September 14, 2008

God calls Abraham out of his homeland in Haran, Moses out of his hideout in Midian, as preached last Sunday, Saul out of his toolshed, and Gideon out of a wine press.

God calls Samuel while he sleeps, Jeremiah while he is yet a youth, the disciples while they fish, and Paul while riding upon his high horse.

God calls at surprising times, in surprising ways, to surprised people.

Why, you read the Bible and you get the idea; everybody is "on call."

You may recall in the movie "Oh, God," that cinema of theological profundity, and referenced last week as well, God's timing in the calling of the character played by John Denver. God, in the person of George Burns, shows up in Denver's bathroom, while John is doing his business in the john.

Says an astonished if not disbelieving Denver, "Is that really you, God?" Answers God, "Yes, it is." Gasps Denver, "Here in my bathroom?!?"

God calls at surprising times, in surprising ways, to surprised people. And the people's response is almost always the same. It comes in two parts.

1. There is the response of disbelief:

"Who, me?"

"Surely you don't mean me, Lord?"

"You must be kidding!"

"I must be dreaming!"

Denver: "But God, what are you doing here?"

God: "I'm speaking to you. I have a mission I'd like you to do for me."

Denver: "But why me, God? I'm just a grocery clerk."

God: "You'll do just fine."

First, we disbelieve the call.

2. We make excuses so as not to hear and heed the call.

"Really, Lord, I believe got the wrong number, for as you well know I, I, I don't speak too good...hear too well...feel so great...I'm too small...too tall...too young...too old...too busy...on vacation..."

Denver: "But God, I don't think you want me. I'm not really very religious."

God: "I'm not talking religion. Religion is easy. I'm talking faith."

Denver: "But I don't even belong to a church."

God: "Neither do I."

First, we disbelieve the call.

Second, we dismiss the call.

The point is: God calls everybody. Each one of us. 700 times the word "call" appears in the Bible. That's nearly two calls a day for a year. God is doing a lot of calling in scripture. Don't hang up!

A few faithful folk respond, to one reluctant degree or another. They answer God's call, and we have noted their names in the Holy Book ever since.

The call begins with creation. First chapter, we are "created in God's image." (1:27) Then we are told, next verse, "God blesses us." (1:28) God creates us and then God blesses us. The blessing in the beginning is our call. God calls us to life. And not any old life. God calls us to life created in God's image and therefore called for a purpose.

Our task and challenge in life is to answer God's call so that we might fulfill our purpose. To become, as Bishop Desmond Tutu puts it, "a God-carrier." To be a God-carrier, a messenger of the love of God, is everyone's calling in life. Carry it as you will. It is a holy assignment.

God calls Isaiah. Six-winged seraphim sailing about singing, "Holy, holy, holy is the Lord of hosts," while the Temple shakes and smokes. It's impressive! It certainly catches Isaiah's attention.

Isaiah's response to this surprise appearance of the Lord: "Woe is me! For I am undone."

Take it from Isaiah, when the Lord appears to you on the pathway of your pilgrimage, it is well to say, "Woe is me! For I am undone."

You will want to remember this, so when the Lord shows up in the toilet of your life, you will know what to say. Begin your conversation by quoting Isaiah. In fact, let's practice. Please repeat after me, "Woe is me!" (repeat) "For I am undone." (repeat) Good, now you're ready. First comes confession. Then comes call.

How did Isaiah know to say this? "Woe is me! For I am undone, because I am a man of unclean lips, and I dwell in the midst of a people of unclean lips." (6:5) How did Isaiah know to begin with confession?

Well, you see, this is all happening, as we are told in the opening line of our scripture reading, "In the year that King Uzziah died..." Which means nothing to us, for we have never heard of Uzziah, let alone know in what year he died.

However, it means much to Isaiah. Let me fill you in.

The year is 742 B.C. King Uzziah ruled Judah during what is known as the "period of the kings" in Hebrew history. It was not a high point in Hebrew history.

The kings, most of them, were hard of hearing, i.e., though God was still speaking, they were not hearing God's call, and, therefore, they and their people went wandering from the faith. This prompted prophets to speak up. So this "period of the kings" is also known as the "period of the prophets."

King Uzziah was an exception to this less than exceptional succession of kings. Like his father before him, King Amaziah, Uzziah "did what was pleasing in the eyes of the Lord." Uzziah was an exception. I tell you, there are never enough Uzziahs.

Scripture tells us most of the kings "did what was evil in the sight of the Lord." But not Uzziah. He "did what was pleasing in the eyes of the Lord." Uzziah was a sight for God's sore eyes.

In the beginning. In the beginning. Uzziah had a long rule, 783-742 B.C., nearly 42 years. During his reign we are told he served the Lord faithfully. And he was rewarded for his good work mightily.

Uzziah defeated the Philistines. No small fete. The Ammonites paid tribute to him, and they didn't bow down to many. And his fame spread everywhere. King Uzziah - a powerful and popular potentate.

But, alas, the good Book, which does not glorify humanity, it glorifies God, reads, "...when King Uzziah became strong, he grew arrogant." Oh, not again, fill in any number of famous names in human history, "...when King Uzziah became strong, he grew arrogant, and this led to King Uzziah's downfall." (II Chronicles 26:16)

What happens? Well, Uzziah becomes so self-sufficient that he goes to the Temple to burn incense to the Lord, a sacrament for which only the priests are consecrated. These things were well defined in Hebrew Law. Kings had their things, and priests had theirs. The burning of incense in the Temple was a priest thing.

