This is the season of at least two kinds of fever going around.

The first is an elevated body temperature. The kind that accompanies an illness. After all, this is the flu season. And with the flu comes fever.

But a fever is a symptom of many diseases. All of us have had it at one time or another. Frequently, fevers are caused by bacterial infections, sometimes causing a fever to be extremely high. Several times when one of our children has been sick, my wife would say "He's on fire!"

Unless it's a family member we're nursing, we try to keep our distance from people with fevers, because the last thing we want to do is catch the fever.

There are risks to catching a fever:

schedule and lifestyle disruptions;
prolonged sickness and misery;
chills and discomfort;
hospitalization maybe even death in some cases.

But there's another kind of fever spreading this time of year: Basketball fever.

In January, many of us get basketball fever. College basketball, NBA, church league, whatever. We get the fever. I know of some businesses that shut down on the afternoon of the ACC tournament, and those employees who don't have tickets bring a TV and watch the games at the office.

Basketball fever! My alma mater, the University of North Carolina, began using a promotional slogan several years ago that said "Catch the Fever! Carolina Fever!"

That phrase has been used in professional baseball as well. A computer search on any search engine will reveal other teams that have used that phrase, which appears on T shirts, bumper stickers, drink cups, and the like.

Catch the Fever!

But there are risks to catching this kind of fever. You wind up spending lots of time and money on basketball. You suffer a near heart attack from getting worked up over a missed shot, or a foul with 8 seconds to go. And of course, there's the bitter agony of defeat.

Our Scripture this morning shows there's another kind of fever, and that no matter what the season is, we need to catch it!

It's a spiritual fever, the one Jesus had, that's so evident in everything we see and hear in this morning's text. It's the fever that God wants us to catch as we minister in his name in his world.

The passage starts with a physical fever, doesn't it? Jesus and some of his disciples have just left the synagogue on the Sabbath and have entered Simon Peter's house. Although the text doesn't say this, the custom of the day was to have the big meal of the Sabbath day at midday, after worship at the synagogue. Sort of like our Sunday dinner.

Immediately upon entering the house, the disciples tell Jesus about the illness of Peter's mother in law. And then Jesus heals her. And she serves them. I can see her bringing in platters of fried chicken, biscuits, and steaming hot bowls of greens and beans.

Everything about the way Jesus acts shows that he's not on the wavelength of the world, that he's marching to the beat of a different drummer. Jesus has a spiritual fever that causes people to think he's delirious.

When we think of Bible stories of Jesus' healing, we think of major illnesses. Leprosy. Blindness. Deafness. Paralysis. Compared to these, a fever seems like a petty ailment. And Mark doesn't even say it's a high fever just a fever. There's no indication that it's serious or life threatening. One commentator has suggested that Peter's mother in law would probably been well within several days, with proper rest and diet.

Why would Jesus spend his time or power on something as routine as a fever?

Then there's the fact that the patient is a woman, and the culture of that day didn't put women on the same social level as men. Women of honorable families were expected to protect their modesty by remaining in a private area of the home. For a male outsider to touch her violated conventional behavior. And didn't Jesus know that he might catch the fever, which would slow down his ministry?

Remember, this healing takes place in private, and is only witnessed by a few people. Why not heal her publicly, so the healing can be a witness for God's power, mercy, and glory?

This healing happened at home.

Home. You know, the place we forget our manners and concern for others. The place where we all too often ignore and take for granted those with whom we live.

Besides, this is a mother in law!!! You know, the person we make the butt of jokes! The one on the lowest rung of our family tree ladder!

And just why is Jesus concerned with healing her, anyway? Please notice the disciples never asked him to they just told him about her illness. They may have simply been explaining that her illness had slowed down the meal preparation, and dinner would be a little late.

After all, this was the Sabbath, and healing and all other forms of work were forbidden. So they may have had no idea that Jesus would be interested in healing her.

Even the way Jesus heals the fever is unexpected. The Talmud set forth an elaborate process for healing a fever, which called for repeatedly tying an iron knife to a thorn bush by a braid of hair.

But Jesus throws the rule book out the window. He goes do her, lifts her up, and touches her.

And she's healed.

On the Sabbath, mind you. This is the first healing reported in Mark's Gospel.

Don't tell me that Jesus is telling us that healing begins at home. That is the last place we want to do it. All too often, the healing words and touches we offer our colleagues and even competitors at work are left at the doorstep when we come home.

Don't tell me this Jesus who says "The last shall be first" and "The meek shall inherit the earth" is telling us that following him means expecting the unexpected!

No, we want ministry with flash and razzle-dazzle. But here Jesus is calling us to the ordinary. Dr. Loy Witherspoon, professor and chairman of Religious Studies at UNC Charlotte, puts it this way: "Anyone with eyes to see can see Jesus in Christian social action in the ghetto, or in a Scout helping an elderly person across the street. But can we see Jesus in the kitchen?"

