There’s a funny film called Galaxy Quest about some actors who used to star together in a science fiction TV show. The basis for the show was this seemingly endless journey through the galaxy. The actors played the members of the crew. The show was eventually cancelled, but not forgotten, and the cast members made a profitable living attending Galaxy Quest conventions. They would dress up as their characters and, for the benefit of fans, relive the glory days, sign autographs, do promotional stunts, and such.
One day they are approached at one of these events by a group of people who call themselves Thermians. They are dressed strangely, but that’s not unusual for Galaxy Quest fans. They ask the cast members for help, which the cast assumes to mean that they want to hire them for some event. No problem. They agree to meet them the next day. But when they do, they discover that these Thermians are not just really intense fans – they are real aliens. From another planet. They have a real spaceship and they are fighting real enemies.
The Thermians have picked up episodes by satellite of the old TV show, which they assume are historical documentaries – they don’t know from scripted TV shows. The Thermians have seen the Galaxy Quest cast foil enemy after enemy, and they have complete confidence that they can help them against their enemies.
The members of the cast, of course, think their confidence is misplaced. Why in the world would anyone think these actors could actually fight a galactic battle? Yet, somehow, that’s what is asked of them. So, you know what? they do it.
It’s a funny story about being called to something that you would never in a million years think you were equipped to do. They could play at it, they were good at that; they did it week after week. But when confronted with an authentic call to serve, the real thing, they were overwhelmed, brought to their knees, by their own inadequacy.
Much like Isaiah, when the Seraphim appeared before him with their six wings, flying about and singing, “holy, holy, holy.” The Lord also was there, on his throne; the hem of his robe filled the temple, so enormous did he appear. The room shook, the house filled with smoke. And Isaiah was terrified.
“Woe is me! I am lost, for I am a man of unclean lips.” He knew himself to be unworthy of whatever would be asked of him. This is the story of the call of the prophet Isaiah, a young man who wasn’t expecting to be asked anything extraordinary that day, but found himself called to be the prophet to Judah in a time of dire circumstances.
Perhaps Isaiah had a moment, as he stood in the magnificent temple, surrounded by flying, screaming, inhuman creatures, of thinking this was a case of mistaken identity. Perhaps the thought crossed his mind that he was in the wrong place at the wrong time. Surely, these Seraphim and the Lord almighty were expecting someone else. Not Isaiah.
Call stories often have that quality. In Luke’s gospel, we see the same reaction from Peter as Jesus approaches him in his boat. He is tired. He has just come in after a long and fruitless night of fishing when he is approached by Jesus. No Seraphim or smoke, no throne of God in the picture. Just this strange man telling him he should push out into the deep again. For some reason Peter doesn’t tell him to take a hike. Weary as he is, he does as he is asked.
When they are out in deep water, Jesus tells Peter to cast his nets. Again, Peter feels this is a waste of time and he says so. But, strangely, he does just as he has been asked to do.
No winged creatures, no heavenly song – just nets full to bursting; just a catch so big it sinks the boats. In its own way, this very earthy event is otherworldly. Who has ever seen such a thing? And why has Peter, this poor fisherman, been chosen for it?
Why does God call the people God calls? Why does God choose the ones God chooses? Not because they are worthy.
“Go away from me, Lord, for I am a sinful man!” This is what Peter says in response to the wonderful catch of fish. Here is a catch valuable enough that he wouldn’t have to work for the rest of the month, at least, but what he feels is neither joy nor gratitude. What he feels is fear. And an acute awareness of his own unworthiness.
How is it possible that he, Peter, could be in the company of such greatness? Not possible! Go away from me, he says.
It makes me wonder about all the call stories we have in the scriptures – Abraham, Moses, Isaiah, Jeremiah, Peter, Paul, and so on. I wonder if it’s possible that for every one of these there are a dozen more stories in which some poor guy is called and he runs away terrified. I wonder of there were ten other guys who saw the Seraphim with their two wings covering their faces, two wings covering their feet, then covered their ears with their hands and shouted, “Uh-uh, not me. I can’t hear you!”
What do you think you would do?
You wouldn’t be alone if you felt unworthy of being called by God. You would be in the company of saints and prophets, because it actually takes wisdom to recognize your own unworthiness. A fellow preacher once told me she doesn’t worry about the people who feel unworthy of the call; but she does worry about the ones who feel worthy. Because who on earth is worthy of being called to God’s work?
That is the good news for today. You are not worthy. You are no more worthy than Isaiah was worthy or Peter was worthy. Yet you are chosen, just as they were chosen.
This brings us to the obvious question – chosen for what? What were you and I chosen to do? Let’s take another look at the story of Peter.
When Jesus called Peter, his reaction was this: what you are asking me to do is unreasonable. What you are asking me to do is unnecessary. It is tiresome, it is futile. But he did it anyway.
When Peter did as Jesus asked him to do, what happened was this: his nets overflowed. Where Peter assumed nothing good would happen because nothing good had happened before, he discovered that when he followed the command of the Lord, good things beyond his imagination would happen.
This is what it is to be the church. We are nothing more than ordinary people who have just happened to stumble into the presence of the holy – not by our own wits; we did not find God, God found us. We have been confronted with our own unworthiness, which may not be fun, but is good for the soul. We have been called to serve God in serving the world God loves, and when we do as we have been called to do, we find that good things can happen beyond our imaginations.
The scriptures show us time and again that the glorious things of life do not come from human initiative, but they come from the imagination of God, who calls, forgives, blesses and equips us to be the painters of God’s glorious vision.
So, I urge you, take the call. Balk, if you must, but take the call. Know your own unworthiness, but stick around for the forgiveness which will come as surely as day follows night. Trust in the power of God to make glorious things happen through us, you and I, the church of Jesus Christ – because, quite simply, this is what it is to be the church.
