Called, Discouraged, Sent

A Reflection on Isaiah 49:1-7 and John 1:29-42

Miller’s Station UMC

18 January 2026

This week, we encounter a different account to Jesus’ ministry. At his Baptism in the Jordan River, last Sunday’s focus, Jesus was revealed by the presence of the Holy Spirit in the form of a dove and the voice of his Father from heaven declaring him to be his beloved Son, with whom he is well pleased. This was the Spirit’s sign to John the Baptist that identified Jesus as the Messiah. Now John speaks: “Behold, the Lamb of God, who takes away the sin of the world!” (John 1:29). Not just the sins of Israel. “It is too light a thing that you should be my servant to raise up the tribes of Jacob and to bring back the preserved of Israel; I will make you as a light for the nations, that my salvation may reach to the end of the earth.” Our text from Isaiah is in the same series of servant stories that we read last week.

As servants of Christ and the mission of the kindom of God, we are called and we are seekers. It is a path of becoming. It can be a path of discouragement. Today, I want to explore our path of seeking, explore our calling and how our life is meant to be lived with intentionality and purpose – in spite of challenges and hardships.

God’s Call and Our Journey

I remember my calling to be a pastor. While I did not understand what was happening at the time, 30 years on, I understand this moment now as a mystical experience and one that I have never really had with the same intensity since. What developed over a week’s time has turned into a lifelong process of becoming that went from being called, to be being discouraged to finally figuring out what it means to be sent.

In our Isaiah text, we again hear from the servant and here, we hear that the servant is called from the womb and named before birth. In this powerful lesson, we learn that God’s purpose for us starts long before we recognize it. Looking back, I see how the bible that my Grandpa gave me and the subsequent impromptu “bible studies” I offered in the library with my friends before school laid the the groundwork for my eventual call. Looking back now, I see how God set me up to see if I could handle the call at the time. It turned out that I really was not ready for the call as I thought I understood it and really would not get my head around the concept until the last several years, around 25 years past the experience. Here, I learned that our identity is rooted in God’s intention, not our performance. The take away from all of this is that our lives are not accidental, God’s calling over our lives predates our awareness. This is why we must always face the Son and set our intention each day to embody the Christ presence in all we do.

Sometimes it does not always work out. The servant in Isaiah admits that they have “labored in vain.” I wonder how the disciples felt after following Jesus for three years only to watch their hopes and dreams nailed to the cross. I wonder too how this church as many of our churches feel these days as our numbers have dwindled and we are shells of our former selves – discouraged, angry, frustrated and invisible. The Good News is this, even those called by God face seasons of frustration and invisibility. Feeling ineffective doesn’t mean God is inactive.

This truth—that our identity and calling originate in God’s intention—anchors us not only in Isaiah’s story, but in the larger narrative of Jesus’ ministry and our own spiritual journeys. Just as the servant in Isaiah is chosen before birth, and just as Jesus is revealed and affirmed at his baptism, our own calls are woven into the fabric of God’s purpose long before we recognize them. The process of becoming—moving from being called, through periods of discouragement, to ultimately being sent—mirrors the journey of Christ himself and the unfolding of God’s kingdom mission in the world.

As we follow this thread through the scriptures, we see a divine pattern: God calls individuals not just for their own sake, but for the sake of others—for the sake of the world. The Lamb of God, proclaimed by John, comes not only for Israel but to bring salvation to the ends of the earth. Our stories, then, are never isolated; they are part of the greater story of redemption and restoration. Each day, as we set our intention to embody the presence of Christ, we participate in this expansive calling—living with purpose, seeking God, and serving as reflections of divine light to those around us.

Faithfulness matters even when results don’t show.

Beholding the Lamb Clarifies Our Calling

In the Gospel of John, Jesus’ question “what are you seeking” is not merely a casual inquiry but a profound invitation for deeper reflection. This question invites us to engage deeply in self examination. The context, where two of John the Baptist’s disciples are following Him, signifies a shift from the prophetic tradition towards a personal relationship with Jesus.

