Have you heard it? It echoes down the corridors of time and beckons to every corner of the world. It came to Abraham on a distant plain, to Moses from a smoke covered mountain, to David in a deep valley, and to Paul along a dusty road. It addressed young Samuel in the darkness of the night and old Jonah in the heat of the day. Elijah discerned it in the midst of sheer silence and Isaiah amid the ceremonious voices of celebration. For Ezekiel it came through an apocalyptic vision, and for Jeremiah it was a simple voice. It comes to believers like Mary and doubters like Thomas, to the faithful like John and to the faithless like Peter. Like the laborers in the vineyard, some hear it in the morning, some at midday, and some in the afternoon. There is no pattern or logic to it. It just arrives whenever. And when it does break forth, the only right response is to answer in surrender, “Speak, for your servant is listening” (1 Sam 3:10).

James Weldon Johnson tells the story of an old-time preacher who, after reading a rather cryptic passage from the Scripture, took off his spectacles, closed the Bible with a bang, and announced: “Brothers and sisters, this morning I intend to explain the unexplainable, find out the indefinable, ponder over the imponderable, and unscrew the inscrutable” (God’s Trombones, 5). Unlike the old-time preacher, I won’t try to loosen too many screws. I invite you simply to listen, not just with your ears, but with your heart. For the almighty and sovereign God who called forth creation and redemption with a word, is still calling: “He calls his own by name and leads them out. . . His own follow him because they know his voice” (Jn 10:3-4). Do you hear the call?

One of the disconcerting facts facing the Church of Jesus Christ today is that the number of young men and women who are answering “the call” is declining. Many young people today are like Jayber Crow, the main character in Wendell Berry’s novel, who wonders if maybe God is calling him. Young J. Crow, twice-orphaned, begins to suspect he might be called, but confesses that with all his heart he disliked the idea of becoming a preacher (Jayber Crow, 42-43). Even more troublesome is the fact that many young would-be-preachers like Jayber Crow wonder and waver about the direction of their call. It’s not surprising that so many drop out somewhere along the way as he did.

In the state of North Carolina where I now live, one-third of our Baptist ministerial leadership is over 55 years old and only 7percent is under 35. You don’t have to take a course in statistics to recognize the impending leadership crisis we’re facing. It means in the decade of 2012 (only 10 years from now) there will be almost five times as many experienced leaders retiring as there will be young leaders to take their place. These figures are fairly representative of the big picture in Baptist life as well as with mainline Protestants. For Catholics the impending crisis is even more serious: Almost 70 percent of priests in the US are over 55 and only 6percent are under 35. It’s so bad that I heard about a priest who won a set of “his and hers” towels at a raffle. When he started to give them away, the bishop shot back: “You better hang on to those father. The way things are going these days you may need them.”

Not only are fewer young people responding to the call than in the past, those that do follow God’s call into ministry are less inclined to serve the church. A major study conducted recently by Auburn Seminary of New York found, among other things, that only 30% of younger first-year seminarians declared their intention to serve in congregational ministry and that less than half of those who start seminary studies ever graduate (“Is There a Problem?” Auburn Studies, July 2001).

We are somewhat encouraged at Duke Divinity School because about 80% of those who enroll in a degree program complete it, and we see the percentage of those wanting to do local church ministry rise significantly to about 90% by graduation. Of the almost 500 students at the Divinity School, just under 100 are Baptist. We get some of the most promising future leaders in Baptist life. It’s exciting to prepare today the ministers of tomorrow for churches like Wilshire. These are all hopeful signs. Goodness knows, the Church of Jesus Christ desperately needs spiritually gifted and theologically educated leadership for the future, but there is a problem. Young men and women seem to be resistant to the call—to hear it, heed it, and live it. What’s going on? Why are they pulling back from God’s call to ministry in the church?

There are at least four reasons for their reluctance. One is declining salaries. In the 1950s and 60s ministerial compensation was comparable to that of law and medicine. Now a full-time, seminary-educated pastor with a family can expect an average annual salary of only $37,000. They are getting the message loud and clear.

A second reason so many young people are choosing other careers is the diminishing status of ministry. Confidence in the ministry among people age 25-40 has plummeted to a low point of 20% compared with much higher levels exhibited by other age groups. Read the newspaper, and it’s not hard to see why they have lost confidence.

