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SERMONS

Third Sunday after the Epiphany
February 8, 2009

By The Rev. Alston Johnson

There is a famous quote by William Faulkner about how some Southerners live a haunted life. Faulkner believes that some folks who grow up in the South are visited by an old vision; they dream a kind of old dream. They are transported through time and space to a particular moment written into the Southern soul; it cannot be easily escaped. It is lived and must be faced.

From Faulkner’s book - Intruder in the Dust:
“For every Southern boy fourteen years old, not once, but whenever he wants it, there is the instant when it's still not yet two o’clock on that July afternoon in 1863, the brigades are in position behind the rail fence, the guns are laid and ready in the woods and the furled flags are already loosened to break out and Pickett himself with his long oiled ringlets and his hat in one hand probably and his sword in the other looking up the hill waiting for Longstreet to give the word and it's all in the balance, it hasn't happened yet, it hasn't even begun yet, it not only hasn't begun yet, but there is still time for it not to begin . . .”

It is the Civil War. It is Gettysburg, Pennsylvania, on a hot July afternoon, where thousands upon thousands of young Southern men are armed and lined along the bottom of a hill - the hill is called Cemetery Ridge. Some are writing farewell letters. Some are praying. And some are wondering if it is not too late to call this thing off.

And what Faulkner is saying that for every true southerner, at some point, in some moment, it is THIS hot day, it is THIS battlefield, it is THIS moment - the moment before the highwater mark of the Confederacy, the moment before Picket’s charge, the moment before the Civil War truly begins to end.

There is something about that day, July, 1863, that calls out to the southern soul. There is something about that moment, toward which the Southern soul must turn, and make its peace - or forever be transported, haunted, by what could have been - but was not. It is a bookmark about the end of something, and the beginning of something new; and it calls, it calls to some Southerners. It haunts them.

I believe there is a similar kind of bookmark for Christians. A similar haunting; fortunately it is not to run up a hill into canon fire for a dying dream.

For every Christian, not once, but whenever he or she wants it, there is that instant, when our life seems more or less in order or disorder, we have our nets ready for the day, and then suddenly there is the sound of a footstep, perhaps someone calling our name, and we find ourselves transported to a shore beside of the Sea of Galilee. Someone is mending nets. Someone is fishing. And there is a visitor who is calling.

For every Christian there is an instant, a moment, that WE share with Simon, Andrew, James and John. I believe that in every Christian soul, perhaps tucked away in the memory of the heart, it is THIS instant, THIS moment, that lives across the centuries - the moment that Jesus steps into the lives of the unsuspecting, in this case fisherman, and begins to rearrange the world.

The truth and the power and the deep desire for a such a moment is what haunts some Christians. We long for an intruder into OUR dust.

For each of us, there is a time and a place in which God momentarily displaces the world as we know it and He steps in - and there is a voice, there is call, and there is a decision with a before and after. There is a moment that we share with Simon, Andrew, James, and John - standing over our nets, or listening to this call from Jesus.

That call can come to us in so many kinds of moments: driving across the country, sitting in our office, folding laundry, cutting the grass, an afternoon with a book . . . and snap, in an instant, we are transported.

In our minds and souls, we are standing beside a lake in Galilee, where there is the sound of footsteps on rock, and a few names tossed into the breeze: Simon, Andrew, James, John - and perhaps you catch your name in that breeze . . . . and perhaps your world will never be the same, because of this visit, this interruption while you were at your nets. It is that “before and after moment” of saying yes to God.

If we follow Jesus - we will leave something behind. It might be our actual nets. We might very well be called to leave our stock in trade. Our office, our desk, our toolbox and/or our laptop.

If we follow Jesus - we might be called to leave behind some part or piece of ourselves that we did not believe we could every live without. Perhaps our pride, our vainglory, our grudges, our exalted expectations of ourselves and others. Wishful thinking.

On that shore, along that lake, with that visitor - something is left behind.

Like the disciples, Jesus calls us away from things that we never dreamed we could live without; whether it be some romantic view of history, some romantic view of ourselves, some old half-truth that we drape over ourselves when we feel naked.

If you sometimes feel that someone is watching you, that someone is following you, that someone is intentionally interrupting your life . . . your agenda . . . well you are right.

For every Christian, there is an instant, there is a moment, when there is a rustling in the soul, when there is the sound of footsteps on rock, the sound of our name in the breeze, and everything that we have been before, and everything that we will be afterwards, depends upon what we do with our nets.