Have you been tired lately? It seems that everyone I know is feeling strung out and exhausted. February is often the most difficult month for those of us who live in the Northwest. It’s cold and dark and wet. Plus, we’ve had two years of a global pandemic. We are worn out by anxiety, grief and the inability to get to the other side of this. Most of us are concerned for our community, our city and our nation. Despite the wealth, power and knowledge of our leaders, citizens and institutions we seem unable to successfully address the many issues we face.
We’re weary. We’re discouraged. Many are ready to quit or already have. It’s harder and harder to try again; to reach out again; to engage again. We just want a break.
The stories in Scripture express the universal human experience. All three of today’s readings describe what it means to be tired and discouraged; fed up about the world as it is and our own inability and failure to change things. Isaiah, Paul, and Peter and his fellow fishermen are all struggling and worn down. Part of it is their inability to change situations that harm their people. Part of it is awareness of personal sin and the consequences of both their action and inaction. And a lot of it is that they have come to the end of their resources, they are spent, played out.
Isaiah hits the floor of the Temple as he is overwhelmed by the awesome presence of God. Paul gets thrown to the ground when he hears the voice of the risen Christ. The fishermen have labored so long and fruitlessly that they barely have energy to pack up their equipment to go home empty handed and hungry. They have all reached their weakest point. They’re ready to throw in the towel. They’ve got nothing left.
Maybe, that’s where they had to be in order to hear God’s call.
For Peter, it starts when Jesus asks to borrow his boat. I wonder if Peter had a sarcastic remark along the lines of “Well I just spent another pointless 12 hours in that piece of ship for no good reason, so you might as well take it and make some use of it!” It hadn’t done any good as a fishing boat but it made a good platform for an itinerant spiritual teacher whose voice would project more clearly over water to the crowd gathered there.
Can you imagine those fishermen, sitting on the shore, fixing nets, never done with labor, no matter how tired they were, while everyone else simply listens to Jesus. Maybe they were resentful. And if they weren’t at first, imagine how they felt when Jesus asked them to pick up their nets, put them back in the boat and row out again into the deepest part of the lake? I mean, this is a carpenter telling them what to do. What does he know about fishing?
But Peter. Peter says yes to Jesus and nothing has ever been the same. The nets fill with fish and the rest of the guys have to speed out to help bring in the catch. Peter is overwhelmed and confesses his own sin and weakness. He tells Jesus to go away from him. Get out of here. Instead of leaving, Jesus comes closer to Peter, reassures him and then calls him to follow. Finally, once they’re all back to shore, they find their purpose and meaning in life. They resign their profession to follow Jesus and his vision of God’s reign. These poor, mostly uneducated, young people are at the core of a movement that continues to this day.
What are you called to do with your life? What gives you meaning and purpose even when you’re tired, spent, at the end of your rope? Perhaps you are at that point when you’re ready to hear a new call, discern a different purpose, go in a different direction. Or maybe you are in a position to renew your commitment to follow the call that directs your life. You are ready for a new infusion of strength, energy and courage to continue the journey. Perhaps you are near enough that you can imagine the end of this earthly pilgrimage. You long to hear the words, “Well done, good and faithful servant.”
That’s where John Lewis was in the months before his death on July 17, 2020. He was determined to complete his life, faithful to the last. As a teenager in the tiny, rural town of Troy, Alabama, John knew he wanted to be a preacher. He practiced on the chickens when he collected their eggs. His parents were poor sharecroppers and he was one of ten children. At age 15 he preached his first sermon and he heard Martin Luther King Jr. on the radio for the first time. He was never the same.
He put out into deep water, studying, meeting civil rights leaders like Rosa Parks and King himself, influenced by Scripture, the Black Church and even Billy Graham. He knew how difficult it was for a Black man or woman to make their way in the South. As a young student he sat in at lunch counters and participated in the Freedom Rides to desegregate bussing.
When he trained in the ways of non-violent resistance, he found his calling and purpose. For John, following Jesus on the way of the cross meant standing up to the forces of evil and violence, not with equal or greater violence, but rather with soul force, the power of love, God’s love, the love of Jesus who laid down his life, not just for his friends but for his enemies.
John took up leadership in the Civil Rights movement and ultimately in the U.S. House of Representatives. Congressman John Lewis fought for justice and equality no matter how many setbacks or barriers he encountered, including terrible physical harm and the threat of death.
The iconic image of John Lewis is the one of him leading the Voting Rights march out of Selma, Alabama across the Edmund Pettis Bridge on the way to Montgomery. I was there a few months ago and walked across that very bridge, tracing the path of the marchers. They had committed themselves to a very public, non-violent march to involve the federal government in the protection of the right to vote for everyone, particularly the poor and people of color. They met at a small church in Selma to pray and sing and commit themselves to non-violence.
John was in the front, leading the march. As they came over the hump of the bridge, they could see the sheriff and his men blocking the way, refusing to let them proceed peacefully. As the marchers stopped to pray, the sheriff and his deputies beat, chased and knocked down men and women who offered no resistance. John was hit so hard he lost consciousness and had to be carried away. He bore scars from that violence for the rest of his life.
They were turned back that day. But John persisted. A few months later they were joined by Martin Luther King and the march was successful. It helped to turn the tide and get the Voting Rights Act passed, which up until a few years ago, protected the right to vote in states with a historic record of oppression of the Black vote.
Representative Lewis continued the fight for the rest of his life. He remained committed to non-violence even in the face of ongoing attacks on Black lives and the Black vote. The bill named for him to protect current attempts to weaken voting rights failed to pass in the Senate less than a month ago. If he were alive, he would continue the fight, continue to get into “good trouble.”
Jesus called John, a 15 year old, poor, Black teenager from a backwater town to follow him. Jesus called fisherman from an unimportant and undeveloped area of an occupied territory to follow him. Jesus calls you and me no matter our weariness, fear, discouragement or lack of confidence. Jesus fills us with the soul force of the Holy Spirit and commissions us to tasks that we can never fulfill on our own strength. He bids us to Fear Not and to keep our eyes on him as he takes us out into deep water.
He reminds us that power is not found in the ways of the world, which are ways of violence, force, hatred, gamesmanship, competition and oppression. Our power is in the way of the cross – of sacrificial love and undying hope. As Lewis said:
“You are a light. You are the light. Never let anyone — any person or any force — dampen, dim or diminish your light … Release the need to hate, to harbor division, and the enticement of revenge. Release all bitterness. Hold only love, only peace in your heart, knowing that the battle of good to overcome evil is already won.”
For African Americans, the march for freedom, justice, dignity and respect has been going on for over 400 years. You can imagine that a body might get weary. Weary of being overlooked. Weary of fighting for basic rights. Weary of systems that make it so difficult to get an even break. Weary of the violence and hatred directed towards them. It’s exhausting. It can break the spirit. And yet the movement continues. As older leaders die, new ones take on the mantle.
In the words of the African American spiritual, Children, don’t get weary. Don’t get weary. Don’t get weary, for the time is drawing nigh. Christian, don’t get weary. Don’t get weary, ‘til your work is done and your journey over. Amen.
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