Dr. William A. Ritter
First United Methodist Church
Birmingham, Michigan
Scripture: I Samuel 3
June 8, 2003
Anywhere you go anymore, there will probably be some kind of reminder (verbal or visual) to turn off your cell phones or put them on “vibrate.” We will soon have that kind of reminder here. Don’t ask me how. But we’ll have it, given that several services in a row….before, during and after Easter….were interrupted by ringing cell phones. The worst interruption occurred in the middle of the Maundy Thursday service which, because it is done largely in candlelight, is one of the most hauntingly beautiful services of the year.
After several weeks of a cell phone per Sunday, I finally figured out what to do by way of response. Three or four Sundays ago, one of your cell phones went off in the middle of my sermon at 9:30. Without missing a beat, I simply said, “Somebody’ll get that,” and went right on with my sermon. And that is the last cell we have heard from since.
Jeff Nelson got a phone call at the lectern one Sunday. Jeff, who is in Prague with our mission team this Sunday, wasn’t working for us full-time then. Instead, he was a seminary student, here with several others, learning about ministry during a week in January. On the final Sunday of their stay, we invited one seminarian per service to share five minutes on how they got here….how they came to the idea of ministry, so to speak.
It was Jeff’s turn at the 11:00 service. There he was at the lectern, telling us about his boyhood in Rhinelander, Wisconsin….his football life….his college life….his party life….when a phone rang and rang. None of us knew where it was coming from. But Jeff knew. And what Jeff knew, specifically, was that it was ringing in his pocket.
So he answered it and allowed us to listen in on one end of the conversation….his end of the conversation….from which we quickly concluded that the unseen party on the other end of the conversation was God. Jeff was receiving a call from God. Actually, Jeff was receiving a call from one of the other seminary students, calling from the far corner of the balcony. But he made it sound as if he were talking to God. Better yet, he made it sound as if the reason God called (that particular morning) was to invite Jeff to consider a career in ministry. To which Jeff said “Yes” to God….right in front of us….that cold, frosty January morning.
A gimmick? Sure it was a gimmick. But we got it. We remembered it. We offered him an internship. And now we have offered him a job. Big time. Full-time. So it worked.
Which begs the question: “If you can receive a call from God, can you place a call to God?” On Friday night, after attending the Confirmation banquet, Kris and I went downtown to the Palladium for the 10:00 showing of Bruce Almighty. You need to know that Kris and I hardly ever do 10:00 movies, given that neither of us will be awake at the end of a 10:00 movie.
But we went because of a phone call. Two phone calls, actually. The first came to me in my office at 10:00 Friday morning. From Minneapolis. From a TV station. From an old friend who is a sports reporter for the ABC affiliate in Minneapolis. His name is John Gross. Some of you may remember when he worked with Billy Bonds and Diana Lewis at Channel 7 in Detroit. Great guy. Bright guy. Christian guy. Anyway, John said: “Bill, you gotta go see Bruce Almighty. But you gotta make one additional phone call first.” Then he went on to explain why.
In the movie, Bruce (played by Jim Carrey) is a down-on-his-luck TV reporter who is given the powers of God. Given them by who? Given them by God….God, as played by Morgan Freeman (a distinguished African American gentleman who, the last time I looked, was dressed in a chauffeur’s uniform and “driving Miss Daisy”).
We eventually get to see God (in a white suit, no less). But before we see him, we see his phone number. Which, for those who may want to add it to their directory, is 776-2323. And ever since the movie was released, people have been adding their own area code and calling that number. In some locales, the number belongs to some very real people who, after the fortieth call, don’t find it funny. Leading some of them to change their number. And leading a few others to consider a lawsuit. But in Minneapolis, a lovely lady named Jenny Becvar (with a very personable voice) has recorded an answering machine message that begins:
Looking for God? Well, I’m not him. But I do know him. And knowing him has changed my life. You can know him, too. In fact, it’s only a local call. If you want a reciprocal relationship with God, just call on Jesus Christ.
Then, in case the caller wants further information, Jenny directs them to another number. Which I called. And which led me to the man who handles overflow phone calls for the Billy Graham Association. His name is Hans. He is a 77-year-old fellow with a thick Swiss accent. Hans retired after 35 years as an airline pilot with Braniff Airlines. We talked about his faith and my faith. He told me about his marriage and his bout with cancer. All in all, it was a most pleasant conversation. None of which would have happened, were it not for a phone call from a sportscaster in Minneapolis….about a movie made in Hollywood….featuring an out-of-work journalist in Buffalo….who encounters God in a seven-story warehouse….and who ends up living happily ever after with Jennifer Aniston….which, all things considered, beats a sharp stick in the eye.
As I wrote in Steeple Notes, Kris and I no longer jump when the phone rings. Instead, each of us plays possum, feigning temporary hearing loss in hopes that the other will hear the phone and pick it up. But there were younger days when (in our respective households) we raced for the phone, beating everyone else to the phone, absolutely certain that the call would be for us….must be for us….couldn’t possibly be for anybody but us. I know that in my growing up years, I couldn’t imagine the possibility that anybody (in their right mind) would call my sister or my parents. Someone once said that to be a teenager is, by definition, to be continually expecting a call.
