Who’s Following Whom?

I’ve been away this week, taking my last classroom class — I also have a how-to writing class which I’ll take in January and then I’ll need to write a thesis — but this was an end. It’s an end of something I’ve enjoyed and loved, of learning that I related to, of spaces where I’ve been annoyed and grown, and like all goodness, been drawn into. 

I’d like to imagine Matthew, all of us being drawn into the goodness, called by Jesus, God, Spirit, whatever drew you into goodness that you just can’t say no to. Because isn’t that what happened to Matthew? 

Wasn’t he drawn into the goodness of God, that goodness that called you and me, that goodness that has called generations of Christians in the past, present, and future? 

Here are some things that we know about Matthew. 

Matthew worked for empire. He collected the taxes that the Romans required, the money used for the Roman roads, the garrisons of soldiers that controlled the masses, the governors that ruled, and even the crucifixions for the outlaws, and the cash that made Rome the most prosperous city in the world. It wasn’t a pretty job. Matthew had to work against his own kin, demanding from them money they often couldn’t afford. And then there was the fact that Matthew had to collect his own salary as well — tax collectors were known as cheaters and crooks, as they embezzled money from the people to keep themselves in luxury while the rest starved.  

Who knows why he was in this role. It could have been that there were no options for Matthew and his family. It could have been that he was seduced by power and even greed. Yet we know that Jesus had a soft spot for tax collectors. It wasn’t just Matthew that Jesus brought into the fold, there was also Zaccheus, that “wee little man” who went up into the tree. Jesus saw him, then… “I’m coming to your house today.” 

Neither Zaccheus nor Matthew were popular with their neighbors. They didn’t participate in Jewish life. They were traitors to their own. 

Matthew’s job was like the overseer's job during the time of enslavery. The overseers made sure the enslaved people did what they were bought to do. Work the land. Harvest the crops, especially the sugarcane, tobacco, and cotton, the cash crops that made empire possible. The overseer knew they were tools of those who owned the slaves, and they demanded results by force, so that those who owned the enslaved could keep “their hands clean.” By all accounts, it was a terrible job.  

That’s why what happened next was so very unlikely. 

Jesus called Matthew. And he followed. 

But why would Jesus call such a man? He was one of the hated, one of the “other,” one who could not be redeemed, who wasn’t right, wasn’t clean, wasn’t a good man. And still. Jesus calls him. 

And he follows. 

And that’s that. 

That's that, at least until Jesus follows him back! He follows Matthew to his house for that party, one of the many that gives Jesus a bad rap, “the one who eats with tax collectors and sinners.” When the “good people” won’t hang out with you, you’ve got to find other friends. 

Matthew’s friends weren’t the kind that you brought home to mama. They were the other, the ones on the edge, the ones who didn’t fulfill expectations, whose jobs were “complicated” and downright yucky, just like the overseer. Who would befriend an overseer? Not the enslaved. Not the owner or his family. Like Matthew, part of the grungy underworld. 

But Jesus calls Matthew and he follows him, and Jesus follows him back. 

I know you’ve seen that sticker on people’s cars, one that celebrates dogs adopted from a shelter. “Who rescued who?” It says. Theoretically, we rescued our old dog Lissie. Theoretically, she was in a shelter and needed a home. Theoretically, we went to the Petco that day and picked her out. Theoretically, she became part of our family because we opened our home to a new puppy. But the story was so much more than that. Sure, we loved her. But then she loved us back and slowly and surely, her love changed us. She became something other than the frightened puppy that came home with us that day and began to put her spin on our household. Dogs can be rather persuasive, letting you know quite clearly what they want when they want it and so that was the way of Lissie, and before we knew it, she’d trained us well, and the dog that we rescued, rescued us right back, in that beautiful give and take of gift. 

So Matthew follows Jesus and then Jesus follows right back, to that place where all of his people who could still stand him were hanging out. 

Jesus follows Matthew all the way to his house, where all of ‘em, were hanging out, the ones that didn’t fit anywhere else, the ones not welcome elsewhere in good homes, the strays and those on the edge, the sinners. 

So who rescued who? Who taught who? 

Could it have been that being with those sinners, those friends and family of Matthew, taught Jesus something invaluable and essential to his ministry? Could it have been that this time that Jesus hung out with these ruffians, showed Jesus something? The kindom of God is easier to pitch to outcasts and strays than to the fancy folks. It’s mercy, not sacrifice. God came for the sinners, not the righteous. Thanks Matthew! 

Who rescued who? Who followed who? 

And this is the ministry of Jesus, the one who comes to be with us, who asks us to follow him, to leave behind our small minded ways, to come to the party, the one with tax collectors and sinners, the one with overseers and gays, the one with the outcasts and strays. 

Our relationship with God was never meant to be a flat, boring relationship of perfect obedience. That’s not the relationships that Jesus had with his disciples, not the relationship that God has with humans. No. It’s one of give and take, of gift giving, of ourselves freely offered and then God giving back, again and again and again, over and over and over.  It’s a relationship of delight, of God smiling on us, and then us giving to the world because of all of the beautiful excess of that love, all of the glorious gifts. It’s one of us loving the strays and the outcasts, the poor and the afflicted, the sorrowful, the tax collectors and the sinners, remembering that they will know Jesus in a way that is impossible for us good church people. It’s one where we love because of that goodness, because it’s impossible to let that just sit without action, without gratitude, without that love spilling over in the rest of our lives. 

It wasn’t just Matthew that Jesus called. It’s also us. It wasn’t just Matthew that followed Jesus and then visa versa. It’s also us.