In the year 354, Augustine was born in the
little town of Tagaste, in North Africa.
Eventually he would become the most influential theologian in all of
Christian history.
Augustine was extremely bright and
intelligent. His parents sought out the
best educational opportunities for him.
At seventeen, Augustine left home to pursue
his studies, heading east to the great city of Carthage. There, he studied hard, but also took it upon
himself to enjoy the many pleasures of the city. He even acquired a concubine.
Augustine studied many different
philosophies, including those related to Christianity, and became a
professor. He kept asking questions –
great thinkers never stop asking questions – and eventually, his intellect
accepted the arguments of Christian philosophers, and he decided to become a
Christian himself.
But there was one problem. He understood that the particular pleasures
he enjoyed were in conflict with his calling to become a Christian. He was determined to become a Christian; not
a lukewarm Christian, but a wholehearted follower of the faith. Which meant he had to stop sleeping
around. So he prayed to God: “Give me chastity and continence; just not
yet.”
That was his prayer. He fully intended to commit himself
wholeheartedly to his newfound faith … someday.
In the meantime, a conflict raged within, and
he struggled with it. He wanted to start
that new life, and he knew he would. But
he wasn’t yet ready to let go of his old life.
One day, sitting in a garden in Milan, he was
praying, “How long, Lord, how long? Will
it be tomorrow and always tomorrow?” At
that point he heard a child’s voice float over the fence, saying, “Take up and
read. Take up and read. Take up and read.” To Augustine, the child’s words seemed to be
words coming directly from God.
It just so happened that right next to
Augustine was a copy of the writings of Paul the apostle. Following the instructions that came to him
from over the fence, Augustine picked up the manuscript and read these
words: “Not in reveling and drunkenness,
not in debauchery and licentiousness, not in quarreling and jealousy. But put on the Lord Jesus Christ, and make no
provision for the flesh, to gratify its desires.”
Then and there, Augustine decided that “tomorrow”
had come. The time was now. His conversion was complete; he was baptized,
he sold much of the property he owned, and went on to become the most
influential theologian in all of Christian history.
Well, how often do we talk about
tomorrow? “Tomorrow I’ll do this. Tomorrow I’ll do that.” Time passes, and then – like Augustine – we
wonder, will it be always tomorrow and tomorrow?
As Lemony Snicket said, “If we wait until
we’re ready, we’ll be waiting the rest of our lives.”
Last
week, I came across a story on a blog by Brenton Weyi. He writes:
“I recently met a very kind man who was on top of the world. He had just
gotten in a relationship with an amazing girl, he had just landed his dream
job, and he was living in a great city. The conversation briefly moved to my
own adventures and I mentioned how I had just returned from a summer of
travels. As soon as I finished uttering these words, his spirit dropped a
little bit; some of the contagious energy that he had been brimming with was
sucked out of him. He then told me that spending a few months traveling had
been a dream of his since he was a young boy. He loved adventure novels and
wanted to experience what other parts of the world had to offer.
“So,
I asked him: why not now? His girlfriend was the adventurous type, his job was
flexible, and he was still at a prime age to make the journey. His response was
a bit vague, but essentially he was waiting for the perfect conditions to go. I
thought I saw the perfect conditions, and he thought he didn’t, but he envied
people who could take the leap.
“It
seems that instances like these are the norm, not the exception. I have found that
many people in this world are caught in what I call the ‘Cycle of Waiting.’
They are always waiting for something; they waiting for life to become what
they wish it to be, either for months or years; they’re waiting for the right
time to move to a place they’ve always wondered about; they’re waiting for the
perfect storm to talk to a person who has always intrigued them. But the
problem is: they never break out of the cycle. New reasons always arise to put
off their deepest desires, and by the time they realize this fact, much of life
has usually passed them by.”
Reading
this story by Brenton Weyi, and remembering the story about Augustine, made me
wonder: Did Jesus ever have the feeling
that he wasn’t quite ready to do what he was called to do? Did the idea ever come to him that he would
start doing the work he was called to do, but tomorrow, not today?
