I decided to speak in English, mostly because I had only just found out a few days beforehand I would be doing this, and I preferred to devote my time and energy to working on the content, not the language (i.e., Russian). Also, I thought it would be a bit "exotic" and thus interesting to a lot of the young people, especially those who could follow some English and would enjoy the challenge. Finally, I also considered it advantageous to present the message, as it were, in "stereo", the second voice being that of a much younger person, and of the "fairer sex", so as to increase the "identification quotient," as opposed to just being a lone old codger up there at the pulpit. And I really do think that helped!
A few times I broke intentionally into Russian. Where I did that will be plain here. I include a transliteration, in Latin letters, of what I said in Russian, with the English next to or under it in parentheses. Before getting into the message at all I did say a few introductory words in Russian, so they were prepared for the fact that I could speak Russian!
In 1
Corinthians 9:16, the apostle Paul says, “Woe to me if I do not preach the
gospel!’ Paul was called to preach
the Gospel. When we hear the word “calling”, we think of service. To answer God’s calling means to serve Him. Yes, that’s
true. But allow me to add another side, another aspect, to that: Calling means
not only service; calling means change.
When we answer God’s call, we change.
And in God’s plan, to change means to grow,
and to grow means to become like Jesus
Christ—in concrete ways through obeying His commands. Paul could just as
easily have said, “Woe to me if I do not become like Jesus Christ!”
But, one of you may object, “Wait! Being an
apostle, or a traveling evangelist, isn’t the only way to become like Jesus
Christ!” Perfectly correct. What I
mean is, the only way to become like Jesus Christ is to answer God’s special calling in your life, whatever that may be—we are all different.
“Woe is
me,” said the apostle, “if I do not preach the gospel.” Yes indeed, woe to him,
because if he stopped proclaiming the message of Jesus, then the whole meaning
and richness of his existence would disappear. If Paul stopped evangelizing, he
would stop knowing Christ, because for
Paul, to know Christ was to be His
apostle.
We are not
all called to be evangelists or preachers. But—we
are all called. Perhaps one day you
will say, “Woe is me if I do not adopt an orphan; woe is me if I do not feed
the poor; woe is me if I do not witness to my coworkers; woe is me if I do not
use my writing skills for God; if I don’t sing for God; if I don’t comfort the
suffering; woe is me if I don’t learn sign language and minister to the deaf;
woe is me if I don’t go to serve Christ in Mongolia, or Nepal, or Peru… or a
small village in Ukraine.” No matter what
your calling may be, you can say, “Woe is me if
I don’t do it, because then I won’t know the fullness and richness
my life should have in Christ.”
And
whatever may be your personal calling from God, you can be sure of this: your
calling will require you to change
and develop, and grow into the likeness
of Christ—that you change in concrete ways that you cannot imagine ahead of time. Let me emphasize that:
life cannot be fully experienced
simply on the level of imagination. You cannot know life simply as... predvkusheniye (anticipation, foretaste). Christ didn’t save us by thinking about dying on the cross. Paul
didn’t simply dream how wonderful it
would be if Gentiles across Asia came to Christ. No. Life must be lived in action, and the fruit of action is your becoming—your concrete becoming what
you could never have been if you had not answered the call of God.
Calling is
not an idea. Calling is a crisis. You know what the word “crisis” means? It
comes from a Greek verb that means “to judge”, “to discern”. A crisis is a
turning point; it is a moment of decision. Calling is a crisis, and it changes our lives, and changes us, radically. Paradoxically, this
crisis also reveals what we really are, in our deepest nature—the nature that
God designed from the very beginning.
Paradoxically,
the more we change under God’s true
plan, the further we enter into our true character. But if we reject calling
because we’re afraid of change, we will lose even what we were trying to keep.
Let’s look
at Acts 9:1-2 (read).
This
Pharisee Paul was eager, zealous, ambitious. He had aspirations, expectations
of becoming something—a great
Pharisee and teacher in Israel; of becoming
one of the great champions of God’s Law.
Listen
carefully: Paul believed he was doing
right. I think he would have announced without apology that his heart was
full of righteous anger and holy hatred at these followers of Jesus. And here
is the stunning thing: Paul was catastrophically
wrong and horribly deceived.
Believing he was conducting a holy war for God’s Law, Paul was actually
committing an unspeakable evil. Isn’t it amazing that people can think they’re so right when they’re so wrong? Such is the dreadful
consequence of sin. But how great God’s love is, that He looks deeper than our
sin to see our need.
And this
divine love appeared to Paul on the road to Damascus, in a burst of light: (read Acts 9:3-6).
“Who are you, Lord?” This Paul, who one day stood nearby
and approved the killing of Stephen, and this Paul who went to Damascus to
destroy anyone who professed the name of Jesus, this Paul now confesses his blindness and his ignorance: “Who are you,
Lord?” The man who knew everything now knows that he knows nothing. This is change.
This is the indispensible requirement of calling. It is painful when it is
happening, but it is good and necessary.
