STOP. LOOK. LISTEN.
August 31, 2008
Exodus 3:1-15
II Peter 1:3-11
People come to Iowa City for all sorts of reasons. Each year, however, thousands come here to study and to seriously explore who they are and what they will do with their lives. They arrive to grow in wisdom.
Real wisdom consists of two parts, John Calvin once wrote—the knowledge of God and the knowledge of ourselves. And it's a “chicken and egg” kind of thing (although Calvin didn’t use those words) it’s hard to tell which comes first.
The knowledge of ourselves and our limits leads us to seek for God. And the knowledge of God helps us to know ourselves better.
I would hope that those of us who were here when the students arrived continue to grow in that same wisdom. We can continue to think about who we are, what we do, and what God might have to do with all of this. We can continue to think about our calling, our vocation.
In the stories of call that we hear in the Bible, like the story of the call of Moses that we heard this morning, the human and the divine meet in a way that tells us something about both God and ourselves. As we listen to those stories we can discover once more the ways in which the human and the divine continue to meet in our own lives.
God calls each one of us.
In recent years the United Church of Christ has made much of the idea that God is still speaking. And in doing so, our faith tradition gives us a message quite different from the one we usually hear.
Most of the messages that we hear—and they come to us loud and clear—tell us that we live an uncalled life:
That there will be no intrusions into our ordinary lives by the Holy.
That we can go on our way, doing as we please and God will not disrupt us.
That in times of despair or weakness or indecision we are on our own.
Remember the title of the James Baldwin book? Nobody Knows My Name. In a world in which we are more and more anonymous, more and more a number, many worry that he was right.
Look at Moses, tending the sheep of his father-in-law. He has fled from Egypt, where he is a wanted man. He is hiding out in Midian. Perhaps he even hopes that nobody knows his name.
Out in the country railroad crossings often don't have lights or bells or gates. But the signs command: "STOP, LOOK, LISTEN." These are signals to be alert, to use your senses and in doing so to avoid a train barreling down toward you.
Moses stops and looks. A bush stands before him, burning but not consumed. A neat trick. Enough of an attention grabber to stir Moses so that he also listens.
The voice he hears, while perhaps unfamiliar to him, was known to his ancestors, to Abraham and Sarah, to Isaac and Rebekah. They knew it as the voice of promise, the voice of life.
The voice calls, “Moses, Moses.”
Stop.
Look.
Listen.
God speaks first. And calls us by name.
There is good news here.
In spite of the great loneliness that so many people feel,
in spite of the crushing isolation of contemporary life,
Someone does know your name—and calls to you.
Certainly we listen with a very human ear. What we hear is often faint or garbled.
Still, when we stop to listen with the ear of faith, we can hear the divine voice. God calls each one of us.
We are called to a new way of life.
The Second Letter of Peter speaks of the God who called us, as the Revised Standard Version translation puts it: “to God’s own glory and excellence.” That is a high calling, indeed. I know enough of myself to know that my own glory and excellence are exceedingly limited—and yours as well.
And that’s all right. Whether it’s Moses the fugitive or me or you, God generally chooses to associate with the wrong kind of people. Remember that when Jesus went to dinner, he chose to eat with tax collectors and other sinners. “I came not to call the righteous,” Jesus would say to his critics, “but to call the sinners”—that’s all of us, you know—those who are separated from God, from one another, even from the best in ourselves.
Christianity is not for those who have it made, who are confident in their own goodness and feel that they are getting better all the time. God's passion instead seems to be for those who know their sin.
This is why God loves us as we are. And because God loves us as we are, God does not leave us as we are. Anne Lamott put it this way: “I have a relationship with a God who is so tender and so willing to keep letting me start over. I can’t blow it so badly that God doesn’t still love me.”[1]
God's desire is that we be fruitful and effective people,
not oppressed by our sufferings,
not hampered by our failings,
not paralyzed by our regrets.
The early Christians were reminded in the words we heard this morning: “Be zealous to confirm your call.” Show that God has called you by your faith, virtue, knowledge, self-control, mutual affection, and love.
