Jesus. We grow up into his likeness, which takes intentionality over time. It takes time to grow up, doesn’t it? In our exasperation as parents, we have all said “Oh, grow up” to our children, yet we know that growing up takes time, takes learning, takes failing, and so much more. So, too, discipleship. 

For the past year or so I’ve been thinking about discipleship as it relates to three b-words. (I need a catchier title for this, so if you have one, let me know!) Discipleship is made up of believing, belonging, and becoming. I think the response of Peter, Andrew, James, and John relates well to believing. They saw Jesus and believed who he was. Belief (and the way that faith moves into understanding) is part of being a disciple, part of a changed life. 

So, too, belonging. A disciple belongs to Jesus. A disciple also belongs to others in the community. That is, we belong to each other and look out for each other. (This is something that many in this church do well.) 

But disciples also grow up. We become more like Jesus because we are learning from him how to live our lives. We do this because we love Jesus. We do this because we love others. We do this because we love our neighbors as we love ourselves (more of the Sermon on the Mount there). 

Jesus starts his ministry by saying, “Change your life.” Why? “God’s kingdom is here.” Who are you becoming? Does it look today a little more like Jesus than it did the day before? We have the gift from God of becoming, day-by-day, the loving presence of Jesus in the world. I can think of nothing better to be. I can think of nothing the world needs more.