The Making of An Apostle

Montgomery Alabama. December 1, 1955 early evening. A woman in her mid-forties boards a bus. She carries herself in a dignified manner. You would not know from looking at her that she has been stooped over an ironing board all day. Her shoulders ache and her feet are swollen. She tasks a seat on the bus.

As the bus moves through the streets of Montgomery, Alabama, it fills with people on their way home from work. After a few stops, the driver turns to look at the woman. He tells her that she needs to move so that a white person can take her seat.

With one word, Rosa Parks changes the course of American history. Just one word, spoken quietly. She just said,

"No."

When the policeman came to arrest her, she told him that this did not make sense, that it wasn't fair. He told her that he agreed, it wasn't fair, but it was the law.

Later that evening, thousands of people would gather at a Baptist Church in a poor section of Montgomery. At that church, Dr. King would say, "There comes a time when people get tired of being trampled over by the iron feet of oppression."

There comes a time in the life of a person.


Two thousand years ago, one hundred and twenty people met together in a room. They all had known and loved Jesus and he was gone. After appearing to them in joyful encounters, he had been lifted out of their very sight. And they had no idea what they were to do next.

Peter addressed the group. "Jesus chose twelve of us but now there are only eleven. Judas Iscariot has left us for good. We must fill his seat at the table, so that there are twelve once more." The number twelve was sacred. There were twelve tribes of Israel. So there must be twelve to continue Jesus' work in the world.

Peter says, "We have discussed this matter and identified two men who could fill this seat. One is Joseph or Barsabas, sometimes called Justus, and the other is Matthias."

I can just picture Matthias, standing there in the middle of the crowd, thinking, "Who, me?

What about that guy over there?

I didn't know Jesus well enough.

I am not ready.

This could be a lot of work.

Where is the door?

There comes a time in the life of a human being...when God asks you to do something, to serve. And you must decide if you are going to step up to the plate.

The name Matthias is the same word as disciple in the ancient Greek. A disciple is literally one who learns, one who sits at the feet of a master and absorbs. An apprentice.

I believe that there are three basic stages in the life of a Christian. The first is baptism, when God opens the kingdom of God to us and our resurrection life begins. Though God welcomes us, we must spend a lifetime saying yes to that invitation.

The second stage is that of this disciple. When we realize that we want to devote the time and energy to learn about Jesus, to try to imitate him. So we attend worship, we study and read. In order for the discipleship stage to be complete, we must also join a small group of fellow believers, where we can honestly speak about our joys and sorrows.

Then, at some point, God will invite us into the third and final stage of the life of faith. This is the life of the apostle. The word apostle means one who is sent. The twelve were called disciples during Jesus' life on earth, but after his resurrection and ascension, they became known as apostles. Because God said, "Time's up. It's your turn. I need you to do my work in the world."

The invitation that the spirit makes for a person to become an apostle happens completely individually and often unexpectedly. Rosa Parks had no idea that she was to start a Civil Rights movement that would rage to the Supreme Court itself. Matthias had no idea he would take his place at the table. They were just being faithful when the moment came. It was just their time.

So we must study, pray, worship, give and watch for the moments when something is asked of us, when we are sent.

Helen was born and raised in Germany. At the age of 23, she fell madly on love with an American graduate student. When he asked her the marry him, she was thrilled. Then they moved to Cincinnati, Ohio.

At 23, Helen was living in a foreign country with a man who she did not know so well. Soon, she was pregnant with their first child. A baby girl, she was born healthy and extremely demanding. Helen felt both exhausted and alone.

As a baptized Christian, Helen knew enough to find a church. She loved that place. People held her baby and asked her how she was doing. She felt loved.

There was an apostle at that church. Her name was Sarah. Every week, she was sent by God not very far away, to the nursing home near the church. There she brought communion to people who were to frail to come to church.

At the nursing home, Sarah met Brigette. Brigette was an elderly widow. She had recently lost her husband. They had been married for over fifty years. After his death, Bridgette stopped speaking. The staff was at a loss and asked Sarah to pray for her. They happened to mention that Bridgette was born in Germany and her family had immigrated to the US when she was in high school.

As Sarah was praying for this silent woman, Helen's face came to her mind. She remembered the new young woman from Germany. So Sarah approached Helen after church the next Sunday and asked her to come to the nursing home.

And Helen had all the same thoughts as Matthias, "Who me? I am managing a toddler! I am exhausted all the time! Someone needs to care for me! Where is the door?" But Helen did not speak all these thoughts. She just agreed.

Helen entered Bridgette's room later that afternoon. In German, she introduced herself and told Bridgette how happy she was to meet her.

