"You did not choose me, but I chose you."

Sermon by the Revd Dr Brutus Green
Readings: 1John 5:1-6, John 15:9-17

‘You did not choose me but I chose you’. These words are written on the icon in Westcott chapel, where I trained to become a priest.  I spent a lot of time staring up at those words, at a time when I was rediscovering who I was, trying to understand myself for the first time as a priest. When you’re ordained, other people have no idea whether you’ve been a priest for ten minutes or ten years. They treat you just the same. Within weeks of being ordained a man pulled me off the street to tell me that he was going to commit suicide. You can’t apologise and say “Well, I’ve only been ordained a few weeks, would you mind if I phone up a colleague and ask them what I should say.” 

In the same way on joining the army as a chaplain on day one you immediately put on rank. Never mind that you have no idea what’s going on or how to salute, everyone treats you as an officer and it’s up to you to work out what to do at double quick time. Or at least bluff it.

There’s little real preparation for becoming a parent. You don’t get a qualification or a practice run. One day you just wake up and realise your diary’s got very full. We all feel like frauds some of the time.

My favourite prayer is written by Cardinal Newman. I’ve shared it with you before:

“God has created me to do Him some definite service. He has committed some work to me which He has not committed to another. I have my mission. I may never know it in this life, but I shall be told it in the next. I am a link in a chain, a bond of connection between persons. He has not created me for naught. I shall do good; I shall do His work. I shall be an angel of peace, a preacher of truth in my own place, while not intending it if I do but keep His commandments. Therefore, I will trust Him, whatever I am, I can never be thrown away. If I am in sickness, my sickness may serve Him, in perplexity, my perplexity may serve Him. If I am in sorrow, my sorrow may serve Him. He does nothing in vain. He knows what He is about. He may take away my friends. He may throw me among strangers. He may make me feel desolate, make my spirits sink, hide my future from me.  Still, He knows what He is about.”

I feel like it’s a good prayer for this year.

The prayer turns on a single clause, that almost gets lost in the purple prose. It’s a prayer that throws its hands up in the air, saying, “I’m not sure what this situation is about, I’m not sure what the world is about, I’m not even really sure what I’m about.”  It’s a prayer that throws everything over to God in trust in that single clause: ‘He knows what He is about”. 

The only provision, the only exception, the only qualification is the little clause in the middle:  “If I do but keep his commandments.” His commandment is, as we’ve heard in the letters of John again and again since Easter, and again today: ‘that you love one another’. Do this and wherever you find yourself, however you find yourself, you are serving God, you are accomplishing your mission. “you did not choose me, but I chose you”.

So much of this life is completely out of our hands. I was thinking on Thursday, it must be a terrible liberating moment when the polls close for politicians. Finally, they can do no more. Up to that point they must be smiling till their mouths ache, talking to people they’re not interested in, being charming inside out. And then it’s out of their hands. And the vote comes in and it’s all or nothing. Adulation or unemployment. No tribunals; no haggling – even for mighty Trump. But I wonder, now polling has got so accurate, it seems like you could mostly call an election months before that date. All those trips to Hartlepool may be a bit of a waste of time. Our efforts make less difference than we imagine.

Whatever we might think about politicians, we should at least respect them for so publicly putting their lives and careers on the line. Modern life, in pensions, health care, employment rights and so on makes our lives usually quite safe.  It’s a good thing, but it also creates an illusion of invulnerability which can then be shattered. Like when a pandemic suddenly hits. Then we find out something of what we’re about. “You did not choose me but I chose you.”

Last week I talked about how theological concepts, like sin, sacrament, or spirit, can often become vague and lose meaning: just words. I don’t know what the word grace means to you. Certainly it’s quite important in the New Testament. But this is as good a definition as any: Jesus saying to you now: “You did not choose me but I chose you.”

Which is to say that we are where we are by the grace of God. And in the words of an annoying youtube yoga teacher:  “you are exactly where you need to be.” Our own perception of ourselves may be that we should not be there.And other people may question it. And then there is our vanity which tells us that we have earned our position. And it’s here that the idea of grace rubs against us a little bit. Because we like to think that we have worked hard to get where we are, to do what we have done. A little pride creeps in. “I am a self made man” we may think to ourselves. It’s “because I’m worth it”.

Sometimes theology and politics agree. Meritocracy is a very unpopular idea at the moment – two of America’s leading intellectuals, Daniel Markovitz and Michael Sandel, have both recently trashed the idea – that in America people succeed by their own efforts – But few on the successful side of life like to admit that its fortune and privilege, not hard work, that has got them there. Christ is clear: ‘You did not choose me but I chose you.’ Everything is grace, and if everything is grace, in everything we must give thanks. To be a Christian is to understand that everything in life is a gift. Sometimes that might be hard to hear but we are told that we have not chosen him. He has chosen us.

And as Cardinal Newman’s prayer, puts it: wherever we find ourselves, however our life has turned out, we all have our service, our work, our mission. And it’s unique to us, as each of us occupies a unique position in the world. Each of us is a unique point of connection between other people. Each of us here connects the people we know to the Church. And our Gospel tells us, just as the Father is made known by his love abiding in Christ, so Christ’s love is made known by his abiding in the disciples. The care of Christians for one another is a witness of who God is, to the world. Each of us is a link in that chain.

And what can be of more value to God than that? Especially when we’re in dark times. “whatever I am, I can never be thrown away. If I am in sickness, my sickness may serve Him, in perplexity, my perplexity may serve Him. If I am in sorrow, my sorrow may serve Him.” We might not be great speakers, or socially adept, physically fit or full of helpful skills, but if we love our neighbours as we are able, we are serving that mission. We are that “link in a chain, [that] bond of connection between persons”.  You did not choose me, but I chose you.

And so we have confidence. “He knows what he is about.” We of course know what we’re about. Perhaps it’s security, wealth, family, friends, work, leisure, watching Line of Duty on a Sunday night. If we lose these we fret and worry. We’ll feel insecure and undermined.  Will there be a seventh series? But if we remember that God knows what he is about and that our mission is just to love our neighbours wherever we find ourselves, then the loss of the trivial causes of our happiness will not bother us. The purpose God has set before us is what matters.

So whether we’re questioning ourselves and what we’re called to do;  or if we’re worried what others think; if we feel like a failure – or a triumph;  we need only remember that God has chosen us.  And that all we need do is love one another with the love that God has given us.  That’s it. And with that we’ll see how the connections we make; the link we perform between people;  fulfils our mission of revealing God’s love for the world.  There is no higher calling.  And no greater reassurance. “you did not choose me, but I chose you”. Amen.