Is 43:1-7

7 January 2007

Baptism of the Lord

“I Have Called You by Name”

            Last week, I posed the question, “Why do we worship?”  If you recall, my answer had something to do with the picture of a man rising above two cars in a head-on collision.  To the question, “Why worship?” I said, “We have decided not to die.”

            This week, I have a different question:  “Why church?”  Why bother with the church?  It’s not like there aren’t any problems with the church.  Why not just go off and do our own thing?

I don’t think I’ll answer the question, “Why church?”  I think I’ll let God handle this one!  (Very gracious of me, I realize, to make such a gesture!)  The answer seems to be, “I have called you by name, you are mine.”  (That’s actually from verse 1 of our scripture reading in Isaiah 43!)

            That line, “I have called you by name, you are mine,” is one of the most reassuring statements in the entire Bible.  At least, that’s my opinion.  Is there anyone here who prefers to be called, “Hey you!”?  Maybe I’m alone on this, but when I learn someone else’s name, they seem to become more real to me.  And I’m sure it works both ways.  When someone learns my name, I cease being a one-dimensional face in the crowd.

            Another reason why that’s a reassuring declaration is because God claims us.  We haven’t been abandoned.  God’s loyalty to us remains.  And there’s absolutely nothing we can do to change that!  For our part, we can choose to ignore it—and we sometimes do.  But God’s commitment to us is an undying one.

            And fortunately for the Israelites exiled to Babylon, God’s commitment to them is undying—though it doesn’t seem like it at the time.  It’s been noted about our scripture text, “This passage stands between the preceding [one] in which Israel’s failure as a messenger is stated, and the following passage, in which Israel’s vocation [Israel’s calling] as witness is set forth.”[1]

            I find that that’s a position which we as the church often occupy.  We tend to be somewhere between failing as messenger and being sent out again as witnesses.  I seem to remember hearing some wise person say somewhere:  what really matters isn’t how many times we fall, but it’s how many times we get back up.  We always have the chance to be sent out.

            And we are sent out—into a dangerous world.  Though, to be honest, many of the dangers are more imagined than real.  Nonetheless, there’s a strong temptation, which I know all too well myself, to avoid going out on a limb for the Lord.  We’re willing to spend lots of money and travel great distances in pursuit of personal satisfaction.  But do that for Jesus Christ?  Well, that’s another story.

            “I have called you by name.”  Our God doesn’t regard us as pawns on a chess board.  As we see in verse 4, God says that “you are precious in my sight, and honored, and I love you.”  Still, as George Knight has commented, “God does not promise, however, to remove his beloved from a world of floods and diseases and trials and tribulations.  What he does promise is that when Israel [and by extension, when the church] passes through these things, he will walk beside her.”[2]

            There’s a clear reference to verse 2:  “When you pass through the waters, I will be with you; and through the rivers, they shall not overwhelm you; when you walk through fire you shall not be burned, and the flame shall not consume you.”  God is basically saying, “Come hell or high water, I won’t let you go!”

            But it’s even more than that.  There’s a lot of stuff packed into that word “waters.”  Just as Israel passed through the water during the exodus from Egypt, there’s going to be another exodus—this time, from Babylon.

            And there’s something else going on.  For the ancient Israelites, the idea of the “waters”—the depths—inspired in them an almost visceral dread.  It’s like how most of us feel at some point during childhood—the sheer terror at being left in the darkness.  The “waters of chaos” was a horrifying concept.  Knight says, “Israel always sits precariously on the verge of chaos.”[3]  I think that’s something that some, if not all, of us can relate to.  Sitting on the verge of chaos.

            Even if describing our situation in terms like that seems melodramatic, there are people who do live on the verge of chaos.  The promises expressed in our scripture text act as a life preserver.

            It’s noted “how rarely the love of God is spoken of in the Old Testament.  This is because God’s love is not a concept to philosophize upon.  Love is something that happens to those at whom God’s saving activity is directed.”[4]  Love happens.  It’s not some abstract, fuzzy idea that does not and cannot be put into action.

You’ve heard stories about people who love humanity…but can’t stand human beings?  The philosopher Jean-Paul Sartre once famously said, “Hell is other people.”  There have been days when I’d be inclined to agree!  Of course, those are also the days when a visit to the mirror is needed to set me straight!

This seems like a good time to return to the question I asked early on:  why the church?  The church is, after all, other people.  Sometimes we forget who calls us to be with other people as the church.  We forget who issues us our vocation.

Rick Barger is a pastor at Abiding Hope Lutheran Church in Littleton, Colorado.  It’s one of the fastest-growing ELCA congregations in America.  He has written a book called A New and Right Spirit:  Creating an Authentic Church in a Consumer Culture.[5]  In it, he deals with some of these very same things.