The priests warn him, "Uzziah, you have no right." In other words, "Don't do this, Uzziah!" But Uzziah, so self-elevated his ears are plugged to the still-speaking God, does not heed their warning. He burns incense to the Lord at the altar in the Temple.

As he does so, a dreaded skin disease breaks out on his forehead. And forever stays. King Uzziah pays the price for his pride. He becomes ritually unclean, and therefore is banished from the Temple as well as public life.

Uzziah lives the rest of his life as a leper in seclusion. While his son governs the country. At his death, Uzziah is buried in the royal cemetery, but because of his leprosy, not in the royal tomb. A sad ending to a once satisfactory life.

"In the year that King Uzziah died," our scripture tells us, "(Isaiah) saw the Lord." Which is to say, the message is not lost on Isaiah: "pride goeth before the fall."

So Isaiah, upon seeing the glory of the Lord of hosts, knows to humble himself, and therefore says, rightly, "Woe is me! For I am undone, because I am a man of unclean lips, and I dwell in the midst of a people (nay, even a king) of unclean lips." (6:5)

Isaiah has learned the lesson of Uzziah. He confesses his unworthiness before the Lord, "I am a man of unclean lips."

God forgives Isaiah's unworthiness, (see, it's not so bad), by cleansing his lips with a burning chunk of coal (well, O.K., maybe it's a little uncomfortable).

But cleansed and forgiven, Isaiah is free to live and liberated to be the blessing for which he is created in God's image.

The Lord then asks, asks, mind you, not commands, the Lord, just thinking out loud, says to Isaiah with the blistered lips, "Whom shall I send (to save my people)? Who will be my messenger?"

And Isaiah, who is to become the greatest prophet in the Old Testament, the prophet who portends the character of Christ, who speaks of the suffering servant to come, Isaiah, out of his own sense of humility and experience of the forgiveness of God, Isaiah does something nearly unique in the Bible, and any other book of life. Isaiah volunteers! By the way, thank you to those of you who stood before us earlier in this service as volunteers to serve on our boards

Not even Abraham, "Father of the faith," volunteered. True, when called by God, Abraham goes without complaining. Which is also unique. But Isaiah actually volunteers!

I mean, Moses, Samuel, Saul, David, Jeremiah, and the lot of them all try to weasel out of it. It's in the book. But "In the year that King Uzziah died," not Isaiah. God, wondering aloud, says, "Whom shall I send?" And Isaiah feels the finger of the Lord upon his life. Isaiah is in touch with the grace and glory of God. The seraphim singing "Holy, holy, holy" tell him something, along with his burnt lips.

So Isaiah says in response, "Here am I, Lord, send me."

Is this guy different or what? God says, "My children are suffering! Whom shall I send?" And Isaiah says, "You rang, Lord?" God says, "My gift of life is being defiled! Whom shall I send?" And Isaiah responds, "Yo, right here, Lord!" God says, "My justice is being ridiculed and my creation wasted. Whom shall I send?" And Isaiah answers, "Say, Lord! I'm your man." God says, "My people are pandering to other gods and prostituting the purpose of life. Whom shall I send?" And Isaiah volunteers, "Here I am, Lord. Send me!"

I tell you, we don't hear this very often. Not often enough. People answering God's call. It takes courage. It's costly. Its long hours, at low wages, with lousy benefits. It's surprising we hear this call at all.

Yet we do. Sometimes we do. Incredibly we do. People give themselves; lose themselves, for the love of the Lord. It happens.

It happened to Marion Preminger. I've told her story once before. Born into an aristocratic family in Hungary, 1913, she was raised in a castle, surrounded by servants and chauffeurs, maids and motes, and all the things castles come with.

She attended school in Vienna, along with other wealthy offspring. At a Viennese ball, she met prince charming, son of a Viennese doctor. They fell in love, and at the age of 18, married.

The marriage lasted one year.

Marion entered acting. While auditioning for a play, she met a young German director, named Otto Preminger. They fell in love and married.

The couple moved to America, so Otto could pursue his career in Hollywood. Marion, enamored with tinsel town, and the superficial life of stardom, experienced the meltdown of her second marriage. She and Otto divorced. Marion returned to Europe, to the life of a Parisian socialite.

In 1948, at the age of 35, she read that the African missionary, Dr. Albert Schweitzer, was making one of his periodic visits to Europe. She called Schweitzer and made an appointment to meet him. They met the next day in a nearby village church, where Schweitzer was playing an organ recital.

That evening they dined together, and Marion Preminger heard the seraphim call her name. When Schweitzer returned to Africa, the woman who had been raised in a castle, who had lived like a queen, who knew Hollywood stardom and Parisian stardust, went with him, to work as a servant of God bathing black bodies, changing bandages and feeding the lepers in his hospital at Lamberene.

Marion Preminger tells her story in her autobiography, All I Want Is Everything. She tells the story how she had everything, but was empty. And how she emptied herself, and became full. She answered God's call and gave her life away. In doing so, she purchased the pearl of great price, where having everything meant nothing and serving God meant everything.

God calls at surprising times, in surprising ways, to surprised people. Every day God calls.

Oh, it may not be to the drama of six-winged seraphim singing, "Holy, holy, holy," as it was with Isaiah. And it may not be to the sacrificial extremes of Marion Preminger, but every day God calls us to be a blessing in God's world.

Each day God purifies our lips and our lives anew, and calls us to be participants in God's "good news." Don't be too busy or too inconvenienced, don't be too proud or too put out, don't be too preoccupied or over qualified, to answer God's call, "Here am I! Send me." For to walk on the face of God's earth is to be "on call."

AMEN.