Taking the Plunge

A Sermon on Jeremiah 1:4-10

 Over the past several weeks we have been examining the question, “How well do we know ourselves?” That question is important on so many levels, not the least of which is the spiritual level, for we must be in touch with our own identity if we are to answer the most important question in daily life, “Where is God in this [experience] for me?”

 In our lesson this morning from Jeremiah, we see the typical response to a call from God. God comes to Jeremiah and tells him that he will become a prophet. Jeremiah, like every prophet, is only too ready to tell God why God has made a terrible mistake in choosing him. Jeremiah responds by saying he is only a boy, and besides, he doesn’t speak very well. Does that sound familiar? Remember when God approached Moses and told him to go to Pharaoh? Moses’ response was that he wasn’t very articulate, so God sent Aaron with Moses to speak on his behalf. We always have an excuse when we realize God is calling us to act, always have a reason why there are much better choices out there who would do what God needs done so much better than we can. Part of us seems to wonder aloud how God could possibly be so foolish as to ask us to accomplish anything!

 I certainly have my own version of this experience. When I was 23 years old I began to sense God calling me into ordained ministry. To fully understand how strange this was to me you have to know that I was raised a Green Bay Packer Congregationalist. That means that my brother and I were dropped off at the eleven o’clock worship service on an occasional basis. If it happened that the Packers’ game started at noon, one of my parents would pick us up during the first commercial break after kick off. If the Packers didn’t play until three o’clock, my parent might have accompanied us to church, hangover permitting. The mixed message this implanted in my young mind regarding religion was only intensified by the fact that the key to acceptance by the young people in this church was participation in the church youth group summer camping trip. It seemed that on the rare occasion when we did show up at Sunday school, all I heard about was that camping trip. Since my idea of “roughing it” is a two star hotel, you can imagine my feelings about that camping trip and how thrilled I was to be hearing about it all the time!

 Some of this negativity was offset by some very positive experiences in Theology classes during the two years I had spent at Marquette University after High School.  In fact, when I dropped out I left because the only classes which I found had meaning were the Philosophy and Theology classes, and I couldn’t imagine what one would do with those subjects in terms of a vocation! By the time I started to hear the call of God I had more reasons to not do it that to do it. I didn’t have a church home, in fact I was embroiled in the obligatory twenty-something church search. I had become a successful professional, working as a field service engineer in the medical field. I was making good money, and I was in a profession that had irregular hours. Returning to school was problematic at best. I put the issue out of my mind.

 Jeremiah learned, as I did, that God is persistent. I have no doubt that the story of Jeremiah’s assent to God’s call took a bit longer than the few verses allotted to it in scripture, but assent he did. Jeremiah learned, as everyone who is legitimately called by God learns, that God does not go away just because we think we are less than up to the task. One of the things I have learned as a Bishop who works with folk who believe they are called to ordained ministry is that everyone who is legitimately called by God runs from that call initially. The second, equally important, lesson is that if a call is from God it does not go away just because we avoid the call. In the end, Jeremiah follows the call of God and engages in a difficult, but essential, prophetic ministry to the exiled Jewish people.

 As I reflected on this story I was reminded of my experiences as a child in swimming lessons. My mother was terrified of water, not doubt at least partly because she never learned to swim. She was determined that my brother and I would learn to swim, but that determination must have generated a great deal of ambivalence in her. I was well into elementary school before I was enrolled in my first swimming lessons. I remember those lessons at Milwaukee Lutheran High School, and I remember that I was very confused because my mother sat on the side of the pool and cried through every lesson. In retrospect, I think she projected her own fear of the water onto me and was sure that I would drown. So traumatic was the experience, that she has told my daughter that I never took swimming lessons and would “sink like a rock” if I were to enter water today. In any event, I made it through the lessons and thought that my time shriveling in a cold swimming pool was over only to discover that my parents had joined Tuckaway Country Club and that I would be enrolled in more swimming lessons there!