And I want
you to look at verse 20, because something most significant is hidden in the
verse. It is hidden openly, transparently, because it’s right in front of our
eyes but we don’t pay attention to it because we read the verse so quickly: “…and immediately he began to proclaim Jesus
in the synagogues, saying, ‘He is the Son of God.’”
What is significant here?
This is the earliest description of the content of Paul’s preaching; this is
the essence of his gospel, especially as he preached it to the Jews. And what
does this “essence” consist of? That Jesus
is the Son of God. For Paul, the revolutionary
revelation is not so much that Jesus is the Christ, but that Christ is the Son of God. Paul always expected that
some day some man would be the Christ, but he never expected that the Christ would be the Son of God! This has changed everything for Paul.
Change. Upon the revelation of
the Son of God, Paul’s whole world changed—and so Paul had to change; he was called
to change, to grow to live in Christ.
This is what calling means.
A part of this chapter where
I glimpse a very subtle bit of humor is in verses 26-31 (read). Again, this is
a part you can read quickly without noticing significant details. As soon as
Barnabas convinced the church in Jerusalem that Paul was a genuine believer,
Paul started preaching like fire all over town. The text doesn’t tell us that
he converted anybody, but it does tell us that a plot arose to kill him! And
what did the Church do? Did the Church say to Paul, “Get ready—now you will
offer up your life as a martyr to God like Stephen did”? No. The Church decided
it would be better for everyone if this young, fiery, confrontational new
convert left town and went home to Tarsus for a while. “And then the church had peace throughout Judea, Galilee and Samaria”—whew! peace!—“and it
became stronger and grew”—what? How can that be?! Yes, dear
young brother Paul, without you the church had peace, and became stronger, and grew. Imagine that!
Calling. Calling doesn’t mean we
will always be the managers of our own affairs. It doesn’t mean: “From now on,
it’s just me and the Holy Spirit, and I don’t need anybody’s advice!” No. If
calling means that we are accessible and susceptible to the sound of God’s
voice and direction of His will, then it also
means we are open to the human
channels through whom God will work in our lives. Even more, it means we must
be sensitive, ready to perceive that
God is telling us something through people. Calling means not just calling to
serve, but calling to learn.
One of the things we
learn when we submit to God’s calling is, we learn who we really are. It is
important to know who you really are. Why? Because then you know what you are
offering to God! The more you know who you really are, the better you can truly
offer yourself to God.
I like to teach, and I
think I’m not the worst teacher in the world. In fact, on occasion… if I’ve had
a good night’s sleep and a good breakfast… I’ve been known to teach pretty
well. Not every time that I teach is like a glorious mountaintop experience, but there are some special moments when my students and I together feel truth
opening itself up to us with its almost shattering power. Those are truly peak
moments, the kind that remind me again that teaching is my calling – even if I don’t always love it. I will tell you a secret
about myself: I’m not an extrovert; I’m an introvert. It is always difficult for me, even painful,
to get up in front of an audience. No, I don’t just mean that I get nervous. We
all get nervous about things sometimes—but in fact I didn’t feel nervous at all
about speaking to you this morning. No, I’m talking about something different.
I mean quite literally that is painfully uncomfortable for me to stand in front
of an audience. And yet, I am called to teach! Woe is me if I don’t teach!
Khotya, gore mne dazhe
yesli ya prepodayu!
(Though, woe is me even
if I do teach!)
V lyubom sluchaye, gore.
(Woe, regardless.)
Gore byvayet v zhyzni.
(In life, woe happens.)
Our Lord knew woe. But to
experience woe in the fulfillment of God’s calling is to sow with tears and
bring in a harvest with rejoicing.
When I came to Zaporozhye
in February of 1995—that’s over 19 years ago!—I didn’t know that I was called
to teach. I only knew I was called to
Ukraine. I didn’t even come here with
the intention of associating with the Bible college. The founders of the Bible
college worked for one mission and I worked for a different one; we didn’t come
here together. But when I got to Zaporozhye they asked me to help teach
English, and I agreed. But to me that wasn’t really a “teaching ministry”—I was
just helping. So when did the “great revelation” come to me that I must teach
for Christ? It would be very interesting, of course, if I could tell you I saw
a vision or heard a voice from heaven. But what really happened was this:
It was a Wednesday and the
college was expecting an American guest to arrive on Friday to start teaching a
course on Monday. On Wednesday this American brother wrote us to say he had broken
his leg and couldn’t come. So Mark, the college director, handed me a textbook
and said, “You have to teach this course starting Monday.” I was horrified! It’s
what we call in English a baptism in fire.
But you know what? When I
began doing this, I slowly discovered that I liked it, that the students
reacted well, that they really learned
something (!) and seemed to appreciate my work. In short, I discovered I was a teacher. I had to come to Ukraine, at
the age of 37, to find myself—because when you answer God’s calling on your
life, you certainly find yourself.
