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Paul, an apostle of Christ Jesus by the will of God, To the saints who are also faithful in Christ Jesus: Grace to you and peace from God our Father and the Lord Jesus Christ. Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, who has blessed us in Christ with every spiritual blessing in the heavenly places, even as he chose us in him before the foundation of the world, that we should be holy and blameless before him. He destined us in love to be his sons through Jesus Christ, according to the purpose of his will, to the praise of his glorious grace which he freely bestowed on us in the Beloved. In him we have redemption through his blood, the forgiveness of our trespasses, according to the riches of his grace which he lavished upon us. For he has made known to us in all wisdom and insight the mystery of his will, according to his purpose which he set forth in Christ as a plan for the fulness of time, to unite all things in him, things in heaven and things on earth. In him, according to the purpose of him who accomplishes all things according to the counsel of his will, we who first hoped in Christ have been destined and appointed to live for the praise of his glory .
(Eph. 1:1–12, RSV)
“Paul, an apostle of Christ Jesus by the will of God.” Four times in the first eleven verses of this passage the apostle Paul refers to the will of God. Clearly, the will of God is an important concept to him. In fact, he introduces himself with this phrase in First & Second Corinthians, and Colossians. It also appears in Second Timothy. Paul introduces himself as “an apostle of Christ Jesus by the will of God.”
But why does Paul introduce himself so often as “an apostle of Christ Jesus by the will of God”? You probably know there were some who questioned his calling––who not only doubted but disputed, openly, his calling as an apostle. They did not think he should be ranked as an apostle. And on occasion Paul felt compelled to defend his calling as an apostle such as in his Letter to the Galatians. Yet there were other occasions when Paul seems reluctant to defend his calling as an apostle such as in First Corinthians 15 where he says: “For I am the least of the apostles, unfit to be called an apostle, because I persecuted the church of God. But by the grace of God I am what I am, and his grace toward me was not in vain” (9–10).
So, Paul had his struggles with others about his calling. Yet there are indications that Paul’s struggles were not merely from without but also from within. Three times he relates his conversion and call, and each time with a sense of astonishment. Like Moses, Jeremiah, Isaiah, Elijah, Jonah, Amos, and so many others in the Bible, it didn’t seem quite right. It didn’t seem entirely appro-priate. It didn’t seem as if he was the right man for the job. It did not seem to make sense on every level.
Acts 9:1 says Saul was “breathing threats and murder against the disciples.” So, how could one who hated the apostles become an apostle? How could one who persecuted the church become a leader of the church?
Being called by Christ Jesus did not make sense to Paul in many respects. Nor did it make his life easier. In many ways, it made his life more difficult. It did not make everything simple. It made some things more complex. It surely did not reduce the number of questions he had. It only increased them. It certainly did not resolve all his problems. Rather, it exposed problems he did not know he had, and one basic problem in particular about which he said: “I do not understand my own actions. For I do not do what I want, but I do the very thing I hate” and “I do not do the good I want, but the evil I do not want is what I do. … Wretched man that I am! Who will deliver me from this body of death?” (Rom. 7: 15-24, sel.)
Being called by Christ Jesus did not make Paul more understandable to himself in every respect. In some respects, it made him far less understandable to himself: “I know a man who fourteen years ago was caught up into the third heaven––whether in the body or out of the body, I do not know. God knows” (2 Cor. 12:2). Then there are all these “I, not I” statements in Paul. All of this is quite odd from a strictly psychological standpoint. Suffice it to say, Christ’s calling made life infinitely more mysterious yet also infinitely more purposeful and providential, which is likely one reason he referred to himself as “an apostle of Christ Jesus by the will of God.” No other explanation sufficed. No other seemed credible except “the will of God.”
Perhaps this is something worthy of our reflection. I have not yet had the opportunity to get to know many of you. But I know few seminary students who have not struggled with their calling. Perhaps you, too, have had or are having struggles with your calling––and perhaps both from within and without. If so, you are not alone. And you are by no means the first. Many if not most seminary students and students of theology throughout the centuries have struggled with their calling, especially those who have taken it seriously.
