Call and Response in Field of Dreams

A couple of weeks ago I attended a Synod conference for new (and relatively new) pastors in ministry.  It’s called Pastoral Enrichment for Transitions in Ministry and 10 of us from Kansas and Missouri gathered to support and learn from each other in the next two years.  In one of the small group discussions we were to share the time that we felt the presence of God the most.  My ‘mountaintop’ experience happened at Mo Ranch in Hunt Texas.  I must have been a senior in high school and took a moment after devotions to lie down on my back next to the Guadalupe River and stare at the Hill Country night sky.  In those moments I felt an assurance, a deep comfort that filled every inch of my being, all of my pores.  It was wonderfully comforting and frightening all at once.   I remember not talking to anyone about it because I couldn’t explain it – still can’t really.  What struck me was that I hadn’t thought of this moment for years, although it meant so much to me at the time – primarily because it had gotten washed away by the banality of every day life. 

Some of the most powerful (and humorous) images of call come from the annals of movie making.  In Bruce Almighty, God attempts to contact Bruce through his pager.  Bruce keeps ignoring and ignoring it until he finally throws the pager out the window – where it is promptly run over by a car – and then continues to beep.  Or take the movie Dogma, where an angel of the Lord appears to Bethany.  But this angel appears in the middle of the night in a locked apartment.  Bethany responds to the intrusion with a fire extinguisher and a baseball bat, much to the dismay of said angel. Yet what should we expect from a young woman who hears a stranger in her home?

The imagery and storyline of call develop eloquently in the Kevin Costner movie, Field of Dreams.  In it, Ray Kinsella an inept corn farmer, hears a voice instructing him – If you build it, he will come.  After talking to himself (and the cornfield) and checking at the feed store to see if anyone else is hearing voices, he finally settles into the realization of what he’s experiencing.  He tells his family, facing ridicule from those he loves (what if the Voice calls while you’re gone Ray? Should I take a message?) and financial and social ruin when they decide to follow the voice and plow under one of their fields to make a baseball field.  He journeys across the country, searching out his next task, meeting new people and forging new friendships along the way.  Finally when he believes he’s achieved it all, followed the voice to its fulfillment, it becomes clear that he had misinterpreted all along, “If you build it, HE will come” has an entirely different meaning than Ray (or we) imagined.  Ray finds a fulfillment he didn’t know he needed. 

Although they are slightly different, the call narratives for Isaiah, for the disciples, and for Ray Kinsella give us insight into God’s call and into our response.  God calls us in the ordinary, every day activities of our lives.  Isaiah was in the temple, his place of worship.  Simon Peter, James and John were in their boats, providing for their lives.  Ray was in his corn field.  It seems that often, we overlook this simple little part.  God didn’t call out of any special moment, but speaks to us in the ordinary.  God calls out to us in our worship, in our work, in our play, in our interaction with one another.  I wonder how often it’s the case that “we’ve flattened and homogenized our everyday lives that we no longer expect to see God in the ordinary.”[1]  Isaiah’s story envisions a deeply reformed connection between sacramental worship and the discernment and fulfillment of Christian vocation[2].  They stand hand in hand, as cleansed in the temple Isaiah is sent out to his people.  Sadly, according to the Pew Forum, “many people, including regular church attendees, believe that the last place they might encounter the holy in a dramatic way is at church.”[3]

I think it’s fair to say that most of us are a bit nervous when we begin talking about call, especially if we’re talking about experiencing the presence of God. Like Isaiah and Peter, in the presence of the divine, even the shadow of that presence, we feel our own unworthiness.  Like Ray, we may think we’re crazy – that we’re just talking to the corn field.  We know, deep down, that we are sinful, and belong to a people of unclean lips, that this moment is impossible.  We want to cry out – Go away from me!  We’re frightened of what being in the presence of the holy might mean.  “We harbor a fear that if we lived as God calls it would take our time and our energy.”[4]  As Brent Younger says, “If we do not think we’re afraid of God it may be because we’ve gotten so good at keeping our distance that we’re not even aware of God anymore.  Most days the possibility of God changing us does not enter our minds, but if it did, we would not want it.”[5]  And yet, Isaiah doesn’t heal himself, he doesn’t shake it off, make up his mind and try harder to be a better person, and he is healed by something completely other, by a power beyond himself. Ray finds a comfort, a peace in the voice that his recent life has lacked.   Peter is promised “do not be afraid, we’re in this boat together.”

