Anywhere and Everywhere

The Rev. Dr. Skip Ferguson

Manassas Presbyterian Church

Manassas, Virginia

June 24, 2012

Anywhere and Everywhere

Mark 4:35

On that day, when evening had come, he said to them,

“Let us go across to the other side.”

The Sea of Galilee is really more of a lake

than what we might think of when we hear the word “sea”.

It’s about 8 miles across at its widest point

and not quite 14 miles from north to south,

more like the Chesapeake Bay than the Mediterranean Sea.

Like any lake, the Sea of Galilee

can often be a place of calm,

with not a breath of wind to be found

rippling the water’s surface,

the sails of boats scattered along the shore hanging limp,

fishermen’s tough skin scorched red in the heat.

But weather on a lake,

even one as small as the Sea of Galilee,

can change in an instant,

calm waters quickly turned rough with waves,

the water churning in gusty winds that can tear sails apart,

and flip small boats,

taking even the most experienced fishermen with them.

That’s what we’d hear in this story

if we had read through verse 41,

seven verses, rather than the one I read:

the power of a sudden storm,

men caught in the middle of the sea

in the dark of night,

filled with fear for their lives,

imploring their sleeping teacher,

“do you not care that we are perishing?”

But the first verse is too inviting for us to slide past it

in our rush to get to the drama of a dark and stormy night.

“On that day, when evening had come, he said to them,

‘Let us go across to the other side’.”

Much like God’s question to Adam and Eve,

that we talked about two weeks ago,

“where are you,”

this verse sounds like it is about geography:

“Let us go from point A to point B;

and the quickest way to do that is to sail across the lake.”

But there is more to this statement than geography

if we dig a little deeper.

If we were to read ahead,

past the story of the storm,

we’d learn that Jesus was leading the disciples

to the “the country of the Garasenes.”

In crossing the Sea of Galilee

Jesus was taking his new disciples

away from the countryside they knew,

away from their homeland,

to the land of the Gentiles,

to an area populated by men and women

who followed other gods:

Roman gods, Greek gods, pagan gods,

perhaps even no gods.

Jesus was taking his disciples

from the familiar and the comfortable

to the unfamiliar,

the foreign,

perhaps even to the dangerous.

The first person they encountered

in the country of the Garasenes makes the point:

It was the man who has become known as

“the Garasene demoniac”,

a man who we learn was possessed of an unclean spirit,

a man who lived among the tombs,

shackled in his madness,

but constantly breaking free of his chains

so he could run among the tombs and graves

howling day and night.

In saying, “let’s go across to the other side”,

Jesus was saying to his disciples,

“Follow me as I lead you into unfamiliar territory,

as I lead you away from the life you know,

the places you find comfortable.

Follow me as I lead you deeper into a life of discipleship

that you will often find challenging,

unsettling,

unnerving,

exhausting,

and even filled with risk to your very life”

When we say yes to Jesus

we are not accepting an invitation

to be part of an exclusive club,

a select community where life is always as serene as

an outing on lake on a windless day.

To say yes to Jesus,

is to say yes to the risky business of discipleship,

the unnerving business of following him,

following him to new and unfamiliar places;

Following him to serve,

to do ministry even where we’d really rather not go,

where we’d really rather not be,

with people we’d really rather avoid.

Harry Emerson Fosdick calls this

our invitation to “adventurous religion.”

Fosdick explains the term by reminding us    

that faith for the earliest followers of Jesus

“was a matter of personal venturesomeness.

It involved self-committal,

devotion,

loyalty,

courage.”

It was an invitation to a faith that was a “daring thing”,

or, to put it in more scriptural terms,

it was an invitation to a life of faith

that was “a mountain mover.”

        

That’s the faith you and I have been called to by Christ.

It is not something that is domesticated,

tamed,

bent to our will,

reformulated to fit our comfort,

our way of thinking,

our schedules,

our politics.

It is a faith that can and does have

its moments on glassy seas,

moments of calm,

of warmth in the sun.

But it is also faith in which we can find ourselves

rolling and pitching in a boat on a choppy sea,

the wind howling furiously,

pushing our boat through the waters

to the place Jesus is calling us to.

We all have a bit of Jonah in us:

we’re quick to turn from God’s call,

from Jesus’ invitation, “follow me”.

Where we differ from Jonah is that

we’re not as likely to run the other direction

as Jonah did.

Rather, we are more likely to be stubborn,

persistent in our refusal to accept the invitation

to get in the boat to cross to the other side,

saying to Jesus,

“You want me to get in the boat?

But it’s dark;

surely you don’t expect me to sail across the sea

in the pitch black?

And besides, where are we going?

How long will we be gone?

Do we have enough food?

Water?

Are you sure you really need me?”

                                            

Think of the audacity,

the venturesomeness of our Lord

in asking us to embrace a life of:

loving our enemies;

caring for the poor, the sick, the different;

repenting;

forgiving;

walking humbly and seeking justice;

a life of prayer.

Mission trips remind us of the adventure of faith.

To go off, even to the familiarity of Massanetta Springs,

or Meadowkirk,

or Montreat,

is still to go adventuring.

Our young people are venturing from home,

sailing off without knowing exactly what to expect

in their week away;

venturing off to meet new people,

to do work they don’t normally do,

all in the name of Jesus Christ.

Jesus is always calling us all to new places,

calling us to cross over from the comfortable

to the challenging,

from the familiar to the new,

from the present to the future.

Calling us to the place of beyond:

beyond what we would think or do

without him calling us,

inspiring us, leading us.

Even a tomb could not hold Jesus.

He rose and he moved on,

calling us to journey with him,

saying to us, “I am always going further,

and if you want my transforming friendship,

you must be prepared to travel.”

You and I must be prepared to travel anywhere,

everywhere.

(Leslie Weatherhead)

The poet Walt Whitman captured the life Jesus us calls us to

with these words:

“O we can wait no longer,

We too take ship O soul,

Joyous we too launch out on trackless seas,

Fearless for unknown shores on waves of ecstasy to sail

Amid the wafting winds…

Caroling free, singing our song to God.

…I with thee, and thou with me…

For we are bound where mariner has not yet dared to go,

And we will risk the ship, ourselves, and all.”

(Passage to India)

“Come,”

our Lord is saying to you and me even now;

“Let us go.”

AMEN