How swiftly we move along.   Have you noticed: the days are already getting longer? Colder and snowier as well, but, hey, it is January in Montana. We began our Christian calendar year with Advent, awaiting the coming of the Lord. We waded through all the commercialism, and lo and behold, the Lord was born, Christmas.

Then we were on to Epiphany at the top of the New Year, first with the infant Lord's manifestation to the magi, then last Sunday with the celebration of the Lord's baptism, during which we released our own baptismal flock of doves to special ones anointed among us this past year.

We are still in Epiphany, but don't blink, for Epiphany is short this year, with Lent beginning February 6, on Ash Wednesday.

To rewind a bit, Jesus has been baptized, blessed by God with the Holy Spirit, as a voice is heard to say, "This is my son, the beloved, with whom I am well pleased." I tell you, this is the Christological moment, the point at which God anoints Jesus as the Messiah. At least that is my Christology, you are welcome to your own.

And "immediately," we are told, Jesus is in the wilderness, duking it out with the devil.  A stunning gospel text which we will reserve for the first Sunday of Lent, Feb. 10, as is tradition.  See you then.  We press on.

As does Jesus.  Surviving the wilderness, he heads north to Galilee.  Not back to Nazareth, his home town, but to the coastal community of Capernaum, where the congregations are bigger and the possibilities are greater, including gathering a few good men. Well, at least average guys. The women understand.

Jesus is off shore from Capernaum, along the north coast of the Sea of Galilee, in the territory of Zebulun and Naphtali, two of the twelve tribes of Israel, in fulfillment of the Old Testament prophecy of Isaiah which you heard read this morning.  And which Matthew, himself, repeats in his Gospel.

Matthew repeats Old Testament prophecies a lot in his Gospel.  More than any of the other gospels. Apparently his congregation is significantly Jewish, and he is making it very clear to his parishioners that Jesus is the long awaited Hebrew Messiah.

As Isaiah foretold it:

"The people who walked in darkness have seen a great light; those who lived in a land of deep darkness - on them light has shined." (Isaiah 9:2)  This is the good news, fulfilled in Jesus.  It comes with a price, for as Jesus preaches where John the Baptist left off, "Repent, for the kingdom of heaven is near." (4:17) Or "Turn away from your sins, for the kingdom of God is at hand."  So, the time is ripe, and you've got to choose.

The disciples don't figure to have a choice.  They are clueless. They are out fishing, not for leisure, but for a living. They are working, doing what they have always done. It's just another day.  They are casting out nets.

When suddenly from the shoreline someone shouts,  "Follow me, and I will make you fish for people." Say, what?  The disciples are just floating through life. They are not looking for a new way of life.  Their lives are adequate.   Besides, they don't know anything else.  They're just guys.  Fisher guys.

They kind of remind me of Charlie Brown, at the booth paying a nickel for advice from Lucy.  She waxes on ten cents worth, "You see, Charlie, life is like a deck chair.  On the cruise ship of life, some people place their deck chair at the rear of the ship so they can see where they've been.  Others place their deck chair at the front of the ship so they can see where they're going."

Lucy looks at her confused client, and asks, "Charlie, which way is your deck chair facing?"  Without hesitation Charlie replies glumly, "I can't even get my deck chair unfolded."

I can tell you, the disciples are on no cruise, but neither are they asking for any handouts.  They are making do.  Taking care of their own, just as their fathers did before them, when along comes this rabbi saying, "Follow me."

Now you need to know this is no ordinary rabbi.  Real rabbis did not "call" disciples.  It was considered bad form to recruit students.  The greatness of one's teaching would naturally attract a full enrollment.  So this approach was not proper. Which is the point of this epiphany.

In Matthew, Mark and Luke, Jesus calls the disciples.  In John, who's different, the disciples wander up to Jesus, curious and seeking, and are invited to "come and see."   In Matthew, Jesus is proactive, calling out, interrupting really, seeking out the disciples.  The disciples do not seek Jesus, Jesus seeks the disciples.

The message here is our Lord still reaches out, still goes forth, still calls out.  Our God in Christ is an actively seeking, relentlessly searching, coming after us Lord, not an inactive, indifferent, uncaring, aloof God.

Even as the shepherd searches for the one lost sheep, even as the father waits forever for the prodigal son to return, even as the woman tears apart her house looking for the one lost coin, so the Christ searches, waits and looks for us continually. Give God a break, and raise your hand.

Indeed, this is the good news right at the top of Jesus' ministry as he first gathers his disciples in Matthew. He is walking along the shoreline of the Sea of Galilee, and he sees two fishermen, the brothers Simon and Andrew, casting out their nets, and he calls out to them, "Follow me, and I'll make you fish for people."

He then sees two other brothers, James and John, sons of Zebedee, out in their boat mending their nets, and again Jesus calls out to them to follow him.  There, off the coast of Capernaum, Jesus ministry begins.  It happens in five swift verses. This is intentional.  There is no debate.  No squabble.  No excuses.  They drop it, their net that is, and go.  Or as Matthew tells it, "Immediately they left their nets and followed him."

A few years ago there was a book about Americans entitled, A Nation of Seekers.  I can identify with that.  I think back when I was in seminary, probably one-half of us were seekers.   We were more checking things out, than answering a call, more dipping our toe in the tub, rather than taking the plunge. It was the times, the ?60s and ?70s.  We were "a nation of seekers," or at least a generation of seekers.

