Seeing Is More Than Looking
“Seeing Is More Than Looking”
Isaiah 49:1-7 Psalm 40:1-11 John 1:29-42
Second Sunday after Epiphany, Second Sunday in Ordinary Time, Year A
January 19, 2020
First Presbyterian Church of Sandpoint, Idaho
Andrew Kennaly, Pastor
To look around, sometimes our eyes deceive us. We see destruction, deterioration, and despite our best efforts, sometimes it seems like we just can’t win. Corruption of geo-politics and the larger legacies of continual war and threats of ecological destruction, cycles of revenge as anger transfers from one generation to another along lines of unforgiveness; these seem beyond our control. Or more personal aspects, like illnesses or disease, and our best laid plans to live the good life – these get derailed by unforeseen circumstances. Stress goes up as unresolved issues get suppressed, only to rear their heads years later, disguised as some other form needing recognition.
In the scriptures this morning, we read that Isaiah’s being called. In this story, we see the human dynamic of life, illustrated as the innocence of the womb and gift of life, lovingly created, enters a world where expectations lead to resentments waiting to happen, and things are not as they seem. Yet God is persistent, faithful to humanity and all creation, and reminds us not only of the original intent behind our birth, but notches things up a level or two, teaching us that there are even more aspects to life than we had first imagined. If we are willing, the blinders that served to protect us start peeling off and we discover that seeing is more than looking, and life is filled with the light of divinity to the ends of the earth.
Life is a journey, and like any adventure involves points of transition. In these scriptures this morning, we get a sense of movement, of calling, which is partly an identity thing, but more so an invitational thing. God is inviting us, like Isaiah, like the disciples, to participate in God being glorified through our lives.
Isaiah wasn’t convinced. He knew the blessed nature of his birth and his chosen status, like a polished arrow in God’s quiver, made with a mouth like a sharp sword. Yet even with this type of imagery, Isaiah says, “I have labored in vain, I have spent my strength for nothing and vanity…” How does he get to this point? By looking around and seeing circumstances of destruction, as if our best efforts really lead to nothing, and even if they succeed, nothing lasts; its vanity, seeking after the wind. But then the journey continues, and Isaiah gives consent to God, showing trust that even though things look rough, somehow God holds a larger view and a more powerful purpose is at work.
That’s when the surprise comes, as God says, “It is too light a thing that you should be my servant to raise up the tribes of Jacob and restore the survivors of Israel; I will give you as a light to the nations.” God is expanding Isaiah’s call in the very time it seems that call has failed. This is a transformational moment, not only in the prophet’s life, but for all of scripture, as God is moving from blessing a small band of people, to expanding salvation to the ends of the earth. God is using a most unlikely person for extraordinary purposes.
Thus the nature of a call narrative, and the blueprint for a life in relationship with God who loves us just the way we are, but too much to leave us that way. John shares about the calling of those first disciples as they discover Jesus and heed his invitation to “come and see.” As Simon, son of John, is introduced, Jesus changes his name to Cephas, which means Peter. This gives us a big hint that in following Jesus we are dealing with nothing less than giving up the identity we thought we had in order to find our more foundational, bed-rock essence as God draws us from our false self into our True Self, which is eternally created, shaped, and sustained by the Living Christ. Yet with each step on this journey, even the ones that look like missteps and involve struggle and pain, Jesus echoes the question he asked John’s disciples, who were following him, as he stops, turns around asks them directly, “What are you looking for?”
What are you looking for as you follow Jesus? An easy life? Exemption from physical ailments? Release from the struggle involved in maturing through one stage of life to another? A world without conflict? The ease of burdens? Release from primordial fear at the depths of your life, buried so deep you didn’t even know they existed, but then all of sudden they rear up and send you spinning? Are you looking for prosperity? There are lots of preachers selling the prosperity gospel, and many 800 numbers to call if you want to help “give so God will bless you even more.”
What is involved in following Jesus, regardless of what we’re looking for or what our motivations are? How does one heed God’s call, especially as God’s creative glory is anything but static? The Psalmist gives us a hint. “I waited patiently for the LORD; he inclined to me and heard my cry.” (Psalm 40 vs. 1). Waited patiently. Growing in faith is not like instant pudding, and we aren’t able to whisk up spiritual maturity at a moment’s notice. “Waited patiently” implies a process, an unfolding, like a seed in the depths of dark soil gradually emerging into the light which draws it out to grow as a plant that gives food and lives in relationship to the neighborhood.
In fact, we see the waiting of the Psalmist is no picnic. God “inclines” and “hears” the “cry” because the Psalmist is stuck, in “the desolate pit.” A pit is a very deep hole that has no way out. “Desolate” is even more isolating. You can’t scramble up the sides, it’s dark and dangerous. The Psalmist is “drawn up” by God, “out of the miry bog.” There’s another image. Miry. Bog. Think “loosing your boot in the mud.”
One of our family friends has a house along the Pend Oreille River and he was there by himself to winterize the place, and went out into the mud to grab the water pump that was used for the lawn. The water level in the river had dropped so he just walked right out toward the pump but got stuck in the mud, and it was cold outside, and it was late in the day, and there was nobody around to help him. The Psalmist didn’t know about cell phones. Thankfully, our friend had put his phone in his pocket and he called 9-1-1 and the Sagle Fire Department came and rescued him from the miry bog that he was struggling in, and the more he struggled the worse it got.
God puts the Psalmist on better footing, “set my feet upon a rock, making steps secure.” This leads to something new, something beyond the limitations of what came before, as God puts a “new song of praise” in the mouth of the Psalmist, even as their life becomes an example of trust. What is contrasted? What is it that leads us astray? Pride, going after “false gods.” The Psalmist says God has multiplied, “wondrous deeds and your thoughts toward us.” God’s thoughts, leading to action from a new foundation. Moving beyond conventional thinking and it’s false loops and narratives to have an open ear and a heart willing to receive God’s saving help. Steadfast love and faithfulness, qualities the Psalmist declares regarding the living Presence of God, these are not static descriptions. Love is a verb, faithfulness involves trust even in the midst of not seeing. Because seeing is more than looking, it is our heart that reveals more than our eyes.
As Jesus comes and John declares, “Here is the Lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world!” we are reminded that in Jesus our blinders come off and the illusion of separation is removed. “What are you looking for?” “Come and see.” In following Jesus we learn the art of letting go, and humility helps us get unstuck and discover God inclining even through the desolation. In order to experience a transition, to embrace something new, most of the time this involves letting go of what came before, but not totally. We want to keep the good stuff, without identifying with the negative parts. One stage of life merges into another and all along the journey, Jesus gives us a new name. May we be open to receiving the invitation, the deeper trust, the saving Presence, and the creative light at work in our lives and in the world.
And God’s courageous and humble love is shared, NOW, even as forever. Amen.