A slight disclaimer: What follows is the basic text (minus the occasional digressions) of a sermon
that I preached at Comox United Church, Comox, B.C. on January 30, 2022. It is not an essay. It is
written to be spoken and in a manner that reflects my preaching style, which I suspect might be
described as “informal.” Nor does it have the full assortment of citations, acknowledgements, and
footnotes normally (and quite reasonably) expected in a more formal work. Please forgive the
grammatical peculiarities!
Blessings
Phil Spencer
Matthew 11:28-30 “Always Apprentices”
My friend and colleague, Deb, has been referencing inspirational quotes, “epiphanies” as it were, in her last two sermons here, and so I thought I might follow her example this morning. It’s a quote from the pastor and teacher, Francis Chan, who observed that, The world says love yourself, grab all you can, follow your heart. Jesus says deny yourself, grab your cross and follow me.” If you find there’s a bit of an “ouch” to that comment—me too—but like Deb’s quote of Desmond Tutu a couple of weeks back, it’s a pinch that is very much at the heart of what we’re about in the Church. Let me unpack that.
There was a time when it was advised that in polite conversation you should avoid talking about three things: sex, religion, and politics. However, to follow that advice in church life in general, and preaching in particular, following that advice would severely limit us, sex, religion, and politics being rather important elements of our lives. A faith that avoids the issues that confront us day-to-day would seem to be pointless, artificial; at least so it seems to me, anyway. On the other hand, experience suggests to me that there are some preaching subjects that aren’t necessarily crowd favourites beyond the announcement of a 48-week series on The Book of Leviticus.
Okay, I’m now formally issuing an old joke warning. It’s the chestnut about the newly ordained minister who, arriving at her new church, hit the ground running, preaching her first sermon on the sin of gambling. She was fierce, and passionate, and compelling, and she clearly had judged her audience well, because there were lots of “Amens” throughout—a homiletical winner! Buoyed by the response, the following week she focused on the sin of whiskey and drink, which provoked even more head nodding and “Amens” amongst the faithful. She was on fire now, so on week three she focused to the sin of gossip. It was … crickets. And then—from out of the silence of the assembly— there was a murmur: “She’s stopped preaching and gone to meddling!"
Yes, I’ve found there are indeed a few subjects in our end of the church that can provoke the impression of “meddling.” For example, there’s nothing like the look of joy on people’s faces when the preacher announces that she’s about to embark on a 4- week series on stewardship, our in-house term for the subject of how we use our resources including, yep, money. And that’s usually the thing that catches, right? Remembering the wise observation that, “where your treasure is, there your heart will be also”1 … well, it can seem a little close to home, sometimes. It certainly does for me.
Likewise, I’ve seen that mentioning the “E-word” in some church circles—that is, “evangelism”—can very much provoke a “skunk at the wedding” moment, the understanding being that new Christians spontaneously appear without (somehow) ever having heard anyone mention to them Jesus and the kingdom of God. But let’s save that rich and troubling subject for another Sunday!
I’ve also observed that discussing the word “disciple” and “discipleship” can have the same effect on some church members, which was initially kind of puzzling to me because it seems to me that the Church has been, and remains, very much in the disciple business. If last words mean something—and I think they can—then Jesus’ last words to his followers might be worth a thought. According to the Gospel writer Matthew and Luke, the writer of the Book of Acts—those words were that we make, and we grow disciples, and to send them out into the world. Disciples-are-us! Disciple is a term that suggests serious commitment, and as my old friend from St. George’s in years gone by, Jim Massey, said during a sermon at one of our Presbytery meetings (I never thought I’d miss those things, but I do, strangely enough), that people don’t come to church each week to be less committed, but to become more committed. I sometimes think that we short-change ourselves by limiting ourselves to using the language of “member,” a perfectly good term that the Apostle Paul used most effectively. The problem is that—as the expression goes—"membership has its privileges,” and the most conspicuous privilege of being a member of the Body of Christ is, as Chan said, is deny ourselves, grabbing our crosses, and following where Jesus goes.
