Jesus said, You did not choose me, I chose you. . .
I wonder how often we realize what a gracious gesture Jesus handed us in those few simple words. Just in case we begin to wonder if God really cares about us, Jesus reminds us that he’s been pursuing us in a high-speed chase since the beginning of time.
Throughout the Gospels, we continually discover that Jesus knew how easy it would be for us to, sometimes, think that we are the source of everything good in our lives. Jesus knew that sometimes our trust in our own powers and abilities might cause us to forget that there is a God who chooses us in every moment of our existence. Jesus knew long ago what modern psychology has been telling us: namely that the need for acceptance is one of the most basic of needs.
We need to know that we are important to someone, especially someone that we respect and love. When we get out of bed every morning, the unspoken need is to know that we are valued, that we are desirable.
Some of the very best and some of the very worst experiences in my life center around times of being chosen or not being chosen.
The gamut goes from rejection on the playground when it came time to pick team members for games, to being called and chosen to be a priest in Christ’s Church. I’m sure you can think of similar moments in your own lives.
Many of us were too young to remember the ceremony surrounding our baptisms, but it doesn’t matter because we know we are baptized, and we know that what it and all those other sacramental moments we experience in the church each and every week symbolize and celebrate are the reality of God’s unrelenting choosing of you and me.
I know and I accept that God accepts me. . . whether or not I choose God back; whether I’m good or bad, clean or unclean, righteous or irreligious, serious or cynical, happy or grumpy, saint or sinner.
And if all this Good News isn’t enough, Jesus goes on to tell us in this week’s Gospel that we are chosen not just to be servants, but as companions.
I no longer call you servants, but friends, Jesus says.
A man once went to his priest to complain that there was a lack of friendliness among members of their congregation. He felt that the people were reluctant to even greet one another, even at the time of the PEACE; they just stood there frozen. The priest agreed and devised a plan to solve the problem.
He stood in the pulpit, and he told his congregation that on the following Sunday at the time of the PEACE. . . everyone would stop and greet one another in a friendly manner.
When the service was over, the man who had lodged the complaint decided to turn to the woman behind him in the pew and say, Good Morning, but she just glared at him and snapped back: THAT DOESN’T BEGIN UNTIL NEXT SUNDAY!
Jesus says in our Gospel, I no longer call you slaves, for a slave does not know what the Master is about. Instead, I call you friends, since I have made known all that I have heard from God.
Obviously, we know from even a cursory reading of the Gospel that Jesus defines friendship in much deeper terms than a friendly handshake or even a friendly acquaintance.
One of the favorite hymns that Christians love to sing in church is, What a Friend We Have in Jesus, but do we really hear the words? They don’t read, What a Friend we have in Jesus, he’ll reach out and shake our hand. No, it’s, What a friend we have in Jesus, all our griefs and pain to bear.
Someone once said, two people may talk a lot, but they remain acquaintances until they have cried together.
God has chosen to be there for you, especially amid your tears, even to cry with you. God’s power is not solar or nuclear, it’s a much greater power; it’s the power of friendship. . . and it’s universal!
As St. Augustine wrote, God loves you as though you are the only person in the world, and he loves everyone the way he loves you.
If the closeness of the vine and the branches metaphor last week wasn’t intimate enough for you, Jesus says this week, I want us to be friends! It’s as if Jesus is saying, I don’t just want you because you can donate to the cause, or because you can grow a church, or because you can lead a committee, or sing in the choir. I don’t want you because it’s my duty to love the unlovable; I want you because I actually like you, because wanting you is its own reward!
Believe me when I tell you, I know how hard it can be to believe that, especially when you aren’t feeling particularly lovable. As the theologian Reinhold Neibuhr once said, Most of us don’t believe that God is as good as Jesus says.
There was once a priest who, on a walking tour of rural parishes, saw an old peasant kneeling by the side of the road, praying.
Impressed, the priest says to the man, You must be very close to God. The peasant looks up from his prayers, thinks a moment, and then smiles and says, Yes, God’s very fond of me.
Let me ask you this: How often in your prayers do you ponder just how fond God is of you? More than anything else, we need to believe in the friendship of God.
You didn’t earn this friendship because you didn’t need to. You didn’t choose me, I chose you, said Jesus.
I think Jesus would go on to say to us in the church today, Don’t beat each other over the heads with your differences. Don’t stop being friends because you might disagree about what it means to be my friend, for you are all my friends no matter what. Your most basic need, the need to be accepted, has been fulfilled. The hurts and rejections in life need not sting as much as they might otherwise.
Why? Because, my friends, you have been chosen by none other than the Chosen One!
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