Risky Business

“Say what, Lord? Did I hear you right?” Ananias was dumbfounded. He had just had a vision in which God told him to go to the house of a certain Judas on Straight Street and seek out Saul of Tarsus, to lay hands on him. Ananias was terrified. “Lord,” Ananias said, “not this man. He has been persecuting us, and even now, he has the authority to arrest us all.” “Nevertheless,” replied the Lord, “you must go to him. He is my chosen instrument who will spread the good news about me to both Jews and Gentiles.” Although Ananias felt as if he were literally risking his life, he threw caution to the winds, went to Judas’s house, and laid hands on Saul.

Saul was surely God’s chosen instrument. He himself had had a terrifying encounter with the risen Lord on the road leading into Damascus. Struck blind, he waited for three days for Ananias to come and lay hands on him. No doubt Ananias was also there when Saul became a member of Christ’s Body in baptism. After that, Saul, or Paul as we know him from his Latin name, became a formidable preacher, founder, and letter writer who laid the foundation for the rapid spread of the Gospel among Gentile communities. However, Paul wasn’t the only instrument in this story. Without Ananias, would Paul have become such a great preacher and evangelist? Without Ananias’ ministry, quite possibly Paul’s ministry would have died on the vine. Fortunately for the church and for us, Ananias overcame his fear and headed for Straight Street, ready to face whatever the Lord had for him there. Let’s look for a minute at what Ananias did. First of all, he overcame his personal prejudices. Despite Saul’s reputation, Ananias was willing to embrace him in the Lord’s name, and even managed to call him “Brother Saul.” He also dared to believe in transformation: he believed that, despite what Saul had been, it was possible that the Lord had really transformed him into a preacher of the Gospel. What is most important, Ananias overcame his personal fears and trusted the Lord’s words to him. He was able to take a great risk.

Ananias was hardly alone in risking his own personal safety in order to follow the Lord’s call. Our Scriptures are full of the stories of those who risked their safety and security to follow God’s call. How about Abraham? He was comfortably settled in Ur of the Chaldees when God told him to pack up and go to the land of Canaan. God even promised him that, although Abraham and his wife Sarah were childless and over seventy, that their descendants would be as numerous as the stars. How about Moses? He was hiding out from the authorities working as a shepherd for his father-in-law when God told him to go to Pharaoh and persuade him to let the Israelites leave Egypt. Worse, at the edge of the Sea of Reeds, God told Moses to lead the people right into the water! How about Mary? She was betrothed but not yet married, and she hadn’t slept with her fiancée yet, when the angel Gabriel announced to her that God wanted her to bear God’s son, who was to be the savior of his people. And Jesus? As they left the upper room that last night, didn’t he know that the religious and civil authorities were out to get him? Shouldn’t he have said to his followers, “We’re out of here folks. If we move fast, we can get away before they find us.” Instead, he fulfilled his destiny and went to Gethsemane. Even Peter. He kept his promises to Jesus to feed Jesus’ sheep, risking his life and ultimately following his Lord to a martyr’s death. How did they all do it? Quite simply, they trusted God, they set their faces in the direction they believed God was asking them to go, and they went.

And what of us? Can we follow in the footsteps of Abraham, Moses, Mary, Peter, and Ananias? In this post-9/11 world we think that we can ensure safety and security through better surveillance and a “war on terror.” But, my friends, following God’s call has always been risky. Saul was only the first of many persecutors of the early Christian community. Until well into the fourth century, it was a crime to be a Christian in the Roman empire! During the Reformation, non-conformists, to the Roman Church, or even to the Church of England for more than two centuries, faced legal and social discrimination. Today in Palestine, Iraq, Iran, India, China, and parts of Africa, followers of our Lord face imprisonment or even worse. Perhaps, for us, the risks that we are asked to take to follow our Lord pale in comparison to the risks taken by Christians in other countries. But there are still risks, even if they are only risks of time, talent, and treasure!

There are no certainties in this faith life, there is no safety and security when God has your cell phone number. When once you have heard God’s call, when once you are a member of the Body of Christ, all you can do is set your face in God’s direction and go. On April 20, 1964, when Apartheid in South Africa was in full sway, Nelson Mandela proclaimed his commitment to an inclusive, democratic, and free society. It was, Mandela said, “an ideal which I hope to live for and achieve. But if needs be, it is an ideal for which I am prepared to die.” After twenty-seven faithful years in prison, Mandela lived to see his vision fulfilled. Six years ago, I was like Abraham, happily ensconced in my position as dean. Then the Lord said, “Give up your academic career, go to seminary, and become a priest.” “Say what, Lord? Did I hear you right?” And like Ananias, I screwed up my courage and went.

There are no certainties in this faith life. There is only what Roman Catholic social activist Dorothy Day called “precarity,” precariousness, or rather faith in God and dependence on God, despite God’s call to what seems wildly risky business. Parishes too face “precarity.” God is always calling us out in faith, always calling us out to take risks so that the Gospel may continue to be proclaimed. United Methodist Bishop Robert Schnase suggests five ways in which parishes, if they want to flourish and grow, are called to take risks. I’d like to suggest what Schnase’s strategies might look like in our context. First, a parish is called to practice radical hospitality: reaching out in genuine welcome to all in our community who yearn to hear the good news of God in Christ and listening deeply to hear what people’s needs actually are. Second, a parish is called to embrace passionate worship, worship that really connects us to God, that enables us to enter into the mystery of God present to us in Word and Sacrament. For us, especially, passionate worship also includes worship that unites the best from both our rich liturgical tradition with the rich variety of contemporary liturgies. Third, a parish must engage in intentional faith development. Our education as Christians wasn’t completed when the bishop laid hands on us in confirmation. A vibrant and healthy parish constantly engages in formation and offers to its members opportunities to grow and mature in faith. Later this year, I will challenge you to join with me again in just such transformative education. Fourth, we must be about risk-taking mission and service, we must engage in mission that stretches us as a parish. We must look hard at our gifts and abilities and the needs of the community and the world, and ask ourselves where they intersect, where we can continue fulfilling our baptismal promise to “seek and serve Christ in all people.” Finally, we must practice extravagant generosity. Among other things, extravagant generosity means letting God have first claim on our resources – all our resources. Historically for Christians extravagant generosity has meant the tithe, giving one-tenth of one’s income back to God. At the very least generosity means intentional, proportional giving, intentionally dedicating a portion of our resources to God and to mission, in gratitude for everything God has given us. When we put first in our lives our obligations to God, including our obligations to give of our resources, our whole relationship to God and to the people around us radically changes. These are all risky behaviors, but they are all the risks that a parish needs to take in order to grow and flourish.

There are no certainties in this faith life, neither for individuals nor for parishes. The only certainty is that we are called to go where God leads us. We are all called to screw up our courage, head for Straight Street and lay hands on a former persecutor. Ananias, we see you heading out the door. By God’s grace, we’re right behind you.