John declares Jesus “the Lamb of God who takes a way the sin of the world.” As I have mentioned before, the bible was not written for us modern readers in mind so this passage has lost it’s cultural and historical significance. But for the hearers of this story, the Passover Lamb was a symbol of salvation and liberation. First noted in Exodus 12, the lamb represented a act of deliverance and in the cultural context, resonates with Jesus being the ultimate for humanity’s “sin”. The ancient Jewish people who would later follow the Jesus story had deep messianic expectations. The concept of the suffering servant in Isaiah 53 further enhances this understanding the servant, described as being led to the slaughter, parallels the destiny of Jesus. The early Jewish community would grasp these connections, framing Jesus not just as a rabbi but as the fulfillment of messianic prophecy.

When we encounter Jesus, we too are like the early Jewish followers, often in danger of being overrun by plagues. Just as the sacrificial lamb offered protection from these plagues, encountering Jesus and seeing Jesus clearly helps us understand our true identity and purpose. When we truly see Jesus for who He is—the Lamb who brings redemption—it reorients our desires, priorities, and understanding of God’s mission. Rather than seeking our own agendas, we are invited to align with God’s greater purpose, allowing His vision to shape how we live and serve. In this way, clarity of calling is not found in striving, but in a posture of attentive presence to Jesus.

Following Jesus Unlocks Who We Become

As a clinician, I encounter anxiety in many forms, both in my own life and in the lives of those I serve. One of the simplest techniques I offer my clients—simply to “just notice,” without overthinking or rushing to fix—often turns out to be the most challenging to practice. It’s the invitation to observe, to be present, to let go of striving. In a similar way, Jesus’s invitation to “come and see” is strikingly simple, yet profoundly difficult. He doesn’t ask us to have it all figured out; instead, He calls us to follow Him with simple, trusting obedience.

Yet, just like my clients, we too can stumble—we overthink, we hesitate, we let fears or doubts hold us back. Even Peter, the boldest of the disciples, falters again and again. And still, Jesus continues to invite, to welcome, to call us forward, step by step.

There’s a word that often trips us up—myth. In our culture, “myth” is sometimes misunderstood as something false or fanciful. But in its richest sense, a myth is a story that shapes us, a narrative that carries truth deeper than facts alone can reach. The story of Jesus, for the early Christians, became such a narrative. It was not a tale detached from reality, but rather, a living story that gave meaning, purpose, and identity. The “myth” of Jesus isn’t about escapism—it is the narrative that unlocks our true selves and shows us that life is more than mere existence.

Look at verse 39 in John chapter 1: the would-be disciples not only “went and saw,” but they chose to remain with Jesus. They stayed where He was staying. This act of remaining—of abiding—foreshadows another moment much later, after the resurrection, on the road to Emmaus. There, after hours of walking and talking, Jesus is recognized in the breaking of bread. Both moments remind us that transformation happens not in a single encounter, but in the quiet, sometimes lengthy, process of staying present with Christ.

It’s only in verse 40 that we learn the name of one of these first followers: Andrew, a former disciple of John the Baptist. Andrew, after encountering Jesus, immediately goes to find his brother Simon—Peter, the one we so often identify with, in his zeal and his failures alike. Andrew tells Peter, “We have found the Messiah.” That word “found” in the Greek perfect tense, means that Andrew has reached the end of a long search—he has encountered the fulfillment of ancient promises and personal longing. He heard John’s testimony, saw the Spirit’s presence, accepted Jesus’s invitation, and now he knows—not just in theory, but in lived, experimental knowledge—who Jesus truly is.

Friends, what does this mean for us? It means that our identity, our calling, our very sense of who we are, is discovered as we walk with Jesus—step by step, day by day. Like Andrew, we are invited to move from curiosity to commitment, from seeking to finding, from anxiety to abiding. The clarity of our calling isn’t something we achieve by striving harder, but something that grows as we remain with Jesus, allowing His presence to shape us.

To close, let us hear the invitation again today: “Come and see.” Let us not be afraid to pause, to notice, to remain. For as we walk with Jesus, we discover not only who He is—but who we are, and who we are becoming, in Him. God’s call is intentional, faithfulness matters even in discouragement, and our calling is part of God’s expansive, outward – moving mission. The size of our church does not matter, our intention does. Whether this church grows or dwindles, we are called, our mission is not about this building, our mission is about the community we create. Our identity is secure because we are rooted in Christ.

Amen.