 It was at Tuckaway that I learned that there were benefits to having started swimming lessons later than most of my much younger fellow students – not the least of which was that at twelve years old I had a much more profound appreciation of the very attractive college student named Teri who taught my class! That notwithstanding, I was horrified when I learned that the graduation requirement of this particular class was that I jump off the high dive! My own knowledge that my swimming ability was of less than Olympic proportions, coupled with an intense fear of heights, afforded a level of fear that could not be overcome by the knowledge that Teri was waiting in the water for me!

 Each step up that ladder was more terrifying that the previous step had been. As I moved out onto the board beyond the handrails, each step brought more spring from the board and caused my fear to intensify. Somewhere along the way I had learned that a swimmer never jumps off a diving board without wrapping their toes over the edge of the board. Of course, that required moving to the very edge of the board and standing on the least stable part of the board! I wanted to be sick! I wanted to climb back down, but that would have involved turning around on a diving board that now seemed about three inches wide. I wanted to climb back down the ladder, but that would have meant walking back across the board, turning around yet again over the hard concrete surface of the deck of the pool, extending my foot over the edge onto the ladder and looking down. That option was out of the question. At that point I considered that I could just remain on top of the board forever. Perhaps someone could bring up some food. When reality set in I realized that sooner or later I would need to use the restroom and that could not be accomplished on the diving board without great humiliation. If I was going to get down, I was going to have to leap.

 My point in sharing that story is that the decision to follow the call of God is very much like jumping off the high dive. Our biggest barrier to success is fear – not fear that we might fail, but rather fear that we might succeed! If that sounds improbable, bear with me while we explore that notion.

 To a certain extent, failure at a task – particularly a task which we don’t believe we are capable of anyway – is not a particularly threatening notion. How many of us, if asked to run a four minute mile, would be afraid to fail? We would be aware going in that only the very exceptional athlete can accomplish this task, so we would be free to try it and fail without any grave impact on our self image. The call of God, however, almost always asks us to make a change in our identity.

 Before you respond too quickly that you aren’t afraid of identity change, I would like to offer an exercise to test that thought. I would like to offer you a fairly large cross pendant that would be at least three inches high. Then I will loan you a very large Bible, something about the size of the average family Bible designed to be displayed on a coffee table in your home. Finally, I will loan you a habit rosary – one of those very large rosaries that monks and nuns wear suspended from the belts of their habits. I would like you to put the cross around your neck, suspend the rosary from your belt (if you don’t wear a belt, it can go around your neck as well), and go read that Bible during the morning rush at Starbucks, during the mid-morning hours on a bench in the park, during the noon rush at McDonald’s, during the afternoon in the public library, and in the evening in a local tavern. If asked why you are doing these things, you must reply loudly, “I am doing this for the conversion of sinners.” If you do this very well, you will be required to do it on a daily basis for at least six months.

 I suspect there will be an acute shortage of volunteers! As an aside, Jeremiah was eventually assigned by God the task of camping naked against the Jerusalem city wall. I do not believe it was a Congregationalist camping trip, but the possibility has crossed my mind!

 Certainly, the example is absurd…or is it? When God calls us, it is always a call to change – after all, if God wanted us just where we were there would be no need for God to call us at all! God calls us to experiences of growth, to experiences that stretch us and prepare us for new challenges. Most of us, however, are quite comfortable in our un-stretched state. We know who we are, we rather like our identities, and if we actually succeeded in following that call to growth and change would have to occupy a new identity. That notion is absolutely terrifying for us!

 Like the neophyte swimmer on the edge of the high diving board, we do whatever we can to avoid taking the plunge. We seek to build a shelter on that board, to preserve our identities even though they don’t fit very well anymore. We prefer the security of who we think we are to the reality of who God sees us to be! We say, “Oh, I couldn’t possibly do that,” and fail to acknowledge that the only path to the fullness of life that Jesus came to give is to take the plunge!

 What’s holding you back?