Joe was a drunk who was miraculously converted at a Bowery mission. Prior to his conversion, he had gained the reputation of being a dirty wino for whom there was no hope, only a miserable existence in the ghetto. But following his conversion to a new life with God, everything changed. Joe became the most caring person that anyone associated with the mission had ever known. Joe spent his days and nights hanging out at the mission, doing whatever needed to be done. There was never anything that he was asked to do that he considered beneath him. Whether it was cleaning up the vomit left by some violently sick alcoholic or scrubbing toilets after careless men left the men’s room filthy, Joe did what was asked with a smile on his face and a seeming gratitude for the chance to help. He could be counted on to feed men who wandered off the street and into the mission, and to undress and tuck into bed men who were too out of it to take care of themselves.
One evening, when the director of the mission was delivering his evening evangelistic message to the usual crowd of still and sullen men with drooped heads, there was one man who looked up, came down the aisle to the altar, and knelt to pray, crying out for God to help him change. The repentant drunk kept shouting, "Oh God! Make me like Joe! Make me like Joe! Make me like Joe! Make me like Joe!"
The director of the mission leaned over and said to the man, "Son, I think it would be better if you prayed, ‘Make me like Jesus.’"
The man looked up at the director with a quizzical expression on his face and asked, "Is he like Joe?"
I like this story for several reasons, but the one I am going to highlight today might be an unexpected one.
Today is All Saints Sunday. It is a Sunday set apart in the church year to remember the saints who have gone before and who now rest with God. We remember how they impacted our lives, the things they taught us, and the example they set as people who lived in a relationship with Jesus Christ. In addition to this, I believe it is also a day to reflect upon the legacy, memories, and the example we will leave behind as people of faith.
It is a day for those of us who are living to ask ourselves, "How do we want to be remembered?"
Most of the time when we think about such things, the story that I opened this story come to mind. Some of us like to think we’d leave behind a legacy like Joe’s–someone who overcame long odds, who became humble, and who served others on a daily basis, sacrificing day after day for the benefit of someone else. Of course, the quintessential saint who gets pointed to oftentimes for such sacrificial care is Mother Teresa.
Many of us know her story and how she became a nun and started the Sisters of Charity in Calcutta working among the poorest of the poor–oftentimes simply holding their hand to let them die in dignity. As Christians, we cherish such sacrifice and hold her up as a living saint.
Another example we often use of sainthood is an evangelist who not only preaches God’s Word to the masses but who lives and exemplary lifestyle. In this instance, I am speaking of Billy Graham. Most of us here this morning know of him and how he drew thousands upon thousands to his crusades for Christ.
Movingly and eloquently, he preached the Gospel to believers and non-believers alike. Thousands came to know and love Jesus Christ through Billy Graham’s preaching, and his humble attitude and lifestyle. He was an adviser to several presidents of the United States, not only because of what he did, but also how he lived his life. He was a devoted father and husband and didn’t take an exorbitant salary for what he did. Yes, Billy Graham is also considered a living saint.
And most of us as we consider what it means to be a saint hold up these and other figures like them. We think of them as so utterly holy and filled with the Spirit of God, that we could never be like them. They must be super special people, and we can’t even begin to imitate them.
And, honestly, when we think like this, we are correct. Most of us are not like Mother Teresa. Most of us are not like Billy Graham. Most of us aren’t even like Joe in the story told by Tony Campolo. We don’t do the things they do. We don’t talk like they talk. We aren’t touching as many lives as they are touching. But does this mean we are somehow less saints than them?
No. For our second lesson today clearly lets us know just where we stand in our relationship to God. John writes, "See what love the Father has given us, that we should be called children of God; and that is what we are. The reason the world does not know us is that it did not know him. 2Beloved, we are God’s children now; what we will be has not yet been revealed. What we do know is this: when he is revealed, we will be like him, for we will see him as he is. 3And all who have this hope in him purify themselves, just as he is pure. "
John is clearly telling us that we are God’s children now. We are loved by God, now. This is not in dispute. We also know from this text that we haven’t been perfected yet. "What we will be has not been revealed. What we do know is this: when He is revealed we will be like Him, for we will see Him as He is." So when the Father is revealed, we will be brought to perfection. We will be brought to the place where we should be. But in the meantime, "all who have this hope in Him purify themselves, just as He is pure." Now what does that mean?
Some might say this means we are to become perfect, we are to drive all sin from our thoughts and minds and bodies. That would be a wonderful thing to do. I haven’t yet met anyone who has been able to accomplish such a thing. Even Mother Teresa and Billy Graham and Joe haven’t been able to do that. So if it doesn’t necessarily mean becoming completely free from sin, what does it mean to become pure?
I’d like to turn once more to this book that I read from last week concerning truth. This time, I’d like to read a snippet from Mary Poplin who wrote a book entitled, Finding Calcutta. I’ve actually got this book on order and can’t wait to read it. But in A Place for Truth, Poplin writes these words:
That’s why, of course, she could minister to Princess Diana as easily as the poorest people on the streets, which was her ministry. But then she pointed and shook her finger at me (people always say, "Wasn’t she sweet?" I always say, "No. She was strong"). Then she said, "But God does call everybody to a Calcutta. You have to find yours."
Where is yours? Is it in downtown Houston at a law firm? Is it in a hospital as a doctor or a nurse? Is it in a school as a teacher? Is it in the countryside as a rancher? Is it at home as a mom? Is it at a nursing home cheering up residents? In all of these places and in many, many more you can proclaim the grace, love and mercy of God. You can bring His light into that place.
Now, you may never, ever encounter the public spotlight. You may never end up in a pastor’s sermon. You may never touch thousands of people with what you do. But you will make a difference in the life of someone. You will show someone the love of God. You will find your Calcutta because that’s what saints do. Amen.
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