But really, I suspect that a part of the reticence that I’ve encountered about exploring the notion of discipleship can be attributed to some real abuses of the term and the practice of discipling and discipleship in some parts of the Body of Christ, and there’s no denying that this has indeed happened, sadly enough. Maybe it’s like the use of the word “saint” to describe the imperfect faithful, it just seems to be a little grand for many of us, perhaps even a bit pretentious. To use the term “disciple” to describe ourselves seems to invite a case of imposter syndrome, asks for a “Who … me?” response. “I’m just a member” or “I’m simply searching” or “I like the [fill in the blank] program,” the unspoken part being, “I’m not worthy of that term.” “I’m not anywhere on par to the 12 disciples” or “I’m not like the Mary’s” or “I’m not comparable to those people who followed Jesus around Galilee.” Or even, “I’m not brave like they were,” or “I don’t believe enough like them.” A thought about that. They weren’t so grand either, as a fair reading of the New Testament and an examination of the history of the early church shows us. They were no less flawed than we are and being a disciple doesn’t mean perfection, or even suggest particular competence. It simply means being “follower.” About following, Jesus was unrelenting. A read through the Gospels reveals him constantly speaking about:
1. This thing he referred to as “the Kingdom of God”
2. Regularly calling for his hearers to “follow me.”
Follow me and we’ll fish for people.2 Remember that one? How about: follow me and let the dead bury the dead.3 Or as Jesus passed beside the improbable and wretched tax collector Matthew who was sitting in his tax collecting booth, saying, “follow me,” and sure enough, Matthew promptly got up and followed. 4 Or the oft quoted, “If you want to be my followers, take up your cross and follow me.” 5 Or how about the difficult and demanding, “Sell your possessions, and give the money to the poor, and you’ll have treasure in heaven; then come, follow me.” 6 Those quotes are all just from Matthew’s Gospel—it’s something repeated in the other three, and especially so in John—and so it appears to have been a most regular refrain in Jesus’ preaching. This inbreaking of the Kingdom of God was connected to the notion of following, of choosing to be a disciple of Christ and living that out in a certain way. Discipleship is one of the ways the Kingdom shimmers into the world’s view. But if the term still catches you, still seems a touch beyond reach, then let me propose another description that might be helpful, and that term is apprentice.
I first started to get my head around this some years ago when my former colleague, Dianne Collery began leading what she called, “the apprentice group” which is an approach formulated by James Bryan Smith, a theologian and teacher who published an excellent series of highly accessible books on spiritual formation, the names of which I’m happy to share with any who are interested.7 It was a very well-received program she used in the church to help members grow—not just in knowledge—but also in incorporating the things we say we believe into one’s day-to-day life. It was unapologetically about apprenticing, learning on the way, growing by practicing.
Traditionally, apprenticing has been a way of passing on knowledge and skills through a combination of classroom work and on-the-job/in-the-field training, during which time the student, the apprentice, contributes to the enterprise they’re working at. It’s not only theory—it’s hands on. This goes on for a number of years until the apprentice reaches a level of competence and they’re licensed in some way to go it alone, having achieved the station of journeyman, (I’m not sure of an inclusive term in use today) a qualified craftsperson. They may even reach a status where they (and I’ll use the term that I know for some has some baggage associated with it) they become known as a “master” of their profession. It’s now simply second nature to them, similar to the competence of the virtuoso musician who has total command of their instrument. The traditional trades have done apprenticeship successfully for centuries and other professions have subsequently embraced the idea as well. For example, after his years of law school, my son articled—essentially apprenticed—as one of his final steps to becoming a lawyer. New-minted medical doctors intern, experience hands-on, but supervised clinical practice, before they’re let loose. Internship is a term and a practice that our end of the church picked up and employ with those entering some forms of ministry and so I got to work closely with much more experience pastors before I was ordained. Our Anglican kinfolk will often appoint new clergy as curates, who work alongside more experienced pastors to “learn the moves,” as it were, to apprentice.
But, as my wife is wont to say, “Here’s the thing.” In the Christian faith we apprentice, but we never achieve mastery, do we? In fact, whenever we tell ourselves that we’ve finally got it, it’s usually a hint that we’re about to be over our heads in some way. As you’ve heard me muse before, if we find ourselves saying, “Don’t worry about this one, God; I’ve got it,” we can be fairly sure that the wheels are about to fall off the proverbial wagon. In the Christian faith we’re always apprentices, which is why we’re wise to take our cues from the One we follow by being a close as possible.
This brings me to our text from Matthew chapter 11. Jesus has just spoken a word of judgement over those who reject his message—and they’re really hard words—but then he shifts into prayer, a prayer that reveals an unheard-of intimacy with God showing a familiarity that was akin to that found between a loving parent and child. The prayer is one of thanksgiving and affection for those who are around him, those who are his disciples, the ones who’ve heard the call and followed, his apprentices, and surely enigmatically to those overhearing him, he claims a role in their very relationship with God. This is an unheard of exceptional claim, one that would shock his hearers.