Mark goes on to tell us that after sundown, when the Sabbath was over, such that Jesus could heal without breaking the law, people flocked to the door of Simon Peter's house, and that Jesus healed them and cast out demons.

Just for a minute it looks like Jesus' fever has broken, and he's doing what we would expect him to do. But then we see the fever which turns our notions upside down is still flaring.

Because after Jesus casts these demons out, why in the world does he shut them up, and order that they not reveal his identity? I mean, this would be a perfect way to prove that he's positively who he eventually tells us he is. This would help spread the Gospel quicker. It would give him the respect he's entitled.

Hmmm. Could it be that by not broadcasting his power and success through every available means, Jesus is telling us that popularity and fame are not important to Christian ministry?

Come to think of it, doesn't God say in the Bible that "My ways are not your ways?" (Isaiah 55:8)

And this business of getting up early, when it's dark and going out to an isolated place to pray. What gives? Is he sick? After all, prayer is reserved for the synagogue, right? And these days, isn't prayer reserved for mealtime and bedtime?

And when the prayer was offered, wasn't Jesus supposed to be like those Pharisees, who prayed loudly and in public, in broad daylight, at a decent hour, where everyone could see them, and be inspired by their faithfulness?

I mean, no one can see him praying in the dark, off by himself. He's not telling us that there are different ways to pray, is he? That communication with our Creator can be done without conventional formulas? That connecting with the source of this spiritual fever may result in sacrificing some sleep?

What in the world is going on here?

And most puzzling of all, when Simon and the others have to hunt him down while he's praying, and explain to him the fabulous opportunity for his ministry back in town, with everyone looking for him, Jesus says it's time to hit the road! And the Scripture says he went all over Galilee preaching and healing.

Wouldn't it have been easier to stay put, and minister to all those needs in town, where there was a ready-made list of patients and potential followers?

Jesus is acting mighty strangely. Maybe he caught that fever Simon's mother in law had when he healed her.

And when he told them it was time to move on, I'll bet the disciples felt like putting their hands to his forehead to see if he was burning up to see if he was delirious.

But wait a minute.

By not healing the hurt back in Capernaum, maybe he's telling us that having the Jesus fever means to prioritize when, where, and how we should use our spiritual gifts and talents.

Hmmm. Maybe he's saying that the careful aim beats the shotgun spray approach. Maybe he's saying that God sometimes calls us outside of our comfort zone, to think outside the box, to push and even tear the edge of the envelope. All the world isn't just a stage, it's a mission field.

Jesus' fever of the Spirit shows us that his way of thinking of relating to God and doing ministry is totally foreign to our nature, our intuition, and our traditions.

Jesus turns our worldly notions topsy-turvy:

To follow Jesus means to expect the unexpected; There's freedom in obedience to God and servanthood to our neighbor; Following him may not involve the conventional or the comfortable way; That following him means throwing out the instruction manual and starting fresh by imitating him. By catching the fever. His fever. An elevated spiritual temperature. A spirit so hot that we're on fire!

The same fire that burned in Jeremiah's bones, that burned in the hearts of the two disciples on the road to Emmaus.

The same fire that burned in John Wesley's heart, that compelled him to ride 250,000 miles on horseback, preach thousands of sermons, write 400 books, start hundreds of societies, schools, hospitals, and orphanages.

The same fever fueled by fire at Pentecost, and fanned by the Holy Spirit.

The same fever that causes us to take risks, explore virgin territory, and reevaluate and reorder our priorities.

To hear the double-ring of postmodern ministry both to the ordinary and the outer limits.

Mark is telling us that Jesus says, "If you follow me, you'll have to catch the fever." The same fever that spreads revival, preaches repentance, and kills the bacteria of sin, apathy, tedium, and egotism.

Jesus calls us to be, as Leonard Sweet puts it "dangerously Christian."

To not be afraid to catch the fever.

To catch the fire of Pentecost.

To catch the wind of Pentecost.

To let it blow and lead it!

To catch the wave of a Spirit-filled life.

To not be afraid of Spirit-surfing on that wave, wherever it may take us outside of our comfort zone.

Catch the Spirit, church. Catch the fever.

Let's venture out of our Capernaums into the Galilees of our own lives. For us, exploring the unknown that the fever demands may mean that you start by trying a different church pew.

Or taking a different volunteer position at church. Or trying a different lunch partner. Or trying a different way of relating to those closest to you.

Jesus calls us to take these risks. To bring our light out from under the bushel. To dig up the coins he gave us that we buried for safe keeping, and let God help us multiply them like loaves and fishes.

Yes, it's not easy to take those risks. But Jesus doesn't call us to do what's easy. Or comfortable. Or conventional. Or even successful.

Jesus calls us to catch the fever.

(pause)

So what's your temperature?

(or close by saying : Catch the fever, Church. Catch the Fever.)