Fifth Sunday in Ordinary Time: Boxed In
Send your suggestions on how to improve this homily
to jms48@fuse.net. Thanks!
Some people live in a tight little box.
So tight that even God has trouble
prying pry open the lid
and squeezing inside.
What’s it like to live inside a tight little box?
Some days, it nice and cozy inside a box because,
when you live inside a box,
nobody tells you what to do.
It’s your box, after all,
you created it and you live in it.
That means you decide what you believe,
you decide what’s right and what’s wrong
and you decide…everything.
A lot of people like living inside like that.
Some people paper the walls inside their boxes
with money.
Others like power and spend their days playing games…
games where they always win and competitors always lose.
Still others just want the rest of the world to leave them alone
so they enjoy whatever they like to enjoy
and never feel guilty about it.
As I said, it’s nice living inside a tight little box
because you decide what’s right and what’s wrong.
And if you decide to let God peek inside your tight, little box
you make sure that it’s on your terms.
If God steps inside, God better first wipe his feet
and not jump on the furniture
because, in order to fit inside a tight little box,
God has to shrink down in size and significance
to something equivalent to a cocker spaniel.
What sort of tight little box
was Peter living in the day that Jesus
stepped on the deck of his little boat and said,
“Put out deep, Pete,
we’re going to bring in a haul.”
Like most of us, Peter had constructed a tightly organized world
in a conscious or unconscious way
to keep at bay
the disruptive opportunity for unexpected,
unpredictable
and unwelcome
events,
strangers,
relatives,
remarks
and reprisals
from interfering unduly
with his dull and work-driven life.
Nevertheless, the man that stepped foot on the deck of Peter’s boat
was the Son of God,
not a cocker spaniel.
(pause)
* * *
Peter’s world would never be the same.
The tight little box of a predictable life
eking out a living
fishing the sea
was blown to smithereens.
He’d never seen so much fish before.
But seeing all that fish somehow made him realize
that he wasn’t meant to live his life
for a mountain of fish.
Rather, he had other mountains to climb
and climb them he would.
This was only the start.
Soon he’d climb Mt. Tabor
and there see the glory of heaven descend on Jesus
with all the brightness of the sun
on that day we now refer to as the Day of Transfiguration.
But another mountain stood on the horizon.
The mountain called Calvary.
A mountain which, at the time,
Peter was too afraid to climb
but later, he would muster the courage to climb a Calvary of his own
when he gave up his life out of love and obedience to Christ.
But none of this would have happened
and none of those mountains would have been scaled
if Peter hadn’t first stepped across the cardboard wall
of his tight little box of a life
and jumped off the deck of his fishing boat.
Before he jumped, he hit his knees.
There was no other way to do it:
Overwhelmed at what happened;
overwhelmed by the authority of the man who stood before him,
Peter’s world of weather reports
and weekly inventories
and cutting checks for payday
fell apart?
How did this happen?
He looked up
and recognized the power of God when he saw it.
That’s how it happened.
Overwhelmed at the strength
of the man who stood before him,
Peter’s weakness churned like a seasick stomach
and up came all the shady deals he ever made,
the low expectations he held for himself
the shoddy treatment he dished out
all the petty self-centeredness
stuffed inside the tight little box of his life
spilled out and he was scared
and he fell on the floor of that boat
because he had nothing left to stand.
How did this come about?
It came about because Peter saw the power of God
and recognized it for what it was.
When was the last time God pried open the lid
on the tight little box of your life?
Did it involve putting your livelihood on the line?
(It usually does!)
Did it require leaving your sorry regrets behind?
(They’re too heavy for one person to carry,
and you know it.)
Did it include a hike to a new place,
a place you’d never been before?
(That’s why we call following Christ “a call.”)
* * *
“On your feet, Peter.
You and me…we got some mountains to climb.”
to jms48@fuse.net. Thanks!
Some people live in a tight little box.
So tight that even God has trouble
prying pry open the lid
and squeezing inside.
What’s it like to live inside a tight little box?
Some days, it nice and cozy inside a box because,
when you live inside a box,
nobody tells you what to do.
It’s your box, after all,
you created it and you live in it.
That means you decide what you believe,
you decide what’s right and what’s wrong
and you decide…everything.
A lot of people like living inside like that.
Some people paper the walls inside their boxes
with money.
Others like power and spend their days playing games…
games where they always win and competitors always lose.
Still others just want the rest of the world to leave them alone
so they enjoy whatever they like to enjoy
and never feel guilty about it.
As I said, it’s nice living inside a tight little box
because you decide what’s right and what’s wrong.
And if you decide to let God peek inside your tight, little box
you make sure that it’s on your terms.
If God steps inside, God better first wipe his feet
and not jump on the furniture
because, in order to fit inside a tight little box,
God has to shrink down in size and significance
to something equivalent to a cocker spaniel.
What sort of tight little box
was Peter living in the day that Jesus
stepped on the deck of his little boat and said,
“Put out deep, Pete,
we’re going to bring in a haul.”
Like most of us, Peter had constructed a tightly organized world
in a conscious or unconscious way
to keep at bay
the disruptive opportunity for unexpected,
unpredictable
and unwelcome
events,
strangers,
relatives,
remarks
and reprisals
from interfering unduly
with his dull and work-driven life.
Nevertheless, the man that stepped foot on the deck of Peter’s boat
was the Son of God,
not a cocker spaniel.
(pause)
* * *
Peter’s world would never be the same.
The tight little box of a predictable life
eking out a living
fishing the sea
was blown to smithereens.
He’d never seen so much fish before.
But seeing all that fish somehow made him realize
that he wasn’t meant to live his life
for a mountain of fish.
Rather, he had other mountains to climb
and climb them he would.
This was only the start.
Soon he’d climb Mt. Tabor
and there see the glory of heaven descend on Jesus
with all the brightness of the sun
on that day we now refer to as the Day of Transfiguration.
But another mountain stood on the horizon.
The mountain called Calvary.
A mountain which, at the time,
Peter was too afraid to climb
but later, he would muster the courage to climb a Calvary of his own
when he gave up his life out of love and obedience to Christ.
But none of this would have happened
and none of those mountains would have been scaled
if Peter hadn’t first stepped across the cardboard wall
of his tight little box of a life
and jumped off the deck of his fishing boat.
Before he jumped, he hit his knees.
There was no other way to do it:
Overwhelmed at what happened;
overwhelmed by the authority of the man who stood before him,
Peter’s world of weather reports
and weekly inventories
and cutting checks for payday
fell apart?
How did this happen?
He looked up
and recognized the power of God when he saw it.
That’s how it happened.
Overwhelmed at the strength
of the man who stood before him,
Peter’s weakness churned like a seasick stomach
and up came all the shady deals he ever made,
the low expectations he held for himself
the shoddy treatment he dished out
all the petty self-centeredness
stuffed inside the tight little box of his life
spilled out and he was scared
and he fell on the floor of that boat
because he had nothing left to stand.
How did this come about?
It came about because Peter saw the power of God
and recognized it for what it was.
When was the last time God pried open the lid
on the tight little box of your life?
Did it involve putting your livelihood on the line?
(It usually does!)
Did it require leaving your sorry regrets behind?
(They’re too heavy for one person to carry,
and you know it.)
Did it include a hike to a new place,
a place you’d never been before?
(That’s why we call following Christ “a call.”)
* * *
“On your feet, Peter.
You and me…we got some mountains to climb.”
posted by BlueCollarPreacher at 5:04 PM
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