Setting sail on the high seas of life and love
01/18/2020
Mark 2:13-17 Jesus went out
along the sea. All the crowd came to him and he taught them. As he passed by,
he saw Levi, son of Alphaeus, sitting at the customs post. Jesus said to him,
“Follow me.” And he got up and followed Jesus. While he was at table in his
house, many tax collectors and sinners sat with Jesus and his disciples; for
there were many who followed him. Some scribes who were Pharisees saw that
Jesus was eating with sinners and tax collectors and said to his disciples,
“Why does he eat with tax collectors and sinners?” Jesus heard this and said to
them, “Those who are well do not need a physician, but the sick do. I did not
come to call the righteous but sinners.”
One of the things I love most about
Fort Smith is the rhythm and routine of life here. People prefer a certain
predictability that produces peace. When I first arrived here over six years
ago, I often remarked: “It feels like I’m back in 1985.” I mean that in the
best sense possible, of course, because my own life was great in 1985 as a
teenager in high school, living the glory days of my youth. Fort Smith rightly
boasts a strong spirit of stability and tradition that is ingrained by
generations of people who live in the same neighborhoods, work at the same
jobs, and worship at the same churches. And that’s all good. But sometimes God
enters our life like a thunderclap out of the blue, and disrupts the drumbeat
of daily routine. And God throws us off our game.
This uncanny and unexpected
intrusion happens again and again in sacred scripture. In the first book of
Samuel, Saul is minding his own business, searching for the missing asses of
his father, Kish. Suddenly and without warning, Samuel appears like a
thunderbolt, and anoints him king of all Israel. Henceforth, Saul would be
searching for the missing asses of the Chosen People. In the gospel of Mark,
Jesus bursts into the life of Levi (later known as Matthew) minding his own
business collecting taxes for Caesar. Jesus calls him to be an apostle and
therefore start collecting souls for the true King of Kings, Christ. In other
words, both Saul and Samuel were sort of enjoying 1985 in their own world of
routine and rhythm, when God bursts in, inviting them to stop minding their own
business so they could start minding God’s business.
My friends, I believe God is
constantly bursting into our lives and disrupting that daily drumbeat of
routine. Sometimes he does that in dramatic ways, like in the life of Saul and
Levi. More often, however, he prefers the smaller and more subtle ways, like at
Mass hearing a moving homily, or at lunch visiting with a friend who shares
their grace-filled experience, or in the quiet prayer of Adoration where the
Lord nudges you to get involved in something you’ve never tried before.
At that moment of hearing the call,
we have a choice to make. We can return to the routine and regularity of what’s
familiar and safe, or we can launch out into a new adventure helped by God’s
grace. I love the quotation by John A. Shedd, who observed: “A ship in harbor
is safe – but that is not what ships are built for.” Each person was created in
the image and likeness of God – like a great ship – not to be safe at harbor,
but out on the high seas of life and love. I also love J. R. R. Tolkien’s
admonition in The Lord of the Rings, a conversation between two hobbits.
Frodo’s uncle, Bilbo, warns his little nephew: “It’s a danger business, Frodo,
going out your door. You step onto the road, and if you don’t keep your feet,
there’s no knowing where you might be swept off to.” In other words, sometimes
we have to step out of our own homes and harbors, where we mind our own
business, in order to step out into the wild world and high seas of God’s
business. And that’s always “dangerous business.”
When we take that great step, we
discover another great truth: our glory days do not lie behind us in 1985, but
rather ahead of us, and ultimately they lie in the glory of heaven.
Praised be Jesus
Christ!
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