Seminary can be a wonderful place to sort these things out. The word seminary derives from the Latin word for “seed.” So, seminary suggests a place where tender little seedlings are fed, watered, and nurtured. And I hope this is part of your experience here. But seminary is also a place where our faith is tested. And seminary, in this respect, as many of you have probably figured out already, can be a difficult place, too. And there is no use any of us sugar-coating it or putting the shine on it.
What we learn here does not necessarily make life easier, but sometimes more difficult. It does not necessarily make life simpler, but sometimes makes it more complex. It certainly does not reduce the number of questions one has but only increases them.
There are many reasons for this––both internal and external. But the main reason is God. God complicates everything and yet often, at the same time, simplifies everything, too. God, on the one hand, the church teaches, is simple in the sense that he is one, indivisible, and entirely self-consistent. But, on the other hand, God is not simple in the sense that he is easy to understand. He is not easy to understand. He is infinitely complex, mysterious, and difficult to understand.
In many respects, seminary would be so much easier and simpler, if it did not include the study of God. In fact, some seminaries in recent decades have tried to put less emphasis on studying God. It does not appear to have worked out too well in any cases that I know. But I understand the problem: Studying God can often make life so much more difficult and complex.
Let’s be honest: Studying theology can be hard––hard on us psychologically and spiritually, personally as well as interpersonally. Studying theology often changes us. We can find out more about ourselves than we ever wanted to know. We can discover more problems than we ever knew we had. Yet we can learn more about God than we could ever dream, which is why Jesus compares knowledge of God to “the pearl of great price” (Matt. 13:45–46)––it is worth selling everything we have.
Nothing can compare with knowing God. Nothing is more beautiful than the beauty of God. Nothing is greater, more glorious, or majestic than the being and acts of God. Listen, again, to what Paul says: “Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus, who has blessed us in Christ with every spiritual blessing.” “… the riches of his grace which he lavished upon us. For he has made known to us in all wisdom and insight the mystery of his will, according to his purpose which he set forth in Christ as a plan for the fullness of time, to unite all things in him, things in heaven and things on earth.” Do you know anything more important or worth studying than this? There is no greater privilege, no greater joy than to inquire in the temple of the Lord (Ps. 27:4). Nevertheless, studying God is not easy.
In the days ahead, you may well be tempted to think, “Maybe I should have studied something else.” “Maybe I should have studied botany.” Botany is a wonderful field. You look at plants all day under a microscope and discover all sorts of beauty and intricacy. The same thing goes for bugs, I suppose. At the end of the day, you put the plant or the bug back in the bottle or behind the glass, whether dead or alive, it doesn’t matter. They all more or less stay put. You go home. You sleep well.
But studying God is not like that. God does not stay put. He does not stay in a bottle or behind glass. A god that stayed in the bottle would not be God. A god that could be captured in a test-tube would not be the God of the Bible because the God of the Bible is free, sovereignly free. A god that could be observed under a microscope would not be the God of the Bible because the God of the Bible is not passive, but active, supremely active, free, and on the move. He goes home with us. He follows us. He pursues us even in our dreams.
Studying God is not safe. It is anything but safe. It is actually quite dangerous. It is like contracting malaria. It can be rough. And once it gets in the blood, you have it for life. And it can reassert itself in very inconvenient moments. Studying theology is often like trying to wire a house with the electricity on. Sooner or later, it’s going to bite you, but you never know when or where. Wrestling with God isn’t easy. You may end-up like Jacob, limping. And perhaps limping not just a little, but a lot. And perhaps for a longtime. Are you limping? You are not alone. Studying God, wrestling with God, being called by God is not always easy. That is why you and I need to be clear about the foundation of our calling.
The foundation of our calling is not that our momma or somebody else told us we would make a good minister. The foundation of our calling is not the result of some vocational aptitude test or because you, I, or others came to the conclusion we were especially suited, gifted, talen-ted, or had the right disposition, experiences, or skill set. These may play a role and contribute to the fulfillment of our calling, but they are not the foundation of our calling. The foundation of our calling is the will of God.
