January 25, 2026

Hey, You!

A couple of years ago Dadgie and I took advantage of the low mortgage interest rates and refinanced our home loan.  It turned out to be a good move, but the process was mind-bending.  I cannot begin to tell you how many forms we had to try to comprehend, fill out, sign, and get to the lender.  It was a stack measured not in pages but in inches.  In order to accept us they needed to know virtually everything about us: all of our present and past loans, our credit history, our income, our tax statements for the last couple of years, and on, and on.  They were concerned, of course, that they could be taking a risk on us – that we wouldn’t be able to pay off the loan, or that we might disappear, I suppose.  All of that came flooding back to me when I read this story from Matthew about Jesus calling his disciples.  I think I’ve always been a bit amazed at the spontaneous response of these men who dropped their nets immediately and took off after him.  But this time something else hit me.  There is absolutely no indication in this passage that Jesus had known any of these men, or that he knew anything about them.  I suppose it’s possible that he did, but the story doesn’t suggest it.  I have this image in my head of Jesus seeing some men out fishing, and calling out to them, “Hey, you!  Come be my disciple; share my life and my ministry; let my own credibility and the success or failure of all my future plans rest with you!”  That’s the picture that twisted my mind in a knot and caused me to remember all those forms we had to fill out and sign to refinance our mortgage.

“Hey, you!”  Jesus didn’t know whether any of these guys had any brains, or creativity, or political or social prowess.  For all he knew they could be complete losers.  They might have no clue what he would be doing or saying or how to deal with people they encountered.  And, truth be known, it turns out they really didn’t have a clue.  Jesus was always trying to explain to them what he was talking about, and most of the time they didn’t quite get it even after the explanation.  But somehow, these regular guys, these fishermen, became the bearers of his message and the founders of the Church of Jesus Christ.

“Hey, you!”  Jesus would have no idea about the financial situation of these men, other than to assume that since they were fishermen they were probably not very well-heeled.  That runs contrary to any consultant’s advice about starting a new venture.  The first thing you do is line up financial backers.  You put the people with the deepest pockets on your board or in your inner financial campaign circle.  They are going to provide you with the biggest initial boost to your plans.  Jesus grabbed some fishermen who immediately gave up their jobs.  Not a very auspicious beginning.  But, roaming around the countryside with him – no income, no guaranteed lodgings, no budget – they managed to start something that changed the world.

“Hey, you!”  Were any of these guys devout Jews?  Did they know any of the Hebrew Scriptures?  Were they regular attendees at Temple?  How in the world would Jesus know?  In fact, this was all taking place in (as scripture says) “Galilee of the Gentiles,” or, as Isaiah puts it in the passage that Luke is quoting, “Galilee of the nations.”  What that phrase refers to is the remarkable racial, religious, and cultural diversity of this region.  The majority of its population was, in fact, Gentile.  So, who were these men out in their fishing boats?  Were they men of faith, any kind of faith?  Could they pass the litmus test for proper beliefs and doctrine?  They were just some guys out fishing.  And yet, they became bearers of the gospel.  What did they have in common, other than being fishermen?  They all said “yes.”

“Hey, you!”  That knocks my socks off.

And what does it have to say to us?  For one thing I believe it’s a cautionary tale about putting too many hurdles in front of people.  The institution of the church, by and large, has for generations been among the most stridently exclusive clubs in human experience.  I think that’s one of the reasons we have, to our embarrassment, so many branches of Christianity and Protestant denominations.  Each little group of believers sets up their criteria for participation and fellowship.  And those who refuse to adhere to their list of beliefs and practices are excluded, and those who disagree are “disfellowshipped.”  You may have noticed that when we share in communion on the first Sunday of each month I make some sort of statement about the inclusiveness of our table – that everyone is invited, regardless of membership, baptism, belief or disbelief.  I say that because I think it’s a disgrace to put any sort of barrier between a person and this table of grace.  Dadgie and I had a professor in seminary who wrote a paper that was only partly tongue-in-cheek advocating communion for dogs.  He was going to the extreme to make the point of the need for utter and boundless inclusion at the Lord’s table.  Maybe I should introduce our communion service each week by simply saying, “Hey, you!”

Secondly, from the way Jesus called his disciples, I think we can learn something about pride.  It is remarkably arrogant to believe that one has the intellect, the moral standing, the wisdom, the acumen, the grasp of infinite variables to stand in judgment of another person.  I have to admit, when Dadgie and I were answering all those questions and filling out all those forms for our mortgage refi, there was a part of me that wanted to say to the bank’s representative, “Just who do you people think you are?”  But I didn’t.  After all, it’s their money, and I’m the beggar.  But for any of us to assume we know better than another person, that we have a clearer sense of right and wrong, or a firmer grasp of truth, strikes me as akin to idolatry.  It’s placing one’s own mind up on a sacred pedestal.  It’s assuming for one’s self something of the omniscience of the divine creator.  Jesus made no prejudgments; he just saw the fishermen and said, “Hey, you!”

And finally, and perhaps most importantly, when Jesus grabbed these guys at random to follow him, he gave us a powerful example of trust.  It is an astonishing, spendthrift kind of trust, throwing caution to the wind (or in this case to the waves).  How unlike us he is!  You and I won’t make a move without weighing the options, considering all the ramifications, permutations, and combinations, testing the waters, getting our ducks in a row.  I generally don’t buy anything without first checking out Consumer Reports.  And we all carry that caution over to our relationships.  We feel people out carefully before we trust them; we check out their positions and test their motives.  This has gone to an extreme in this electronic age where now young people don’t go out to a movie without Googling their date in advance.

This morning, after worship and our luncheon, we will be gathering for our annual meeting.  Among the business before us will be the election of church officers and board members.  We have folks who work on our behalf to find people in our midst to fill those roles, and we are very grateful to them.  Sometimes church folks worry about whether a certain individual is right for a board or an office.  But if we followed the example of Jesus we might just as well fill our positions by saying to any person in the congregation, or I daresay any person walking down the street, “Hey, you!”

I remember in a previous pastorate, we had a board of deacons with no chair.  No one on the board considered himself or herself up to the role of chairing the board of deacons.  Finally, in desperation, two women who each felt wholly inadequate agreed to co-chair, thinking if they split the job maybe neither could fail too miserably.  They worked at it, learned and led.  In the end they wound up being two of the best deacons chairs I’ve ever seen in a church (incidentally, our current deacons chair, Joanne, has also done a terrific job).

I think there resides somewhere deep within each human soul great potential.  I believe that, if folks trust that potential and it is tapped, remarkable things can happen.  I’m convinced that it is the very image of God in which we were created (the imago dei) spoken of in Genesis that burns within our hearts and creates that potential.  And I think Jesus had such unwavering confidence in that divine spark in each human breast that he knew something amazing could emerge out of a fairly random collection of people.  So he saw some fishermen at work and said, “Hey, you!”

You may not consider yourself capable of taking on a responsibility that you are unaccustomed to.  You may have questions about someone else and their competence to handle a given role.  You may feel that a certain collection of people is woefully inadequate to the task set before them.  My advice to you is: chill out.  You may have no idea what can happen when you, or another person, or a group of people find that inner spark ignited and the result far exceeds the sum of the parts or any prior expectations.

We could take a clue from Jesus and the remarkable way he went about setting up his “A-team.”  “Hey, you!”  What a concept!  I’m impressed by, and deeply committed to, this church’s tradition of openness, of humility, and trust, and I pray that as we set out together to find our way forward, we will do so believing in ourselves, believing in one another, and believing in those around us – even those we’ve never met – ones to whom we might extend an invitation: “Hey, you!”