Covenant United Methodist Church

Matthew 4:12-23

“Drop Everything”

January 22, 2012

Church history is a weird mix of theology, politics, economics, personalities, and the Holy Spirit.  Let me tell you about a man named Ambrose, whose life is a good example of that.  He was born around the year 340.  His father was the governor of the province of Gaul, which is modern France.  Ambrose grew up to follow in his father’s footsteps, and by the time he was around thirty years old, he was governor of what is now northern Italy, and that included the city of Milan, which had become a second capital for the western half of the empire.

Milan, like a lot of the Roman empire, was bogged down in religious controversy.  On one side were the orthodox Christians who accept the outlines of the Nicene Creed, that Jesus was the Son of God in a way that we do not fully understand but that he had been with God from eternity and would be with God throughout eternity because he and the Father and the Holy Spirit are one.   On the other side were the Arian Christians, who claim that the Son was created by the Father at some point, and is in some way inferior to the Father.  There are serious matters at stake here.  If Jesus was not God, and here I state the side that Christianity finally came down on, then he would not have been able to unite human nature and divine nature in such a way as to bring salvation.

Unfortunately, these questions had become mixed up with the secular politics of the Empire.  The bishop of a given city was often as powerful, or even more powerful, than the official politicians, and as emperors came and went they appointed or deposed bishops to consolidate their own positions.  In 355, an Arian emperor deposed the orthodox bishop and sent him into exile, replacing him with a man from the eastern, Greek-speaking half of the empire who did not even speak Latin like the people of Milan.  Things were messy for the next nineteen years, when he died.  Finally there was a chance for an orthodox bishop, who maybe even understood the people.  There were folks who had a vested interest in maintaining the status quo, however, and who were not about to give up easily.

So the time came to elect the new bishop of Milan and, as was done at the time, the people of the city would gather together at the cathedral for the election.  In other words, two factions that had been fighting over control of the city were to be brought together in one place, as a large crowd.  It was like piling leaves up near hot charcoal.

The governor of the province, with his headquarters in the city, was called upon to keep the peace.  So Ambrose went into the middle of this riot waiting to happen and delivered a speech that had nothing to do with who should become the new bishop, but everything to do with the importance of civility and respect for the law.  Somewhere in the middle of his speech someone in the crowd, according to legend, shouted, “Ambrose for bishop!”  Next thing anyone knew, people from both sides were shouting, “Ambrose for bishop!”

There were several problems with this.  For one, he was already governor; he had a job that the emperor had given him.  Moreover, Ambrose had never even been baptized.  A lot of people at that time, especially politicians and soldiers, waited until late in life to be baptized in case they were asked to do things that a Christian should not do.  (There are lots of problems with that attitude, mind you, but it was how they thought.)  So here were the crowds shouting to have him as their bishop, the only possible person who could bring peace after two generations of trouble.  So what did Ambrose, the eloquent speaker, the powerful, mighty governor of a Roman province, with the Roman legions at his back and at his command – what did Ambrose do?  He ran away.  He tried to hide out.

The emperor, who was an Arian, ordered him out of hiding and ordered him to accept his election.  Eight days later, he had been baptized, ordained a deacon, ordained a priest, and consecrated as a bishop.  He then proceeded, as bishop, to oppose the policies of the emperor who had insisted on his acceptance of the people’s election.  He also proceeded to become a top-notch theologian, a spectacular preacher, a magnificent administrator, and the writer of hymns that we sing to this day.

“O splendor of God’s glory bright,

O thou that bringest light from light;

O Light of light, light’s living spring,

O day, all days illumining!

O thou true Sun, on us thy glance

Let fall in royal radiance;

The Spirit’s sanctifying beam

Upon our earthly senses stream.”[1]

So what does any of this have to do with the gospel reading this morning?  Only this: that there are times when the call of Christ rings loud and clear, the way it did for the first disciples, who dropped their nets and left their boats and followed.  There are times when people are called to let go suddenly of things that they had planned or hoped.  There are times when life takes a sudden turn for the sake of the gospel.

Not everybody will hear the challenge the same way.  For some people, there might be a quiet, yet insistent, pressure on their soul that says, “He’s calling to you.  Go.”  For some people, there might be a relative or friend who offers an invitation to faith, or to some particular avenue of service.  The great hymn-writer Isaac Watts got into the business as a teenager because his father got sick of hearing him complain about how boring he considered the metrical psalms they sang in church and said something to the effect of, “Well, if you think you can do better, let’s see you do it.”

Time and time again, God has done wonders through the followers of Jesus who, hearing his call upon their lives, dropped everything and followed, not knowing where it would lead, but trusting the one who called.

“As he walked by the Sea of Galilee, he saw two brothers, Simon, who is called Peter, and Andrew his brother, casting a net into the sea – for they were fishermen.  And he said to them, ‘Follow me, and I will make you fish for people.’  And immediately they left their nets and followed him.  As he went from there, he saw two other brothers, James son of Zebedee and his brother John, in the boat with their father Zebedee, mending their nets, and he called them.  Immediately they left the boat and their father, and followed him.” [Matthew 4:18-22]

As Matthew was sitting in his tax office, Jesus called him and said, “Follow me.”  As Mary Magdalene stood crying outside the tomb where he had been buried, Jesus called to her, “Mary!”  As a Roman governor was trying to calm an angry mob, Jesus called to him, “Ambrose, follow me.”  As Isaac Watts argued with his father, Jesus called to him, “Follow me.”

As you sit down to your cereal in the morning and suddenly realize that there are people within a mile of you whose bowls will be empty, Jesus calls to you, “Follow me.”  As you lay down in peace at night, and hear your neighbors arguing, Jesus calls to you, “Follow me.”  As you look around you at the way the world works and say, “Somebody should do something about that,” Jesus calls, “Follow me.”

Listen closely, so closely to your own life.  What do you hear?