There is no substitute for knowing that your life is part of a larger story, a grander plan, and that your gifts, talents, abilities, and interests have been given to you for a larger purpose, and that you are not here by accident. You are here by the will of God. And knowing you have been called by the will of God will sustain you and give you strength and courage like nothing else.
And lest anyone here say, “I’m not planning to enter the ministry, so I’m off the hook.” Let me say: You, too, are most definitely on the hook because no one comes to know Jesus in the Bible without being given something to do. Have you noticed that? Jesus gives most everyone he meets something to do. Everyone who receives him receives a call. So, the Christian life is not only about justification and sanctification. It is also about vocation.
Ministers of the Word, of course, are not the only ones called. All Christians are called. All have a vocation. Some are called to study bugs, botany, or biology. Christians in these callings––and in so many others––have their challenges and pressures, too, which are often far greater than many of us preachers realize. Christians in these callings need also to know that the foundation of their calling is the will of God, that God has given them gifts, talents, and abilities to use in the work of his kingdom, and that they too are part of God’s story and grand plan. They too are part of a great symphony and chorus and have a part to play and a song to sing.
So, every Christian receives a call. Every Christian is a minister. But not every Christian is called to be a minister of Word and Sacrament. The calling to be a minister of Word and Sacrament has many unique features, requirements, demands, and duties. And the duties of most ministers of Word and Sacrament in America have multiplied in recent generations and so have the expectations placed upon them by most congregations. But one duty is still considered basic by most Protestant congregations, preaching.
Preaching involves many tasks––not least among them still is studying the Bible and telling people what it says. For this reason, Karl Barth describes the life of a minister of the Word as a daily “double assault.” Ministers of the Word are to read the Bible daily. If they do, it will guide and comfort them. But if they are reading it properly, it will also assault them. It will tell them things they do not want to hear. But their job is not only to hear what the Bible says, but to tell the people what it says. And when they tell the people what it says, do you know what happens often enough? The people assault them for telling them what it says. According to Barth, this is the daily double-sided assault of every true minister of the Word.
My father was a pastor for forty years. He served as faithfully and joyfully as any pastor I have ever known. But he said preaching was like dying every week––dying to the text. One may have all sorts of things one wants to say or wants to avoid saying. But a true minister or servant of the Word must not only submit but die to the text. Dying isn’t pleasant. It’s like, well, dying. But for the Christian pastor, the great thing about dying every week is the promise and––often enough––the experience of resurrection. The apostle Paul understood this. He said, “I die daily” (I Cor. 15:31).
Paul understood what it meant to preach the Word in season and out of season, to be the target of many slings and arrows, to be assaulted, mocked, ridiculed, and slandered, to “fight with wild beasts at Ephesus” (I Cor. 15:32), and to have his calling doubted and disputed at every turn. Thus, it should come to us as no surprise that he introduced himself, repeatedly, as “an apostle of Christ Jesus by the will of God.” The will of God sustained him and gave him courage––and it can sustain and give you courage, too.
There is no greater honor than to serve as a minister in Christ’s church. There is no greater privilege than to be a pastor. But being a pastor is not easy. It is one of the most daring and demanding journeys one can take. It exposes one to some of the greatest joys yet some of the most devastating experiences of life. It tests one at every level of one’s being. One is forced to face many challenges both internal and external. But in the midst of it all, there is God “who,” as today’s text tells us, “has blessed us in Christ with every spiritual blessing.” He has “lavished upon us … the riches of his grace” (Eph. 1: 3, 7–8) through Jesus Christ our Savior and Lord who has promised to never leave us or forsake us.
Brothers and sisters, you are not here by accident. You are here for a purpose. You have been called by God and “he who began a good work in you will bring it to completion in the day of Jesus Christ” (Phil. 1:6).
In the meantime, the foundation of our calling is firm and sure. It rests on an unshakeable foundation: the will of God. And no experience, no academic degree, no fancy robe, and no amount of pulpit jewelry can ever substitute for that. In the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit. Amen.
This sermon was delivered at chapel during orientation week at the University of Dubuque Theological Seminary, Dubuque, Iowa, on Aug. 8, 2024.