Such a discovery will
bring the unexpected, even the unpleasant, and will often contradict what we
assumed about ourselves.
Young Paul assumed that
his calling simply meant that, if before he was fiery and zealous against Jesus, now he should simply be
fiery and zealous for Jesus. Yes, a
big change in his official position, but fundamentally the same character and
approach to his task. Imagine his perplexity, his befuddlement, when the Church
said to him, “Paul, you know what you need to do now? You need to get out of
town, go home, and be quiet for a
while.”
Calling doesn’t only
change what we do, it changes who we are, and most of all it convinces us, to
the deepest part of our souls, that we
no longer sit on the throne of our lives, and that the most important question
is not what we’re comfortable with, or what we like, or even what we
understand. The most important question is: “Shto povelish’ mne delat’?” (“What
will You have me do?”- Acts 22:10)
Before I came to Ukraine
I was a pastor in America—that was my work—and I loved my church and I think
they loved me! But a time came when I knew I had to go to Ukraine. It was
clearly God’s direction. I wasn’t in control, God was. My heart was broken as I
prepared to leave my country, my family, my friends, my church and everything
that was familiar and comfortable to me—including my language! My family and
friends were heartbroken, too. I felt very guilty
for putting them through such pain. I remember one friend really was irritated with me, because he saw how
sad I was, and he said, “You have such a happy life here, you love your work,
you have close friends—why are you ruining
it by going away?” And I could only say, “I must. That’s all. I must. God is
doing this.”
There was a multitude of good reasons to stay home
in America. There was only one little
reason to come to Ukraine: calling.
Shto povelish’ mne delat’?
(What will You have me
do?)
Calling changes
everything, beginning with yourself. And when you answer God’s call, you will
find yourself like never before.
The last thing I want to
say now about calling is this: Calling brings chapters into your life—beginnings, endings and new beginnings. In
Acts 14:8-20 (we won’t read the whole thing here now) we read about Paul and
Barnabas in Lystra. What they experienced there brought them, it seems to me,
to the close of a chapter in their lives. Barnabas was something like a mentor
to Paul. He was the first believer in Jerusalem who trusted Paul after Paul’s
conversion, and he introduced Paul to the apostles. After Paul had been back in
Tarsus for some time, it was Barnabas who went to find him and bring him back
to Antioch, so Paul could see the great things God was doing there among the Gentiles.
“Barnabas was a good man, full of the Holy Spirit and strong in faith.” He was
like a father to Paul, and the two of them were sent together as a team to
evangelize the world.
But when they came to
Lystra, things began to change. Before this, Luke the writer of Acts constantly
says, “Paul and Barnabas, Paul and Barnabas, Paul and Barnabas” when he talks
about them. Suddenly, in Lystra, Luke says, “Paul”. It was Paul who took
the initiative to tell a crippled man to stand up, and the man was healed.
Very interestingly, Paul
and Barnabas receive two extreme reactions from one and the same city, Lystra.
First, they are received as gods in the most enthusiastic reception they ever got anywhere—and it was a
reception they didn’t want! (It’s also interesting to me that the people of
Lystra thought Barnabas was the greater god, Zeus, and Paul was just his
messenger Hermes!) And the same people
accorded to Paul the opposite extreme
not much later by trying to stone him to
death!
And here is what
indicates that something has changed, that a chapter is ending: they stoned
only Paul, not “Paul and Barnabas”. Let’s read 14:19-20.
“But
Jews came there from Antioch and Iconium and won over the crowds. Then they
stoned Paul and dragged him out of the city, supposing that he was dead. But when the disciples surrounded him, he got up and went
into the city. The next day he went on with Barnabas to Derbe.”
Who do we see rising up
from the road, as if from the dead, and walking adamantly back into Lystra?
Paul and Barnabas? No. We see Paul—and his
disciples with him. Barnabas isn’t
even mentioned. It is Paul who not
only has been stoned by the Lystrans, but Paul who now leads the disciples back into
the city. Something has changed. Paul has entered a new dimension as a man
and apostle. And the time for Barnabas’ special ministry in Paul’s life is
clearly coming to an end, even if the two of them didn’t fully realize it. A
chapter is quickly closing. Very soon after this, as we all know, Paul and
Barnabas separated—on a superficial level the cause was a difference of opinion
about letting Mark join them on a missionary voyage, but the real, the intrinsic reason was that it was time; change was necessary for both
Paul and Barnabas because a chapter had ended.
It was time for them both to go and fulfill their callings separately. Barnabas
could no longer play the old role in Paul’s life. Perhaps if both Paul and
Barnabas had understood this better,
they wouldn’t have argued but would have separated in peace.
Calling means change, growth and chapters in
our lives, as we discern what God wants,
do what God directs, and discover who we really are in God’s great,
glorious plan. Don’t be afraid of
change, don’t be afraid of chapters
ending and chapters beginning, and DON’T be afraid of… CALLING.
Shto povelish’ mne delat’?
What would You have me do?
Open your hearts to whatever God will answer.
