When someone calls you by name, your full name, you can bet there’s going to be trouble. That’s what middle names are for, right? To let you know that you’ve been caught with your hand in the cookie jar.

However, when we think about God knowing us and calling us by name, it seems to invoke a different feeling. We imagine that God calling upon us, individually, is a spiritual blessing. Touched by the hand of God, we instantly become invincible, strong, and courageous. Called by the voice of God, we feel a rush of emotion and love that could make anything possible. That’s how it goes, right? Those called by God are protected and loved even more so than those who are just regular old believers who haven’t yet gotten “the call.”

I’d think that were so too – but – I’ve read too much about callings in scripture to be that naive. My guess is that most people really don’t want to be called by God, and especially don’t want to be singled out, by name, for God’s special responsibilities. Remember, God chose Israel. Can you think of any other nation more conflicted; that has been uprooted more times; or cursed by more trouble? Seems unlikely! God chose that nation, by name, as a favorite. The stories in scripture about God’s favorites are awful. God’s chosen ones live lives full of gruesome choices, near misses, heavy punishments, and trials upon trials. Jesus was also a favorite, a beloved son, and things really didn’t turn out so well for him. Sure, God promises redemption, and God promises to walk with the chosen ones through flood and fire. But other things being equal, I’d prefer to forego the flood and fire myself. Most of us would.

Even when Jesus calls someone by name to be healed, the story is often accompanied by, shall we say, some unintended consequences. He could cast out demons – a good thing to be sure – but I bet after those pigs rushed down the steep bank and drowned themselves in the lake those swineherds were not too happy with Jesus. Those who saw this unreal and miraculous healing were afraid of Jesus. And then for the man who was healed of demons so fierce that they broke every conceivable restraint – did Jesus even think about how he would re-enter his family or his community? How could he possibly perform the task Jesus asked of him and describe to others what God had done?

Callings are far more than vocational choices, and they are more than merely reading the coincidences of our lives to determine what’s next. Callings, the kind that come from God, are transformative, and transformation implies radical change. The man who was possessed by demons, naked, and living in the tombs met Jesus, and when they saw him next, he was sitting at Jesus’ feet, clothed, and in his right mind. Of course, we look at this kind of transformation and assume that it couldn’t be anything but a radical change for the better. Who wouldn’t want to be healed from a legion of demons?

Looking into that poor man’s eyes, Jesus saw a human being underneath all the craziness. “What is your name?” he asks. “I have called you by name,” says the Lord. And yet, the demonic still exists, and it frequently it resides in us. Naked? Living in tombs? That may not be us. And yet we suffer from the same kinds of imprisonment and isolation. From today’s confessional prayer, we can name those forces of evil that torment us and restrict our possibilities, things like: bitterness and jealousy, resentment and envy, selfishness and pride, self-loathing and contempt. Then there are always more sins in our repertoires that remain unnamed and untamed just like the Gerasene’s demons had been. Are we ready for Jesus to cast out this legion from our midst? What would it look like if that happened - here? Are we ready to give up the demonic spirits that torment us and then tell the story of God’s transformative power?

From the pages of scripture to the personal stories I’ve heard that are too powerful to be untrue, the callings I recognize as callings are almost always two-fold. When someone is called, by name, by God (and I’m not just talking about the clergy here – but anyone who hears that call), the first part of that call is an absolutely terrifying moment of God speaking your name directly – middle name included. It is an invitation to change – change behaviors, change thoughts, change direction, or change purpose. And as one’s interior landscape is being reformed, it can change the exterior landscape as well – a change of name, or address, or profession. The “call” jumps the person out of his or her comfort zones. It’s an agitation, a restlessness, a boredom with what is, and a burning desire to know what could be.

The second part of that call is being willing to live differently because God has called you to do so. It means letting the demons go. We sometimes don’t know how to do that. We become too familiar and comfortable with what is to even be curious about what could be. As I said, I’ve read the call stories in scripture. There are hundreds of them. Those who are called, often have a checkered past. They may not seem, or feel themselves to be, worthy of the call. They have to give up hate, or shame, or fear, or the presence of demons for God to be able to work in their lives. Israel, the chosen nation, is pushed and pulled by God through history – good times and bad. Then, perhaps contrary to what one might think, in answering the call, the danger doesn’t go away, in fact it multiplies. God’s chosen ones are persecuted, ridiculed, and discounted for their commitments by the ways of the world. God’s chosen ones know intimately the flood and the fire. And yet, they trust in God to both throw them into those prickly situations, and then to get them back out again.

As my favorite Emily Dickinson poem reads, “Far from love the Heavenly Father leads the chosen child; oftener through the realm of briar, than the meadow mild; oftener by claw of dragon than the hand of friend, guides the little one predestined to the native land.”

The poem reminds me again and again that experiencing God’s favor is not always a happy thing. God doesn’t call us to go shopping at the mall or to come over for dinner. God doesn’t even call us to give our lives over to Jesus – as we might hear as an expectation in the culture of Christianity in which we live. When God calls, it is because God needs you, right now, to give up and grow up, to jump in the briar patch, grab the claw of a dragon and start doing the work of heaven on earth.

For too long, we’ve minimized the call of the Christian as something synonymous with going to church, putting money in the plate, and maybe teaching a Sunday school class, or serving on an administrative board. My friends, that’s nowhere near what it means to be in radical relationship with the God who can take what has been dead and breathe life into it again. In fact, I sometimes question if the church itself has become deaf to God’s call. Now, I know individuals, amazing Christians, who follow the path God sets out for them, and perhaps that’s really how spiritual transformation has been communicated all along, but churches have become way, way too much about being safe and secure than about hearing how God is calling them to give up their demons and grow into new life where they can declare, by their right minds, what God has done for them.

The man cured of demons was called upon by Jesus to do nothing more and nothing less than tell his story. That’s the part of the call that whole church communities are commissioned to do, and that some do better than others. This is a story-telling community, so declare, DECLARE boldly and faithfully what God has done for you. That’s following the call of God. It’s too easy for us to flip it around and ignorantly and arrogantly claim what we are doing for God instead of what God has already done for us. If we begin to think that we’re doing God a favor through our worship, or teaching, or even through our good deeds, we’ve missed the point. God doesn’t need us; but we most certainly need God.

Amen.