Always on the Move

Genesis 12:1-5

Mark 1:16-20

7/8/07

Every year in late March, thousands of Japanese people disappear. Even their families don’t know where their relatives have gone. You see, March marks the end of the year, and people who have gotten in a lot of fiscal trouble decide to pack up and start a new life in a new place; it is the only way to escape persecuting creditors. You see, they don’t have Social Security numbers in Japan, so it is fairly easy to truly disappear.

That reminds me of late June in America, when hundreds of United Methodists move. I don’t think it is necessarily for the same reason as the Japanese, though, in some cases, I suspect churches are glad to see their troubling pastor move on! You see, we have an itinerant system. When I became a United Methodist pastor, I was told that ministers move because that was the model Jesus provided: that of a traveling preacher.

Of course, we don’t have to go back 2,000 years for a reason.  We can simply look back in American history to see that circuit riders were a way of reaching the unchurched on the frontier.  As we survey the whole Bible, we can quickly notice that God’s people are always on the move. Adam and Eve moved out of the garden; their son Cain wandered the earth because of his crime of killing Abel. Abraham left his home in Ur of the Chaldees and traveled to a promised land. Joseph ended up traveling to Egypt. Moses led the Hebrew children out of Egypt, to wander in the desert for 40 years before some entered the Promised Land. Later, we meet the prophets, most of whom were itinerant.  They never seemed to settle down or have a home. During the time of the kings of Israel, even God wandered around in a tent until David demanded that God settle into a temple.  The children of Israel were carried into exile twice.

In the New Testament, John the Baptist and Jesus are presented as itinerant preachers with no place to lay their heads. Jesus calls disciples to leave their homes, families and work, and to follow Him. Always on the move. Later in the New Testament,  the moving doesn’t really seem to slow down. Paul is constantly on missionary journeys, and even Peter finds himself on the move. Paul tells Christians that this world is not our home, that we are pilgrims, sojourners passing through.  Our own national forebears took the name “pilgrim” as they left ancestral homelands to move to the New World looking for religious freedom.  The word “pilgrim” means someone who travels to a sacred place as an act of religious devotion.

What is the purpose of all the moving?  Does God find it entertaining watching his creatures constantly on the move?  I really wonder what all the moving accomplishes. As someone who has moved 29 times in 48 years, I really wonder. My wife, Marable, gets frustrated with me when someone asks me where I am from, and I just get this strange look on my face and can’t seem to answer. But, really, it gets confusing after a while. I would really like to settle, to get a little bunny farm and live off the fat of the land like Lennie and George of Steinbeck’s novel “Of Mice and Men.” But, so far, this is not where God has called us. We are called to be people on a journey, constantly moving toward the heavenly Jerusalem. The moving changes us; it is part of the conversion process. Being on the move keeps us young and childlike.  The terrain is always changing and always new and exciting. Traveling creates new community, as we relate to the others around us who are fellow travelers. We welcome the stranger with ease, for we, having no roots in a certain place, know that we are strangers in a sense, as well.

It is not easy to be a traveler with Jesus, the One who calls us from the comfortable places to move with Him; the One who calls us to leave behind the things we are attached to, the situations and people we have gotten used to.  Our society does not treat the traveler so well, either. Immigrants don’t hold a high status in the modern world, whether they are legal or illegal.  People who are not settled create suspicion and fear in our hearts.  My grandfather was a young man during the Depression. He was a poor, white, Southern man, yet he wanted to travel. He didn’t own a car or have a job in his young adult years, so he became a hobo jumping freight trains to see America.  His life of being on the move was not acceptable; as a matter of fact, he was picked up in the rail yards of Savannah and given a six-month vacation on the “farm.” He never liked Savannah after that!

            Life on the move teaches us to travel light.  Moses gave the Hebrew children a list of things they could take on the road to freedom: a walking stick and sandals. They were to be ready to move quickly. The Japanese do not own large amounts of household furniture or many material goods. Most Japanese don’t even own a car. So when it comes time to move, it is much easier.  You can move with a borrowed car or pickup truck.  No need for a tractor-trailer. We tend to accumulate so much and always want to take everything with us when we move. A couple of Congolese friends once pointed out a two-car garage to me and said, “Here in America you even have homes for your cars!”  For the Congolese, to have a home for their children is a blessing -- cars are secondary.

 God calls us to let go of all the things that would hold us back. When Jesus sent His disciples out on mission journeys, He told them to travel light and let others help them with their needs. It is a humbling experience to need the help of others, but it creates very strong bonds. We tend to want to be people who are dependent on no one, and remain alienated from everyone. But when you are constantly traveling, you depend on the help of others.

Finally, living life as journey moves us into a faith-based life filled with moments when we are not in control.  We can plan, but when we are on the move, we don’t know exactly what will happen next. Cars break down, we take wrong turns, and the highway is not a safe place. Yet, we don’t travel alone. God is with us providing for our needs, guiding us, comforting us and offering us rest during the journey.

            The story is told of a carpenter who received an invitation to dine with the king of the land.  He considered this invitation a great honor, so he began to prepare.  First, he practiced his table manners every day for several months and researched all he could about proper etiquette for visiting royalty.  After that, he worked on his wardrobe.  This called for shopping tours to distant places and lots of money to pay for it all.   He started reading newspapers to learn about the latest news so he would have something interesting to talk about during dinner.  Finally, after many months of preparation, he was ready for set forth on his journey.  He took his invitation, some food and water, his clothes to wear to the dinner, and because he was a carpenter, he took a few of his tools.  He made good progress in the morning, and after lunch he walked many miles until late afternoon.  Then he stopped and built a simple shelter for the night.   After his evening meal, he dozed off to sleep.  The next morning, he was about to set off on his journey again when his carpenter’s eye made him take a closer look at the shelter he had built.  He admired its smooth lines but felt he could make it sturdier.  One thing led to another, and before he knew it, days had passed, and he had built a substantial home with many comfortable rooms.  He liked it so much that he decided to abandon his journey and make a permanent home here on the side of the road that led to the king’s castle.

            Many years passed, and one day, the carpenter heard a knock at his door.  His visitor, who called himself The Unbuilder, told him he had been sent by the king to remind him of an invitation to dine with the king of the land.  The king, he explained, was worried about where he was.  The carpenter invited him into his home and set a meal before him.   As they were eating, he confessed that some time ago he had received such an invitation to dine with the king and he had become sidetracked somehow.  After the meal, the carpenter found his invitation and became very excited about it and asked The Unbuilder if, in the morning after they both had rested, he would join him on the journey to the king’s castle.  The Unbuilder agreed but insisted that he sleep outside under the stars, where he could always keep the road to the king’s castle in view.  The next morning, they set out together.  Most days, they made good progress.  Other days, The Unbuilder would have to wait for the carpenter to build yet another home, which slowed them down considerably.  Each time that happened, The Unbuilder patiently encouraged his friend to continue on the journey.  He would do this by describing the elaborate meal that the king had prepared for them and by assuring him that, until they arrived, the king would their dinner warm. 

Today, as we ponder the story about the carpenter, it becomes somewhat familiar. In years past, we have received an invitation to fellowship with the King, our Lord. We gladly received it. Yet there were many things along the way that distracted us — building a career, building a family, building a home, building a nest egg, building a social network. Yet again, the voice of God comes, quietly inviting us to move along — not to be tied down by life. John Wesley would ask the early Methodists, “Are you going on to perfection?”  The question is: Do we desire to live perfectly in love with God and others — that is our calling — our vocation? Let us move on. Amen.