Then his attention turns quite suddenly to those listening and you may have noticed that I chose to use the rendering of this passage by Eugene Peterson in his modern translation, The Message. I did that because Peterson rather gloriously (at least in my opinion) lifts up the immensely personal nature of what Jesus is saying, and it’s clear that the intimacy he has with God is there for apprentices, too. In the NRSV which I normally use, it reads, “Come to me, all you that are weary and are carrying heavy burdens, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me ….”
But hear again The Message interpretation:
Are you tired? Worn out? Burned out on religion? Come to me. Get away with me and you’ll recover your life. I’ll show you how to take a real rest. Walk with me and work with me—watch how I do it.
That’s the relationship of the master and the apprentice, but it’s a relationship that isn’t simply an arrangement to exchange knowledge and skill, but it’s to share life. Come close and work right beside me. I’ll show you how to do it and you’ll find life. Or as Jesus says elsewhere in the 10th chapter of John’s Gospel, “I came that they may have life, and have it abundantly.”8 Not so coincidentally, that’s not too many verses after he speaks about the importance of—yes—following.
As you know, Deb and I are choosing to preach thematically for a spell and so, you might reasonably ask why did I choose this specific passage for this week? I chose this passage because it seemed appropriate to our situation at present, which is, as you know, evolving quickly. We’re obviously in a time of transition as we do the work of assessing and clarifying our mission and vision and pondering about where we think God is calling us. A healthy church is always attempting to discern that—it’s not a “one-of”—it’s a regular feature of our work and as you also probably know from experience, it’s God’s habit to give us just what we need for the next step. and not too much more.
It’s akin to something a friend of mine likes to say: “God’s never late, but God’s also never early.” Stay close, pay attention! My hunch is that God works this way because it demands that we follow closely, and not try to travel too far ahead.
Just as last week Deb indicated that we potentially have some rough water in front of us and like more than a few churches attempting to resume something close to normal operation coming out of the pandemic, we have some financial challenges ahead. We also have the task of beginning the search for new pastoral leadership as we say farewell to our sister, Keltie, who has needed to leave her position here. And yes, that will be something we will be having conversation about in the weeks ahead. But another—and I’d say more immediately pressing issue—is our lay leadership. Again, as Deb indicated last week—and my sense is that, like other congregations I know, the pandemic has played a massive role in this—but sustaining lay leadership has been difficult. We have some significant empty spots in our leadership roles and in our committee structure, and they’re needing to be addressed if we’re to move forward in the healthiest way. As you may already know, we’ll be having our Annual General Meeting in a couple of weeks and we will be seeking to fill an assortment of key positions, positions critical to the future health of the congregation. We have a group of people here who are working hard to discern who might be a fit for those roles. If you have a sense of call to one of them, please let us know. That’s one of the ways God is known to work powerfully amongst us: through that still, small voice within each of us. But I’d also like to encourage those of you who will be asked and find yourselves responding with a “What? Who, me?” You will not be asked randomly or in desperation or to simply fill in a blank on the organizational flow chart. That’s not the way it works. You’ll be asked because there is seen in you something that has stirred and quickened our hearts. And here it is: we’re not looking for anyone but apprentices, those who will not move too far from the One who has all the expertise we’ll ever need. Leadership is simply an element of followership in the Body of Christ and we’re especially needing some right now as we move forward.
And so don’t fret—we’ve been promised that together, we’ll learn the unforced rhythms of grace. It won’t heavy or ill-fitting. Just keep company with Jesus, and together we’ll live freely and lightly. Just … follow. Let us pray …
Holy One, we’re seeking your leading in this time of transition. We know that our own resources aren’t enough, but that we need your Spirit amongst us so that we might be receptive to change and growth. Strengthen our hearts so we may be willing to offer ourselves in joyful service to you, and to our neighbours so in need of your good news.
Amen.
1 Matthew 6:21 2 Matthew 4:19
3 Matthew 8:22
4 Matthew 9:9
5 Matthew 16:24
6 Matthew 19:21
7 James Bryan Smith, The Good and Beautiful God, The Good and Beautiful Life, and The Good and Beautiful Community.
8 John 10:10