“The church is not ours,” he says.  “The church is God’s.  The story is not ours.  The story is God’s.  We are simply stewards of God’s story.  God’s story tells us what God is up to, and God is up to the work of transformation.  Transformation happens in the church, not because we are so smart or good at what we do.  Transformation happens because God is good and is still at work reconciling the world through Christ.  After all, the church’s claim is not ‘He was risen,’ but rather, ‘He is risen!’” (22)

By “consumer culture,” he speaks of the mentality that pervades our thinking in America.  We’re not interested in transformation, which is continuous conversion from the inside out.  We’re only interested in surface-level makeovers.

I’m reminded of a car commercial I saw recently.  It’s by Ford, for their new car, Edge.  While we see the car driving on two wheels on the ledge of a tall building, we hear some guy singing, “I like to live on the edge-uh!”  I suppose the idea they’re trying to express is:  you’re the kind of person who likes living on the edge!  You like to seize life by the throat!  And you know how to do it!  You do it by buying our car!

Barger says that this consumer-driven mentality is alive and well in the church.  It’s the approach that says, “What’s in it for me?”  That approach leads to makeovers, not to transformation.

“Transformation happens when people are so grasped [when they’re so taken] by God’s agenda that they begin to abandon their own needs and agenda…Their experience of transformation restructures their own perceived needs and questions.  They see themselves differently.  They see the world differently.  They see the church differently.

“Instead of existing in relationship to the church as a consumer, they…begin a reordering of their lives, which continues as they are drawn deeper into the richness of the story.  As transformation continues, they see more clearly what the world cannot see, dream what the world cannot dream, and work for what the world cannot work, all because God, through God’s church, has grasped them.” (28)  Talk about seizing life by the throat!  That’s really living on the edge!

So, why church?  Because “I have called you by name.”  Let me ask some questions.  (And by the way, in case you hadn’t already figured this out, I’m someone who likes to ask questions.  Too often, we in the church provide answers to questions that no one cares about!  It’s important to hone your question-asking skills!)

“I have called you by name.”  What does that say about God?  What does that say about us?  What does that say about the relationship God has, and wants to more fully develop, with us?  What does continuing transformation say about that?  Let me attempt an answer.

Surely one thing it means is that God wants an authentic relationship with us.  God isn’t pleased with the one-dimensional, face-in-the-crowd affiliation that so often satisfies us.  Contrary to what some of us may be tempted to think at times, God doesn’t subscribe to the notion that hell is other people.  This may come as a shock to you, but there are congregations who believe that hell is other people!  Such groups of Christians are not exactly what could be called “vital” or “vibrant”!

Our friend Rick Barger speaks of “vital congregations” as “congregations that are alive.  They get their life, not from their latest strategies, but from their stubborn refusal to play on Astroturf.  They are solidly anchored and get their life from the rich soil of the church’s ancient and authentic story.  These vital congregations exist in virtually every setting, come in all sizes, and do not belong to just one way of being the church.” (34)

As we begin this new year in a new place with new opportunities, we’re beginning a journey into transformation where we will experience the vitality of authentic community.  We need to dig deep into our relationship with God, and examine what we’re being called to in our faith journey.

            I’ll continue with Barger’s metaphor about churches that refuse “to play on Astroturf.”  (Which, I add, is an obsolete substance; stadiums are turning to synthetic grass.)  Anyway, the point is that artificial playing fields cover up the earth beneath.  They aren’t authentic.

            What about us?  Do we get our life from “the rich soil of the church’s ancient and authentic story”?  Is our journey authentic?  Is it genuine?  Is it faithful?

            God says, “I have called you by name, you are mine.”  That’s a pretty all-encompassing claim!  Do we yield to that claim?  Do we accept it?  If so, then we have to realize that this thing called “church” isn’t a spectator sport.  We’re called to get into the game.  Our abilities differ, but we’re all called to take part.

            And while I don’t speak very often on this subject, money is important.  What we give in the offering is part of worship.  It is worship.  Like it or not, as much as our time and effort and prayer—I hope you’re hearing me as I go through this list—the church needs our money.  To answer the question, “Why church?” we have to consider all those things.  Only God knows if we’re doing what we can.

I want to conclude with one last quote from Rick Barger.  He’s speaking about vital congregations:

“There is the clear sense that the people gathered are caught up in something that matters, and whatever it is that matters has found great traction in their lives.  These congregations are real, yet imaginative.  They are not afraid to address the depths of the human condition and enter into the darkest arenas of human pain and suffering.

“At the same time, these congregations seem to exhibit unshakable hopefulness, thankfulness, and joy about life itself and the future.  These congregations know how to cry together and laugh together.” (34-5)  And I would like to add:  to be crazy together.

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