It was like a river of words exploded from Bridgett's mouth. She could not stop talking and crying in her native German.

Helen ended up visiting Bridgette every day. Bridgette found a reason to speak, a reason to live. And Helen learned how to be a good mother.

A moment will come for you too. The moment of an apostle. Will you let yourself be sent?

Abide in my Love

Anna sat on the back porch of her dream house. She and her husband, Malcomb, had finally succeeded in buying a home on the river. Her favorite thing to do was to go out on the back porch in the early morning with a cup of coffee, look at the river and watch the birds. She and her husband had a massive bird-feeder. It had many places for the birds to perch and eat. But without fail, every morning, the birds would get into a massive fight. They would flap and chirp and bite at one another in a desperate dance to compete for what they thought were the few spaces to eat. It was mass chaos as they made a racket flying into one another and squawking loudly. Anna would just sit back and laugh. They were such comical creatures, fighting and screeching when there was enough food and enough room for all of them.


When JD and I met we were both in a high-powered universe. He was a student at Yale Law School and I was about to begin at Yale Divinity School. The pressure to succeed in these places was high, you could cut the tension with a knife. Sometimes, we just wanted to flee.


We decided to go to Toronto, Canada, to visit a Christian community of handicapped people called L'Arche. There was a famous Catholic priest who lived there. He had given up a promising career at Yale and Harvard in order to live among the developmentally disabled. His story inspired us, so we went.

I will never forget sitting alone with Henri Nouwen as we described the stress of Yale, how everyone was competing for the best clerkships, the best jobs. He listened and then he smiled.

"All that competition," he said. "You know what I think that it is? It is just a group of people trying to be loved."

I thought about that. There we were squawking and butting heads for the few prestigious positions out there. And all we were really trying to do was to prove that we were worthy of being loved, worthy of being alive, worthy of being.

I had an uncle named James. He married into the family by marrying my fathers sister. He was handsome and smart, a history professor at Bowdoin College in Maine. He could tell great jokes and was always the life of the party. But underneath the smiles and degrees, he was deeply unhappy.

James suffered from depression. This was many years ago. We did not always know what to call it. Sometimes, my fathers sister called it melancholia, or sadness, bad moods. He would just disappear for days, go to some cabin, some far away place, lock himself in a room and listen to music until it passed. We would all beg him to stay, but he would go off, to try and protect the rest of us from his moods. But we were not protected.

One summer, we were all at a family reunion. James decided to return home early. Once he arrived at home, he went up to the attic, took a lot of pills, put on his earphones and some of his favorite music, and left us for good.

I can still see his three boys. They were so young at the time. And he just left them because he could not believe that things could get better. They stood by the car as their father drove away. Stay with us, they said. Just stay.

Jesus told his disciples to love one another. It is part of the Great Commandment. Love the Lord your God and Love your Neighbor as Yourself. But before he gives us this great commandment, he tells us something that puts the Great Commandment in perspective. He says, Abide in my love.

Abide in my love. The word in the ancient greek means to stay, to remain. Stay in my love. Stay with me, Jesus said. Live and remain in my love and all the rest of it will come easily to you.

When you were created, God made you out of love. God did not need you for company or pleasure, God was just dancing. God was just in love and you were the product of that love. But we separated ourselves from that perfect love and we abandoned God, leaving Eden and wandering all over the place, fighting for enough food, for enough love. When all the time, God made enough for us. There is more than enough love for all of us.

Did you know that your heart is so strong that it pumps enough blood in your lifetime to fill our sanctuary over 100 times? Your heart is powerful. And it is human. Can you imagine the heart of God, the capacity that the Divine One has to love you? Sometimes I wonder if we hide from Gods love not just because it is too bright to contemplate but also because we ourselves are more powerful than we realize. It is our own capacity to love God in return that scares us even more.

What would the world be like if we really trusted in God's love? We could feed every single human being on the planet. We could stop competing and maneuvering and discover that there is more than enough for all of us. Instead, we forget God's love. Quietly, we slip away into self-hatred. We forget who we are, who God created us to be. Our hearts sink into the mundane morass of daily living until we are no longer fully alive, no longer aware of the love of God.

That is why, Sunday after Sunday, as we approach the altar, I must say to you, "Lift up your hearts." Because we must rise to remember God's love. We must lift up our hearts to try, once again to dwell in that incomprehensible goodness.

We are like fishes swimming in the great sea looking for water. Just live in my love, Jesus says. Wake up to how much I have adored you since the moment you were born. Open your eyes. My food has been here for you all along. It lays before you at my table. There it is. There is enough for everyone.