Yes, it does matter. It does matter, after all, how we live in the world, how we live with one another. How we use our money matters. How we care for the earth matters.
It is the God of passion who calls us, comes to us, that we might live fully.
The God who calls is a passionate God. God loves with the passion a parent has for a child, with the passion a lover has for the beloved.
“I have seen the afflictions of my people. . .”
“I have heard their cry . . .”
“I know their sufferings . . .”
This is not One who stands off, unmoved by the human condition. This is a Creator who is vitally interested in the creature. This is a God who, out of deep compassion, calls us to lives that are fruitful and effective. This is a God who wants the best—who wants glory and excellence.
“I have come down,” God tells Moses. “I have come down to deliver [my people]. . . to bring them to . . . a good land.”
It is hard for us in the church to hear of God's saving action toward the Hebrew people and not think of God's “coming down,” God's incarnation in Jesus. For it is in Jesus that we see most clearly the intimate connection that God has with human beings. It is in Jesus that we see the glory and excellence to which we are called.
We are called—we are constantly called—to a new way of life.
God is still speaking. So listen once more. God's action in the world depends on us.
Moses stands listening and hears the voice of God: “Come, I will send you to Pharaoh that you may bring forth my people.”
At this point Moses might feel like he's stuck on the tracks with the train coming right toward him.
Remember the story of Moses. Before he stopped in front of that burning bush, he had rescued a Hebrew slave from an Egyptian. The trajectory of his life was in the direction of freedom. God's call pulled him forward.
You see, God calls each one of us—not simply to some particular form of employment but to a way of life. This is a way of life suited to who you are, because above all, it is a call to be yourself, the unique individual created in God's image that you are.
God calls out the best in us. And that gives us some idea of what the church is about—a community of people calling out the best in each other, a community of people supporting each other to live lives of faith, virtue, knowledge, mutual affection, and love.
It's not just the old chestnut that we are the hands and feet of God, acting out some purpose whether we like it or not. God's purposes are fulfilled as each one of us fully lives out who we are. We are co-creators, working with God to create the good.
God needs us in order to act in the world.
Of course, when Moses understands that God's involvement means his involvement,
when Moses catches on that God's call is a demand on his life
Real dialogue begins. This is where it begins for us as well.
The resolve of God to transform a situation meets with human resistance.
Moses hears of God's plan—I will send you—and begins to see all of the holes in it. Moses asks:
Who am I to go to Pharaoh?
What shall I say when they ask your name?
Suppose they don't listen.
And really, he concludes, I'm not much of a speaker.
What was the name of the play? Your Arms Are Too Short to Box with God. Probably so. But from Abraham on, the Old Testament tells of faithful leaders arguing with God—and sometimes even winning. You get the sense that God actually enjoys it. Enjoys hearing our doubts, our misgivings, our frustrations with and anger toward the Almighty. At least then the relationship seems real.
And so it continues. Indeed to this day we confess: “You call, but we don't listen.”
Ultimately all of our arguments begin to collapse. Not because God is a better debater, or because God does indeed have longer arms, but because God promises: “I will be with you.” I will be with you as you live out your calling. I will be with you as you become whom you are called to be.
Oh.
Well, if that's the case,
there is strength where we are weak,
there is courage where we are fearful,
there is love where we would hate.
Together with Moses we hear the strange, puzzling name of the God who calls us by name.
I AM WHO I AM.
I WILL BE WHO I WILL BE.
This is the God of infinite possibilities who calls us into life filled with options and opportunity.
The name of God is important, and yet, as one person put it: “God doesn't so much care what we call him--doesn't so much care what we call her—as long as the lines of communication are kept open.”
As we enter into dialogue with this God—as we argue and protest and listen—we will gain the wisdom of who we are and who God is.
The God who calls desires that we answer, that we in turn speak with the honesty with which we have been addressed.
So, stop, look, listen. The voice that calls usually speaks softly these days, inviting us to join in the conversation, inviting us to follow on the way that leads to life, on the way that is life.
Stop. Look. Listen.
The very ground we stand on is holy. We are invited into a conversation with our Creator. We grow in the knowledge of ourselves and the knowledge of God that is true wisdom we have come here seeking.