“O Lord, please let me go fishing soon. Help me catch a lot of fish and one really big one.”

I loved to fish when I was a kid and for a long time that was my nightly prayer. Every night I’d cast that prayer to God hoping he (back then God was a he) would bite and I could reel him into my life just like the fish I wanted him to help me catch. 

It may not have been about fishing but I wouldn’t be surprised if you’ve prayed like that too. I wouldn’t be surprised if you’ve tried to make the story of Jesus fit into the story of your life. I wouldn’t be surprised if that’s the default for many of us. Here’s an example of what I mean by that.

How many of you have been to a meeting that began with a prayer along these lines, “Dear God, please be with us”? We all have. It’s how we often begin our meetings. But how many of you have been to a meeting that began with a prayer something like this, “Dear God, please help us to be with you”? Not too many.

I don’t doubt the sincerity or faithfulness of the first prayer and I understand its intent. But there is a difference between the two. Do you hear the difference? Can you see the difference in your life? 

I haven’t prayed about fishing in a long time but sometimes I still catch myself trying to fit the story of Jesus into my story. It’s like I’m trying to keep him on the stringer of my life. 

I want Jesus to take on my worries, cares, and concerns. I want Jesus to share my priorities, opinions, and worldviews. I want Jesus to promote my initiatives and be on my side. I want Jesus to provide what I want, need, and pray for whether it’s about myself, you, or the world. And I don’t want Jesus to get too big, wild, or crazy. I don’t want him to challenge me or make me uncomfortable. I don’t want him to ask me to change or live differently. I want him to support but not mess with my life.

What about you? Are you also carrying Jesus on a stringer? Does fitting the life of Jesus into your life characterize or describe your prayer, understanding of God, and relationship with Jesus? In what ways today are you trying to fit the story of Jesus into your story?

I want to turn our usual way in a different direction. What would it be like and take to “make [our] story fit into the story of Jesus”? (Dear, Daniel Berrigan, Essential Writings, 33.) I think that’s the question at the heart of today’s gospel. (Mark 1:14-20) It’s Jesus’ question to Simon and Andrew, to James and John, to you and me. It’s the question behind the call to follow him.

“Follow me,” Jesus says. He could just as well have said, “Make your story fit into my story. Make your life fit into my life.” 

What if that’s the repentance, the change, Jesus is asking for at the beginning of today’s gospel? What if he’s asking us to make our story fit into his instead of fitting his story into ours? What would you have to let go of or leave behind in order to do that? 

Making our life fit into Jesus’ life is a thread that runs throughout the gospel. It’s not a one time asking. Again and again Jesus asks us to fit our lives into his and follow him.

• Blessed are the poor in spirit, those who mourn, the meek, those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, the merciful, the pure in heart, the peacemakers, those who are persecuted for righteousness’ sake. (Matthew 5:3-10) We know that as the Sermon on the Mount but it’s also a call. “Fit your life into mine and follow me.”
• Turn the other cheek. (Matthew 5:39) “Fit your life into mine and follow me.”
• “Love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you.” (Matthew 5:44) “Fit your life into mine and follow me.”
• Deny yourselves and take up your cross. (Matthew 16:24) “Fit your life into mine and follow me.”
• Forgive “seventy-seven times.” (Matthew 18:22) “Fit your life into mine and follow me.”
• Love God and love your neighbor as yourself. (Matthew 22:37-39) “Fit your life into mine and follow me.”
• Give food to the hungry and water to the thirsty, welcome the stranger, clothe the naked, visit the sick and imprisoned. (Matthew 25:31-46) “Fit your life into mine and follow me.”
• Put away your sword. (Matthew 26:52) “Fit your life into mine and follow me.”

The list could go on and on but that’s probably enough. You get the idea. So let me ask you this:

“Does your life make sense in light of the life of Jesus”? (Dear, 33.)

It’s a question I’m asking myself.

I’m asking that question about my values and priorities, how I spend my time and money, the quality of my relationships. I’m asking that question about my priesthood and our shared ministry. I’m asking that question about the homeless in our city park. I’m asking that question about the people who come to our church seeking assistance. I’m asking that question about my political opinions and how I will vote. I’m asking that question about the migrants coming to our country, the epidemic of gun violence in our nation, and the wars across our world. 

And I’m asking myself that question about the Department of Justice’s Critical Incident Review of the Robb School shooting. 

Those aren’t just questions for me. They’re also questions for you, for all of us. Look at the people, places, and circumstances in your life today, look at what is happening in our town and around the world, look at the needs and issues we deal with everyday, and ask yourself: Does my life make sense in light of the life of Jesus?

Some will embrace the questions and some will resist or deny them. Some will feel old wounds opening with those questions and some are sick and tired of hearing them. Some will feel helpless and burdened and some will feel angry and threatened. Some will hear the good news in those questions and some will hear bad news. 

Those questions, however, and a thousand others like them, describe the contexts in which we follow Jesus. They call us to show up and be a public face of Christ. 

How can we claim to follow Jesus and not ask the questions? I don’t think we can. 

If we’re not asking and wrestling with the questions then we’re probably making the story of Jesus fit into our story and we are leaving the Word of God “dead on the page.” (Dear, 32.) I don’t want to do that and I hope you don’t either. 

“Lift the Word from the page” and “take it to heart.” (Ibid.) Lift the Word from the page and let it come alive within you. Make that Word the very beat of your heart. (Ibid.) 

Try this. Put your hand over your heart. Feel its aliveness. Feel it beating. They say that a heartbeat sounds like this, “Lub dub, lub dub, lub dub.” But what if it really sounds like this, “Follow me, follow me, follow me”? 

____________________
Image Credit: Photo by Hugues de BUYER-MIMEURE on Unsplash.