Here I come, ready or not!
I have an acquaintance I’ll call “Vic” for convenience. Vic has spent his life putting things off, not getting things done, because he’s “not ready.”
Vic writes and sings songs, but few have ever heard his music. His friends have encouraged him to put it out there, to go play for tips at a local establishment to see if others like his music. He could use the money. “Yes, yes, good idea,” he’ll say, “but first I have to put together a play list and practice.” But that never seems to get done and so putting his music out there has never happened.
Vic inherited his mother’s belongings, including some artworks that might be worth something, and Vic could sure use the money. His small apartment is full of stuff, reduced to walking paths due to all the stuff, but if you ask if he has explored avenues for selling the art or any of the stuff, he says he has to “get organized” first.
I don’t know exactly what “getting organized” involves for Vic. I just know that he has never “gotten organized” enough to actually DO any of the things he says he wants to do. Vic always seems to put a barrier between himself and taking action, a barrier substantial enough to prevent him from ever getting to the action stage. And then the barrier becomes the excuse for not having acted.
With Vic, the inability to act, the forever not being “ready,” is at the level of illness, mental illness. But most of us, at one or many times, have used “not ready,” “not able,” or “I have to do such and such first,” as an excuse to not do something. Maybe we’re afraid of trying something new, afraid of failing, afraid of embarrassing ourselves, or maybe we just don’t want to do something we’re being called upon to do.
Here's an example. I’m a writer. Or, at least I say I want to write. I don’t particularly like the process of writing; writing is hard. But when I’ve written something that turns out to be kind of good, I definitely like having written!
But I haven’t written much and for years my excuse was “too busy, I just can’t seem to find time to write.” Then along came the pandemic and I was stuck at home with time on my hands. Did I write? Nope! So at that point I had to give up the excuse of “no time” and figure out the real reason I wasn’t writing.
All of this is true of much more mundane things as well, and I think especially when it comes to serving God and the church. How often have you heard, Oh, I can’t serve on the vestry or the altar guild. I can’t lead Morning Prayer. I don’t know enough, I have no credentials to do that, I’m afraid to stand up in front of people. On and on our excuses go.
It takes courage to put yourself out there, whether it be in something like music or art or writing, or something more every day, like standing up in front of the congregation, or even loving your neighbor, whom you don’t even like!
There is always the risk of failure. Maybe people won’t like what we produce. Our attempt to love our neighbor might be rejected. So it takes courage.
In today’s Gospel lesson, Jesus sends out the disciples. Ho hum, right? I mean, of course Jesus sends out the disciples. He does it a couple of times, so what’s the big deal?
I want you to think about the timing here for a minute. This particular sending out happens in the midst of Jesus’ ministry. They’ve been hanging out with Jesus now for awhile, but… they have not yet experienced the Lord’s supper. Peter has not yet declared, “You are the Messiah.”
They’ve been listening to Jesus teach and preach for some months, but clearly they still often do not understand what he is talking about. They have not received the Holy Spirit. They did not have the New Testament to help!
And who are the disciples in the first place? Well, one of them was a tax collector. He might have had some education, but would have been an outcast among his own people. Several of them were fishermen, among the least educated of the population.
In sum, they are rank amateurs in the evangelism business. They have little relevant education and have experienced none of the aspects of the Christ story that we know so well and take for granted that most people know. But Jesus sends, and they go.
Paul gives us a clue as to how it works in the passage we read from Corinthians this morning. He has learned through prayer that God’s power is made perfect in human weakness.
"My grace is sufficient for you, for power is made perfect in weakness," God said to Paul. And so now Paul is content with his weaknesses, and whatever people who reject his message throw at him. Moments of human weakness are opportunities for us to experience God’s power, for God’s grace is sufficient.
The philosopher Soren Kierkegaard addressed this issue of daring to put yourself out there knowing that your effort might be rejected. He put his conclusion this way: Trusting to God I have dared, but I was not successful; in that is to be found peace, calm and confidence in God. I have not dared: that is a woeful thought, a torment in eternity.
I am the kind of teacher who always dared my students to dare. A number of years ago, as she was graduating, one of those students—an honors student who completed a daring honors thesis, gifted me with a framed poem by Peter McWilliams. I do not remember the whole thing, but here’s part of it:
Come to the edge, [the
teacher] said.
[The students] said, We are afraid.
Come to the edge, he said.
They came.
He pushed them…
And they flew.
The punch line of this homily is this: God does not send the prepared. God prepares the sent. You’ve probably heard that before. I didn’t write it and I don’t remember where I heard it. But I remind myself of it often.
God does not send the prepared. God prepares the sent.
In the name of God, Father, Son and Holy Spirit. AMEN.
Christ Episcopal Church,
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