Killing time on Friday night while waiting for the movie, Kris and I wandered through downtown Birmingham where the night was balmy, the sidewalks crowded, and the average age of the pedestrian population barely exceeded 15. But the most interesting thing was that every third kid was holding a cell phone. While mingling with all the other kids who were there, they were on the phone talking to some kid who wasn’t there.
Today’s kids must wake up expecting a call. Which brings me to the story of a kid who went to bed not expecting a call, yet got four. The kid’s name was Samuel. And, in some way, I guess you could call him a miracle child. Because he was born to a woman who tried and tried, but couldn’t have children. Her name was Hannah and yes, I told her story on Mother’s Day.
Hannah so desperately wanted a child that she made a deal with God, saying: “God, if you enable me to get pregnant, once I deliver….and once the child can toddle about and go to the toilet….he’s yours.” So God did. And Hannah did. Which was how it came to pass that Samuel, at a very young age, went to live in the Jewish temple with a priest whose name was Eli.
Now Eli was old. And nearly blind. One night, God called to Samuel in his sleep. And the young boy, thinking that it was the old priest calling, went to Eli’s room saying: “You called me. Here I am.” Leading old Eli to say: “I didn’t call you. Go back to bed.”
Well, that happened twice more. And both times Samuel was sent back to bed. But finally Eli got savvy, thinking to himself: “Maybe somebody really is calling the kid. More to the point, maybe God is calling the kid.” So he tells the kid: “If you hear your name called one more time, answer: ‘Speak, Lord, for I am listening.’” Which is exactly what happened. And which is how, the Bible says, Samuel was called to do an important job for God. Which he did. Until he died. With no complaint. Because the job was right. Exactly right. Given that good jobs are like good jeans, in that they fit you perfectly.
To be of Confirmation age is to be of an age where (when the subject of your future arises) everybody asks a question of you and then makes a statement to you. The question reads: “So what do you want to be when you grow up?” Which is a fair question. Not that you are ready to answer it now. Not that you will be ready to answer it permanently, ever. I still have some growing up to do. And I do not know for certain who I will be, or what I shall do, when I get there. I have a pair of friends in their late forties who are back in school taking education courses to become third and fourth grade teachers. Both had good jobs before. In fact, both were professionals before. But like jeans that don’t quite fit, their former jobs didn’t quite fit, either. But they think teaching will. And I think they are right.
But the statement that often follows reads: “You know, you can be anything you want to be when you grow up.” Well, as sixth graders, you are not as bright as you are going to be someday. But you are smart enough to know that that’s not true. You can’t be anything you want to be when you grow up. Certain things will stop you. If you are not growing to a height of at least 6 foot 10, you are not going to play the pivot for the Pistons. It just isn’t going to happen. And if you would rather write ten beautiful poems than solve one stupid math problem, you are not going to become a rocket scientist. It isn’t going to happen. And if you’ve got ten fingers like mine that were assembled from a bunch of different bins at the very end of a model year, you are not going to be a world class artist or a brain surgeon, either.
But I’ll tell you something else. If you try to do something that isn’t you….that isn’t in you….for which you have no gifts, no talents or no passion….you may earn a living at it, but you are not going to like it.
You see, I believe God has already called you to what you are going to do. But you don’t know it, because you haven’t heard it. But it’s in there. For God has coded it into you. I am talking about the one or two things (maybe even three things) that you can do better than anything else….or most everybody else….because they’re you.
I chuckle when I hear people talking about which jobs, in any given five-year period, are going to be where the big bucks are. Which may be interesting information to know. But the big bucks are not going to come your way….no matter how smart or trainable you are….unless there is a basic “fitness” between the occupation you enter and the individual you are. There may be big bucks in sales. But you may not have it in you to be a seller. Ditto for computers. Which may not be you either.
I believe that I am called. I believe that you are called. By whom? By God! But none of us is called by God to do something we are unable to do. God’s request of us always takes seriously what God has given to us.
So what most of us need is somebody who will help us figure out what God has given to us. So, for a few of you, let me do just that by telling you a story.
I was 17 (my friend said) and at summer camp, when a minister fell into step with me when we were leaving the dining room and said: “Can I talk to you?”
“What’d I do wrong?”
He said: “Have you ever considered becoming a minister?”
“No, sir,” I said. “Never. Never have.”
There I was, 17 years old, about to begin my senior year in high school. And he ruined everything for me. What a thing to lay on a kid. All I wanted to do was go where the girls were….save some money….get myself a car….go to school…. maybe get married….house….garden….two weeks vacation in the summer. What else is there? Then he goes and lays that on me. I thought about it when I went to bed at night. I thought about it when I got up in the morning. Truth be told, I couldn’t quit thinking about it. I mean, he was a minister and he did that to me.
Well, I am a minister and I am not beyond doing it to you. This is Confirmation Sunday. Here’s hoping that all sixty of you have a wonderful day, followed by a good night’s rest. But I am also hoping that, because of what I have just said, at least two or three of you have a hard time sleeping.