That’s not all. Young men and women also recognize the demanding responsibilities that the ministry places on life. To be “successful” pastors have to work hard, not just 40 hours a week, but 60, 80, or more. Who wants a career with low pay, high stress, and long hours?

Add to these factors the reality of disintegrating Christendom. No longer is North America a “churched” culture. As Lesslie Newbigin has been reminding us over the last decade (and John Howard Yoder over a lifetime), we are living in a society where the Christian faith is no longer dominant. Reaching people with the gospel is hard because it goes against the grain of the general culture. In short, it requires conversion.

So why would you want a job that can’t support a family, won’t get respect, makes unrealistic demands, and goes against the basic beliefs of society? I can’t think of a good reason unless the Almighty Master of the universe calls you by name and leads you there.

Of course the news on the theological education front isn’t all bad. Significant numbers of men and women are leaving jobs in the secular work force and entering the ministry. Disenchanted by the treadmill existence of more and bigger and better, their ears and hearts and lives are open. Many are receiving “the call” in mid-life. They are entering the ministry because they want to help people find meaning and purpose by understanding what it means to live in relation to God. The “second career” phenomenon accounts for the fact that the average age of seminary students today is 35 years old. Their entry into the pool of ministry candidates somewhat counter-balances the shortfall of younger folks entering the ministry. Without them the future for the Church would surely be less hopeful.

But doesn’t all this talk about vocational ministry miss the larger message of today’s Gospel reading? Isn’t the point that God calls every believer, not just preachers and missionaries? If that is what you’ve been thinking, then you are exactly right. The Psalmist so beautifully reminds us that “[The Lord] is our God, and we are the people of his pasture, and the sheep of his hand” (Ps 95:7). But there is only one way to become part of the people of God: You have to pass through Jesus Christ, the Good Shepherd. He is the gate. Those who try to get in by any other way are thieves and bandits. They don’t belong.

The last two years I’ve run in the Boston marathon. Unlike most other races, you have to qualify for Boston. When it comes time to start, not just anyone is allowed to jump in. Runners are put inside fenced areas according to their qualifying time, and at the gate there are officials who stand guard to keep out the “bandits.” No one is allowed on the course unless they pass through the gate. They try to keep everyone out except those who’ve actually qualified, but in fact some bandits do run. An estimated 4,000 made it onto the course this year. Some jump over the barriers. Others step out from the crowd along the way. But they don’t have an official race number on their shirt or a champion-chip in their shoelaces, and they won’t get to run across the finish line or receive a medallion at the end. They’re bandits. The only way to finish the race begins at the gate, goes through the scream tunnel at Wellesley, over the hills of Newton, down Commonwealth Avenue to Copley Plaza, and across the finish line. There’s just one way.

In his wonderful story, The Pilgrim’s Progress, John Bunyan reminds us that for Christians there is only one way to life. It passes through the Wicket Gate, by way of the Cross, into the watery grave of the River of Death, and at last between the gates of the Celestial City. When Christian and Hopeful finally reach the end of their long journey, they are given new clothes, and crowns, and harps. Then with the multitude there gathered, they sing praises to the One who sits on the throne and to the Lamb. When Christian looks back, he sees Ignorance standing at the gates of the great city. But Ignorance has entered by another way than the Wicket Gate. He has not come to the Cross, and he has ferried over the River without passing through its waters. His name is not written in the book, and he has no witness to eternal life. So the angels take him away and cast him into outer darkness. By way of conclusion Bunyan remarks: “Then I knew that there was a way to hell from the gates of Heaven as well as from the City of Destruction.”

And so it is today that Jesus stands at the entrance of the Church. No one gets in unless they pass through him. Now, here is the good news: He knows you, he calls you by name, and he invites you to enter into this place of safety and salvation. Young and old, rich and poor, women and men—he’s calling. It may not mean more money, respect, leisure, or power, but it is the way that leads to life. Do you really want the emptiness and loneliness that our world calls success? Wouldn’t you rather give yourself to something that will outlast you? Jesus Christ, the Good Shepherd, calls you out of this culture of death into the way of abundant life. He is calling today—softly and tenderly. If you listen, it just might be your name. Shhhh! Do you hear it?

If you would like to examine the data from the Auburn study it may be accessed at the following location http://www.auburnsem.org/studies/8_problem/