Sometimes God calls us to do things we do not understand. Jesus instructs Peter to fish – in the deep water, in midday – when Peter knows that it won’t work.   Ray is told to plow under his cash crop, during an already difficult financial time – putting his entire family and livelihood at risk.  Isaiah is told to proclaim the Lord’s word for the sole purpose of stopping up the people’s ears.  “Imagine telling teachers to teach so that the children all fail, try imagining a coach instructing his players on how not to tackle.”[6]

It seems ridiculous, well beyond our imagination and rationalization.  We are called to proclaim a word when we’re not sure we believe in its power. “We ourselves are not free of clogged ears and closed hearts, not ready to heed fully the word’s radical call to freedom.”[7]  We live among a people who want to hate their enemy yet we hold onto the message about loving not just your neighbor but also your enemy.  “We live in a world with wars and rumors of wars, yet we have a Lord who suggested that when we’re weak, we are strong.”[8]  Sometimes we are so afraid of looking foolish that we never fish.  Pushing out into the deep waters is a risk, a leap of faith.

And after our leap, after our experience with the holy, we are changed.  After being cleansed in the temple Isaiah cannot talk about the weather or idle gossip anymore.  The same is true of the disciples after the miracle they witnessed, and of Ray Kinsella once he heard the voice in the corn.  God can show up at any time and we are changed by that presence.  That’s wonderfully comforting and frightening all at once.

At its very core, their call (and our call)  is about a new relationship with God.  It’s about being open to putting God at the center of our lives.  It’s not a one time option; we are constantly taking 1 step forward and 2 steps back. “Discipleship is best understood as the act of teaching and learning, leading and following.”[9]  “God doesn’t simply thunder, God asks, invites, listens, urges, waits and pushes a bit harder.”[10]  The invitation is to new depths of relationship.  The deep water is fraught with fears and requires trust.  We’re like children who start with a toe in the water, and trusting the person with us, before we know it we’re in to our knees and then to our waists.  Then we realize what we’re doing, freak out, and start the process over, each time getting a little deeper and a little more comfortable.  The journey of discipleship is one of being willing to accept God’s invitation over and over.   It is then that our sins are blotted out, it is there where we set aside our nets, leaving everything and follow.  It is then that we become filled in places that we didn’t know were empty, understanding that God’s call is deeper and more powerful that we have ever imagined. 

Yet sometimes, like my moment beside the Guadalupe, we get lost in the trivial moments of life.  We keep finding ourselves adrift looking for what has meaning.  We learn that it is money, possessions and stature we have and peace we lack.  And so we come, here, to listen to these stories of call over and over again as a way to remind us, a way to refocus us.  For in their call is our call, and God’s call. Come and follow.

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[1] Robert J Gench, “5^th Sunday in Ordinary Time”, Lectionary Homiletics (February and March 2010)  pg 8

[2] James Calvin Davis, Pastoral Perspective: Isaiah 6:1-13, Feasting on the Word year C, ed. David L Bartlett and Barbara Brown Taylor (Louisville: Westminster John Knox Press), pg 316.

[3] Bruce Epperly, Theolog: Blogging Toward Sunday: Vocation and Transformation http://theolog.org/2010/02/blogging-toward-sunday-vocation-and.html (February 1, 2010).

[4] Brett Younger, “5^th Sunday in Ordinary Time”, Lectionary Homiletics (February and March 2010)  pg 13.

[5] ibid.

[6] George H Martin Theological Perspective: Isaiah 6:1-13, Feasting on the Word year C, ed. David L Bartlett and Barbara Brown Taylor (Louisville: Westminster John Knox Press),  pg 316.

[7] David L. Ostendorf, Homiletical Perspective: Luke 5:1-11,  Feasting on the Word year C, ed. David L Bartlett and Barbara Brown Taylor (Louisville: Westminster John Knox Press), pg 336.

[8] George H Martin, Pastoral Perspective: Isaiah 6:1-13, Feasting on the Word year C, ed. David L Bartlett and Barbara Brown Taylor (Louisville: Westminster John Knox Press), pg 316

[9] Gay L Byron, Exegetical Perspective: Luke 5:1-11, Feasting on the Word year C, ed. David L Bartlett and Barbara Brown Taylor (Louisville: Westminster John Knox Press), pg 337.

[10] James C Howell, Exegetical Perspective: Isaiah 6:1-13, Feasting on the Word year C, ed. David L Bartlett and Barbara Brown Taylor (Louisville: Westminster John Knox Press), pg 317