Bumper Sticker Faith - 1 Corinthians 1:10-18; Matthew 4:12-23

My first car was a 1999 gold Mazda 626 that my parents bought from an ad in the newspaper. I named him Charlie and I covered the back half in bumper stickers. Don’t judge me too harshly. I was only 17 and I was desperate for anyone and everyone to know about all the important opinions I held and places I’d been, and indie bands I was listening to. And I wanted to stand out from the crowd in my high school parking lot, although most of my classmates drove souped up pick-up trucks or brightly colored VW Beetles, so that was really a lost cause.

But by the time I got a new car five years later, I had changed my tune. I had discovered that I am not, in fact, a bumper sticker girl. I don’t like being so easily recognized in public, especially on a day when I’m not my best driving self. And I don’t like having to make small talk about a band I haven’t listened to in years that had a cool logo back in the day. I also got a little overwhelmed by how bumper sticker culture really took off in the early aughts. They were absolutely everywhere, but I only had the one car, so how could I possibly choose between them all? Essentially, performative identity via bumper sticker was wearing me out.

This morning, I find myself wondering if your friend and mine, the apostle Paul was having some of these same thoughts when writing his first letter to the Christians in Corinth. He bemoans a rumor he recently heard about them. “For it has been reported to me by Chloe’s people that there are quarrels among you, my brothers and sisters. What I mean is that each of you says, “I belong to Paul,” or “I belong to Apollos,” or “I belong to Cephas,” or “I belong to Christ.” Has Christ been divided?”

Paul wasn’t necessarily putting anyone down. It’s not that Paul or Apollos or Cephas aren’t good examples worthy of our attention. But the line between respect or admiration and identity-consuming devotion can be a slippery slope, and Paul worried that these public displays of allegiance were contaminating the Corinthians’ proclamation of the Gospel of Christ.

My teenage bumper sticker debacle is small potatoes in comparison, but the same logic applies. Anything we decide to stand behind and commit to has the power to consume us if we let it. This is a very important warning in our socially and politically divided culture. We signal our loyalty constantly: from bumper stickers to social media posts, from yard signs to voting practices, from our mouths to where we put our money. But claiming allegiance can be dangerous, so we should be careful and prayerful when we do it.

I read a quote this week that would make a killing as a bumper sticker. “Jesus is not partisan, but he’s not neutral either.” Jesus claimed his allegiance firmly and dramatically, but not with a logo and not by supporting a political organization. He did it with his life. He put his time, his love, and his body in the midst of vulnerable people, praising and thanking God all the while. His actions proclaimed who and what was most important to him and to God.

You’ve heard Paul say “faith without works is dead.” I think a 21st century version would be, “bumper stickers without action are useless.” Jesus didn’t just tell it, he lived it, and he calls his disciples to do the same. In our Gospel passage this morning we heard the calling of the first disciples, which in Matthew’s version are the brothers Simon Peter and Andrew.

He asked them to join him. He didn’t ring their doorbell and ask for their vote. He didn’t offer them a sticker for their Mazda. He didn’t even invite them to church next Sunday. Jesus asks those first disciples to drop everything, quit their jobs, leave their homes, and follow him. He invites them to claim allegiance and then back it up with their words, their choices, their relationships, and their time.

There’s no performative identity here. There is only a new way of life, which is life-giving and challenging and joyful and holy. And like Jesus himself, the life of discipleship is not neutral. It does not support all systems equally. It does not try to make room for all the different sides when it comes to poor and vulnerable people. The life of discipleship is decidedly on the side of the poor, the endangered, the imprisoned, the sick, the lonely, and those who are overpowered by others. It is not signified by a bumper sticker, a yard sign, or even a vote. It is signified by the sacrificial love of the cross.

Now, Christ Church just happens to have some fabulous bumper stickers that we would love for you all to display proudly on your vehicles, your water bottles, your laptops, wherever you’d like - if that’s your thing, of course. They are not meant to promote any particular ideology or signify any particular political leanings. They are not about performing the identity of a Christ Churcher.

My hope for the bumper stickers is twofold. First, I hope that they remind you of your call to discipleship when you need it. We all need that reminder. And secondly, I hope they are tools for proclamation. I hope that our community sees Christ Church stickers in places where Jesus can be found: with the vulnerable among us. If someone asks you about your bumper sticker, I hope you tell them what this place means to you, and how it strengthens your life of discipleship.

Of course, slapping on a bumper sticker is easy. It’s much harder to put down our nets to follow Jesus. But that is the real work of faith, of faithfulness to the most important cause we can align ourselves with, the Gospel of Christ. If we could shift even a little of our cultural loyalty and performative identity towards proclaiming Christ crucified, just imagine what we could accomplish.

So let’s answer the call to discipleship together, starting right here in downtown Little Rock. As we inch closer to reopening our parish house, let’s dream big about how we can use it to care for the vulnerable and bring joy to the downtrodden. Let our bumper stickers be just the starting point of a new era of spreading the Good News to our neighborhood and to the whole world. Amen.