Here’s a story you might have heard
before, but I’m sure it’s worth re-telling, especially in a Presbyterian
church. A bishop who was guest of honour at an event in one of the churches of
his diocese found, somewhat to his consternation, that he was being followed
around by a little girl as, sherry in hand, he made his tour of the room. The little girl was the vicar’s six year old
daughter - and every time the bishop looked round, there she was, staring at
him. Wherever he went, there she
followed. He just couldn't shake her
off. Finally, he could take no
more: "Why are you following me
about, little girl?" he asked.
"I'm waiting to see you do your trick," she replied. "What trick?" asked the bishop in
consternation, not being much given to tricks.
"I’m waiting to see you do your trick with the glass," said
the little girl. "I don't do any
tricks with glasses," replied the bishop sternly. "Daddy says you do," replied the
little girl serenely. "Daddy says
you can drink like a fish."
Really, my starting point for today
is that people followed Jesus - and many of them followed him for reasons much
the same as the reason why that little girl was following the bishop. They wanted to see what tricks he was going
to do - for he was, after all, the latest thing, and they wanted to be dazzled
and amazed. And I want to keep that
image in mind as I think this morning about what it means for us as his Church
and as individual Christian people to be followers of Jesus today.
We’ve heard one version of the
story of that remarkable event we call the Transfiguration - and we’ve seen how
three of the disciples were so dazzled and amazed, up there on the mountain,
that for a while none of them really knew much about where they were at all, or
even whether they were waking or sleeping.
Not that they’d gone there with him
expecting any of that. Not everyone was following Jesus just in the hope of
seeing magic tricks and miracles. Peter, James, John and the others were
following Jesus because he had called them. And, I suppose, because something
about the things he said and the things he did burned in their hearts.
Here are four things I want briefly
to say about following Jesus, looking at it from the point of view of, say,
Simon Peter. First: If Jesus called people Simon Peter then he might call
anyone. He doesn’t call people of a
certain grade, with established qualifications, with a certain measured quality
of goodness. Jesus called fishermen (and
tax collectors, and all sorts), not scholars - or at least, not necessarily
scholars. He didn’t look for
book-learning - the one thing he requires
is this: that when he calls, we say yes.
So my second point follows on: all
we need at the outset if we’re to follow Jesus is this - that we have an obedient
faith. Jesus said, "You are my
friends, if you do what I command."
Doing what you’re told to do is the mark of a servant, but Jesus doesn’t
leave us that way. He says very clearly,
"I call you servants no longer. You are my friends."
And that
takes us to my third point: Following Jesus means learning from Jesus and growing
like Jesus. "Are you following
me?" Those are words a teacher may say to her class, or a storyteller to
the people listening. And when Jesus
asks us to follow him, he doesn't mean tag along behind me like so many of the
crowds did, or like that little girl did to the bishop. He means come and learn
from me, follow me as your guide in life; so that, as St Paul wrote, “we have
the mind of Christ”. Let me complete that quote from St John - "I have
called you friends, because I have made known to you everything I learned from
my Father." To learn from a teacher is to grow like that teacher - the
great Christian call and challenge is to imitate, to grow like, to grow close
to, our Lord Jesus Christ.
The fourth thing I’d want to say is
this. It’s a point made by one of the cast in a very moving and challenging play
I went to watch at Marton Village Hall last week, performed by the wonderful
Riding Lights Theatre Company. Jesus
doesn't say to anyone he calls that following him will be a safe thing to
do. Quite the opposite, in fact: it won’t be safe, or easy. It can be tough, and it will be costly. But what
he does say is that it’s going to be worth it. For another thing he says to his
disciples is: "I am the way, the
truth, and the life."
The Church is a community of people
who’ve heard Christ’s call and decided to follow. Its members are people who as
friends of Jesus are pilgrim companions together. Jesus told the disciples that
the world would know the truth of his word when it saw how his friends loved
one another. He laid down his own life for love of his friends, and for love,
even, of those who hammered the nails into his hands and feet. And his one
great commandment is this: love one another, as I have loved you.
So the renewal of our Church in mission
and outreach depends on our obedience to that great command. If we’re to grow
and thrive and make new disciples, we need to be renewed in unity and
fellowship and love. If we don’t notice, encourage, correct and support our
fellow disciples, if we let ourselves be divided so that labels like Anglican
or Methodist or Presbyterian or Catholic mean more to us than the one that says
Jesus, then we fall short of he calls out from us, and we short-change our
witness to the world of his love.
I’m not sure what right I have to say
any of these things. I wouldn’t claim to be a shining example of discipleship. Nor would I dare to speak from any platform of ministerial authority; I stand here with no
authorization other than that of fellow pilgrim. I am amazed to hear Jesus call
me, but he does, just as he calls you. All I can do is to try and follow. And why?
Because in Jesus I see a great man, and a fine teacher, and an example of faith
and service. But not only that; there is more.
And that takes me on to reflect on
just what it was that happened on the Mountain of the Transfiguration, just
what it was that Peter and James and John saw there. Transfiguration means fundamental
change, and we’ve heard how in their eyes Jesus was changed, how his clothes,
his face, became dazzling white. And yet I don’t believe Jesus changed at all.
My take on what happened on that
mountain side is not that Jesus was changed, but that the eyes of his friends were
opened, or maybe their hearts, and just for a moment they were able to see him as
he always is - aflame with the glory of God, shining out with the purity of
God.
For this man is so closely joined
to God, the Son and the Father are so closely one, that all the radiance of
divine glory shines out in that human face. It always does. It did in the
stable at Bethlehem, it did as that man hung broken and dying on the cross. For
the most part its shining was hidden and unseen; but the miracle on the hillside
was not that Jesus suddenly shone so radiantly, but that they just for a moment
were granted leave to see it, to see him as he always is.
For in this man we see all the
radiant glory, all the loving power, all the creative authority of God. So to say yes to his call and to follow him is
to join ourselves in to that closeness to God.
When we are friends of Jesus we can call God ‘Our Father’ and we can
pray to him in a new way, with no need for intermediaries or special ritual,
for priests and temples, but just as ourselves, in perfect confidence and
trust. We can discover the truth of the promise made in Isaiah that God is with
us and will uphold us if we pass through fire or water. Follow me, says Jesus,
join yourselves to me, so that I am the vine and you the branches. Cut off from
me you can do nothing, he tells us. But when we’re joined to him, when we
follow him in faith, we too shall shine, as our lives and the life of our
Church will bear the fruit of his love.
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