May 4: The Third Sunday of Easter

Ever since I joined St. Mary’s Youth Group back in the fifth grade, I’ve been lucky enough to go on many mission trips. Each one had different destinations, different youth directors, different chaperones—but the same purpose: to serve, to grow, and find community.

One trip in particular has always stuck with me. It was summer, and five girls; one boy; David May, our former rector; and our other chaperone, Patsy; and I crammed ourselves into a tiny minivan and drove all the way to Savannah, Georgia. We slept on air mattresses in the basement of a local church, and every day we woke up and worked on a different service project around the city, and every night we kept our chaperones up with our giggles, whispered voices, and texting.

But honestly? The moments I remember most vividly didn’t happen during our service work. They happened in that crammed little van, traveling together around the city.

One evening, we were driving around Savannah, just exploring, maybe headed to dinner, I don’t quite remember. But we were stopped at a red light when a homeless woman came up to the van, asking for money.

Then something surprising happened. David, who was sitting in the front passenger seat, suddenly opened the door and jumped out of the van. Right there, in the middle of the intersection. He approached her, and the rest of us just stared, wide-eyed and unsure of what to do. The light turned green, and after a few uncertain glances at each other, we drove off without him.

To this day, I don’t remember what he tried to do to help the woman, and even how he managed to catch back up to us is a mystery – I only remember him appearing an hour or so later. But I do remember what question went through my mind in the moment: Was it really that easy to help someone?

Not that I think everyone should jump out of a car at a red light, but in that moment, something shifted for me. It wasn’t so much about what David did, but the way he did it, without hesitation. Without checking to see if he was qualified or if it was “the right time.” Without questioning himself or asking those around him for permission. He just saw a need and he responded instinctually. And it made me wonder: Do we make serving more complicated than it needs to be?

Personally, a lot of the time I’ve spent in my life “serving” has been on structured mission trips with St. Mary’s, or something that requires a sign-up sheet and a time slot to show up to. Not that these forms of service are bad at all! Serving alongside my St. Mary’s community has brought me so much fulfillment and deepened my relationship with Christ as I’m sure it has for many of you as well. But this experience made me recognize that you don’t need to fill out a SignUp Genius for your kind actions to count as service. Service doesn’t need to be something you plan months in advance, or schedule time for in your Google Calendar. It can be spontaneous, and simple, and small, and it doesn’t require the overplanning that can be associated with it. All it requires is you feeling God’s call, and a desire to spread Christ’s love. But how do we know when God is calling? How do we know when we’re ready?

In today’s reading, we meet Saul. A man with a violent past, a reputation rooted in fear and persecution. Then, suddenly—he’s knocked off his horse, blinded by God, and his life changes course completely. He becomes Paul, one of the most powerful messengers of Christ’s love.

I think about Saul’s transformation, and I wonder—how did he do that so quickly? I mean, three days is a long time to be blinded, don’t get me wrong, but considering how much of his life has been devoted to persecution, it seems like a relatively quick turnaround to me. So how did he trust so immediately? How did he make that change as purposefully as he did? And I think the answer is this: he didn’t waste time trying to prove he was ready. He just listened. He just did.

When I look at my own life, my own relationship with God, it’s not always that simple. I hesitate. I overthink. I ask questions like: Am I ready for what God wants from me? Am I good enough? Have I made too many mistakes? And instead of moving toward Him, I freeze. I plan, I analyze, I try to make myself “worthy.”

There’s this idea floating around that you have to love yourself before someone else can love you. And the more I think about it, the more I wonder if that’s really true. Because when I love someone, I don’t make them earn it. I don’t wait until they’re perfect, and confident. I just… love them. In fact, sometimes, I can’t help myself from loving them unconditionally, no strings attached or desire for anything in return. And I think God is the same way.

In our Gospel today, Jesus is at first unrecognized by his disciples, then welcomed joyously. As they eat an intimate meal together, he questions Peter, “Do you love me?” Peter responds, certainly, almost offended at such a question: “Yes lord, you know that I love you.” Jesus responds, “Feed my lambs.”

Jesus’s instructions, “feed my lambs”, “tend my sheep”, “feed my sheep”, and finally, “follow me” command Peter to look after his people, to live a life of service. And what qualification does he ask of him? He doesn’t ask him if he’s 18. He doesn’t ask him for a valid driver’s license or a social security card. He asks him simply, “Do you love me?”

Our only qualification, the only box we need to check to go out into the world and serve others and love others as Christ loved us, is to love God with all your heart. So much that even the questioning of it would seem absurd.

Because God doesn’t wait for us to be perfect, to be ready. He loves us, flaws and uncertainties and annoying questions and all. We don’t have to become our best selves before we’re worthy of God’s love, or his call. We don’t have to be polished or prepared. God doesn’t wait for perfection—He just calls us. And when we answer that call, that’s when we begin to change. Not the other way around.

As I look towards my future, I am at a brink with a lot of uncertainty. Thank goodness, I do know where I’m going to college now – to the relief of my parents. But I’m at a unique point in my life where I am truly, truly, going out into the world with no ability to know what’s coming at me, what’s planned for me. I often find myself pondering all the different scenarios for my future, what could be amazing and what could go wrong. I feel excitement. I feel fear. I feel uncertainty: both in myself and the factors out of my control. Will I be able to follow the path God has set before me? Will I rise to the occasion?

And in the face of all that uncertainty, it’s so hard, but there’s absolutely nothing I can do besides trust in God’s love, and God’s plan, and my ability to respond to his call, wherever it takes me.

So, I want you to remember this: There is no checklist for being loved by God. There is no audition to be chosen. Like Saul, like David in the minivan, all we have to do is respond. To say yes. To take action. Because God doesn’t call the qualified. He qualifies the called.

So, stop waiting. Stop wondering if you’re worthy. You already are.

Maddy Dunaway