It is still true today.  Certainly this is a part of the college pilgrimage.  Will Willimon, who is now a Methodist Bishop serving a conference in Georgia, writes of his experience a few years ago when Dean of the Chapel at Duke University.

It was one week in the spring, when a local businessman gave a lecture on campus entitled, "My Five Years with a Zen Master."  Two hundred students sat there in rapt attention for two hours, taking notes, nodding in agreement as he talked about the joys and the "ah, ha s" of studying Zen Buddhism.

Two nights later on campus, a graduate student was giving a talk entitled, "My Semester in a Benedictine Monastery."  Again, about two hundred students were in attendance, held in rapt attention for over an hour, fascinated at the peaceful possibilities of monastic life.   And they were the same students!

This is a good.  This is understandable.  It is part of our core curriculum as Americans, to search.  We are a nation of seekers.  This is an inalienable right, right up there with our pursuit of happiness. 

We also need to recognize this is a privilege.  Only the affluent can afford such searching, such pursuit of self if you will, if not God.  When you are struggling to survive, living in poverty, with no assuredness of tomorrow, you don't dabble in philosophy or look at life as a journey. 

And though the Christian gospels all depict Jesus as inviting people to be on a journey, this image of our long search, our groping for God, is not the purpose of the Bible.   The book is better than this.  It is the Word of God, and God's Word is not primarily a long record of our search for God; rather, it is the amazing account of the extraordinary lengths to which God will go in search for us.

Take the beginning of the story, which we have just been through, our Christmas account.  None of the characters in Christmas were looking for God.  True, we are told Zechariah and Elizabeth were living righteous lives in obedience with the Law, but they were not expecting a visitation from an angel of the Lord, announcing the barren Elizabeth would conceive.

They had long given up that dream, and were startled and afraid at the pronouncement, Zechariah the priest becoming speechless at God calling out to them.

Ditto Mary and Joseph.  Mary, too, was "sore afraid," we are told, at the annunciation, confused and bewildered.  Joseph was clueless throughout, at God's coming to him.  He was obedient, as was Mary, but they were not pressing the envelope any.  These were peasants, for crying out loud.  What was God thinking?

The shepherds were terrified.  The choir of angels was not in a normal night's work.  They did not cover this in shepherd school.  Nor was God in a regular habit of taking time out with shepherds.  So the shepherds were not looking for God, which is probably why "a heavenly host" was necessary to grab their attention.

OK, you can ruin my theory, for the magi were searching, they were characters in the Christmas story who are seeking a king.  But look at the clue that was required in order to get them there, the blazing Star of Bethlehem.   And even then they report to King Herod to ask for directions.  So I interpret even these wise guys to be pretty darn lost and God is tracking them down,  not vice-versa.

Our Christmas cast, of whom we can say, "The people who walked in darkness have seen a great light; those who lived in a land of deep darkness - on them light has shined."

Christmas is not a story about the characters finding God.  It is the story about God finding the characters.  "Love came down at Christmas," as we sing in the carol.

It continues with the calling of the disciples, and throughout the gospels.  Hardly ever do people respond to Jesus, "Eureka, I have found him!  Now how may I serve you Lord."  Not any more than the heroes of the Old Testament were excited to serve God, Moses hiding out in Midian, Gideon hiding out in a wine press, and Saul hiding in the woodshed; Samuel trying to sleep through it, Isaiah trying to slip through it, claiming his sin, and Jeremiah invoking child labor laws,  before they even had any.

No, more often people seem to avoid Jesus' call.  Just toss a quick cure this direction, Lord, and I'll be on my way.  It is Jesus who is relentless and resourceful, reaching out to the children of God.

This is how the Bible tells it.  It is not our search for God.  It is God's search for us.  Which is a good thing, for we have a tendency to bed down in darkness.  We have a propensity to look for love in all the wrong places.  We have an attraction to the wrong things, which can be fatal.

But God will not let us alone, to our own desires and wanton ways.  God comes to us and dwells with us, and knows our common lot in Christ.  God seeks us and finds us when we are astray.  Jesus just loves to seek and to save the lost.  This is what he does.  And this is why we call him Savior.

So Christianity is not so much a religion of choice, where we decide to follow Jesus.  No, Christianity is more a religion of revelation, which is what Epiphany is about, where God stuns us in self-disclosure through Christ, and calls us to a new life which is so compelling it defeats the competition and we have no choice.

So we can't really say, "I gave my life to Christ," because Christ has already given his life for us.  It is God who finds us and comes into our life, it is not we who find God.

So beware, as a Christian the life you live may not be your own.  God really does intend to have God's way with God's world, and God intends to do it through you.  We are here because God in Jesus journeyed out and found us and brought us to this place, by God's grace.

Beginning with the call of the disciples when Jesus reached out to the fisherman at the shoreline of the Sea of Galilee and said, "Follow me, and I will make you fish for people." 

"And immediately they left their nets, and they left their boats, and they followed him."  This was a good thing.  A very good thing.  The victory of God, and the beginning of our life in Christ.

Brothers and sisters, "God is still calling."

And you're it!

AMEN.