It almost seems to me that this is exactly
what was going on with Jesus at the wedding in Cana. At the wedding celebration, a moment came
that Jesus wasn't expecting, and that he didn’t feel he was quite yet ready
for. “My hour has not yet come,” he
said.
Jesus was at the wedding, and probably just
wanted to enjoy himself. When the wine
ran out, he didn’t want to do anything to draw attention to himself. Probably, he had been pondering in his mind
when to “come out” publicly as the one anointed by God, one capable of doing
great things, miraculous things… but now?
This was not what he expected. He knew that his moment would come, but
didn’t think it would come so soon. He didn’t
feel ready for it.
He wasn’t ready for the world to know who he
really was. He wasn’t ready for the
challenges that would surely come, the controversy, the work. He wasn’t ready to begin walking the path to
Jerusalem, to confrontation, a path that he knew would eventually lead to the cross.
Maybe tomorrow would be better. Or the day after that. Or sometime next month…
Then again…he evidently cared much for the
host family, a family that he evidently knew well, a family which, having run
out of wine, was in a real predicament. And
maybe that predicament was partly Jesus’s own fault. After all, he was invited to the wedding, but he showed up with a group of
disciples whom he had just called a day or two before. I doubt they
were invited, yet there they were. Maybe they asked Jesus, “Do you really think
it’s alright if we come?” And Jesus said, “Sure. I know these people, it’ll be fine…”
And being poor, most of them, and being offered
unlimited free wine… yeah, maybe, if Jesus hadn’t brought his disciples with
him, they wouldn’t have run out of wine in the first place.
But still.
Was he ready? Ready for his
moment to come, ready to reveal himself?
Mary recognized this as “the moment.” Just like the many who recognized my call to
ministry before I did myself, and encouraged me along the path to ministry
before I was even ready to admit that was
my call, it was Mary who saw that the time for Jesus to begin his ministry was
at hand. It was she who saw it first,
before Jesus.
“Jesus, this is it. You can do something about this, something
very helpful, and at the same time begin the path you were called to walk. This is your moment.”
At first, Jesus wasn’t quite sure. “Dear woman, their problem is not our
concern. This is not my moment. My moment has
not yet come. I’m not ready yet.”
But right away Jesus knew that if he waited
until he was ready, then the moment would never come, and he’d be waiting for
the rest of his life. Maybe he had read
Lemony Snicket. Or maybe he knew that
his mother was right. (Mothers often
are.)
Sometime later, Jesus told a story about a
man who went on a journey. Just before
he left, he summoned his slaves and entrusted his property to them. To one he gave five talents, to another two
talents, and to another, one talent.
Even one talent is an almost unbelievably large amount of money,
equivalent to millions of dollars.
Well, the one who had received five talents
invested and traded, and earned five more.
The one who received two talents did likewise. But the one who received one talent dug a hole
in the ground and hid it.
Why did he do that? Well, maybe he said to himself, “This talent
is worth a lot. I don’t think I’m ready
to invest my talent. I gotta think about
this. I’ll do it tomorrow.”
And his talent just sat there.
Tomorrow became today. Would this be the day he breaks out his
talent and uses it to do some good? “No,
not today. I’m not ready. Maybe tomorrow.”
And then the next day, he says the same
thing. “No, not today. I’m not ready. Maybe tomorrow.”
And on it goes. Eventually, the master
returns. The talent is still in the ground, doing nothing. And the master is
not happy.
There are times in our lives when we are left
wondering just what it is that God wants us to do, what it is that God is
calling us to do, what kind of life God is calling us to live. But I think that, more often, we find
ourselves knowing exactly what it is that God wants us to do, what God is
calling us to do, what kind of life God is calling us to live.
And we look forward to the day when we can
get our lives reorganized and to start living the life God is calling us to
live, start doing the things God is calling us to do, the things we want to do because we know they will
bring meaning and joy to us and to those around us. We look forward to getting rid of all the
distractions in our lives that keep us
from transforming our lives and finding wholeness.
But for now, all we can do is say: “No, not
today. I’m not ready. Maybe tomorrow.”
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