This morning, we thought about baptism, belonging, and what it is to be beloved as we heard the story of Jesus' baptism.
READINGS Isaiah 42:1-9; Matt 3:13-17
The descriptions given of John the Baptist in the bible, show a man who is ...
different.
Single-minded.
Focused.
Austere.
When the song ‘Dedicated follower of fashion’ was written, it was not with John in mind –
John wore basic garments – a tunic made of camel skin, held in place by a leather belt.
His was not the Michelin 5-star diet:
he lived on locusts and wild honey.
He was not the light and fluffy type:
he spoke of purifying fires and repentance.
A strange man, and yet many were curious:
this wild man of the desert somehow caught the imagination of folk, stirred them up,
so much so, that they left their places of comfort and travelled out into the wilderness
to hear him, to see him, and some, to even take the plunge and be baptised by him.
I wonder how he seemed to some of those standing by, watching...
and how he seems to us, living in the 21stC?
SERMON
Let’s pray: may the words of my mouth, and the thoughts of all our
hearts be acceptable in your sight, O Lord, our strength and our Redeemer, Amen.
I want to tell you all a story...
It was the 1930’s and times were hard –
harder still if you stood out from the crowd in any way and...young Mary Ann did.
She’d been born with a cleft palate before restorative surgery was an option,
and she was also deaf in one ear.
She couldn’t blow up a balloon without holding her nose,
and she struggled to drink from a water fountain.
At school, although she tried to keep her head down,
although she did her best not to stand out, or be singled out in any way,
nevertheless, her classmates would pick on her, zooming in on her vulnerable points,
clearly, she wasn’t going to amount to much.
They did their best to make her feel smaller, worthless, unlovable.
Time and time again, students would point to her mouth and ask:
‘Oh Mary Ann, what happened to your lip?’
Having been born with this, there was nothing she could do about changing it –
and the constant pointing out and teasing took its toll.
Not wanting to say that she’d been born this way,
not wanting to admit that she was different,
not seen as ‘normal’,
Mary Ann would sometimes tell a story –
‘Oh, I fell and cut it on some glass.'
School was something to get through,
a matter of endurance, and less a case of enjoyment.
The relentless teasing was hard enough,
but there was another endurance test that Mary Ann had to get through every year:
the annual hearing test.
Every year, each child was tested.
One by one, they were called to the teacher’s desk.
Each child would then be asked to cover first one ear, and then the other.
As an ear was covered, the teacher would whisper something to the child, like:
‘The sky is blue’;
‘You have new shoes’;
‘Apples grow on trees’;
‘Where is your pencil?’
The test was known as the ‘whisper test’.
If the child could hear the phrase and repeat it back, they would pass the test.
Not wanting to stand out,
not wanting to be teased for failing,
not wanting to feel worthless,
Mary Ann had found a small way of cheating –
instead of flattening her hand over her good ear,
she cupped it, so that she could still hear what the teacher had said.
But then came the year when Mary Ann found herself in Miss Leonard’s class.
Miss Leonard was a favourite teacher –
all the children thought she was wonderful,
all the children wanted to be in her class,
and all the children who were fortunate enough
to be in Miss Leonard’s class were desperate to be noticed by her,
wanted to be her ‘pet’.
And yet, even though Miss Leonard was lovely,
Mary Ann could not escape from the annual nightmare of the ‘whisper test’ –
her least favourite day at school.
And so the dreaded day came.
One by one, students were called to the desk.
One by one, phrases were whispered,
repeated, and the student, having done the test,
would march back to their desk.
Finally it was Mary Ann’s turn.
With dread in her stomach, she walked to the desk and hoped that she wouldn’t fail.
Cupping her hand over her good ear, she waited for the words ...
But this time, they were not ordinary words –
they were not words talking about
the colour of the sky,
or new shoes, or apples,
or finding a lost pencil –
for Mary Ann the seven words that Miss Leonard whispered that day changed her life.
Leaning as far forward as she could, to get as close as possible,
Miss Leonard whispered:
‘I wish you were my little girl.’
In just seven words, Miss Leonard had shown Mary Ann
that she was not worthless,
that she was not invisible,
that she didn’t have to make herself small –
Miss Leonard, through her words, gave Mary Ann the great gift of knowing
that she was worthy of love –
and that she was wanted and beloved.
The words transformed the way that Mary Ann looked at herself, and, the world around her.
With the power of encouragement, Mary Ann would grow up and become a journalist.
She was a reporter for a small town paper, she also wrote a weekly column
commenting on the every day happenings within the life of her community.
She had a long and happy marriage, had 4 children, 2 grandchildren,
and lived to see 2 great-grandchildren.
Mary Ann’s story is a story of how knowing you’re loved can transform your life...
and it’s also a story of how, each one of us can be a catalyst for change to others –
by offering even the smallest encouragement to someone...
letting them know they’re beloved, wanted, that they matter.
Just over two weeks ago now, we celebrated the birth of God’s beloved Son, Jesus –
Jesus, who, in his teaching,
in the way he interacted with people,
in the way he lived his life...
showed us what God would look like with skin on;
showed us how to live as one beloved by God.
We find that, in our reading, thirty years have passed –
and from the beginning of his life, we see Jesus at another beginning point:
the beginning of his ministry...
and it begins by the banks of the River Jordan as he stands among the many
who had come to see John in the wilderness and to take up his offer of baptism –
a baptism of repentance,
an act demonstrating a turning around and facing God
and commitment to walk in God’s ways.
And John, who has been encouraging the people to come for baptism, sees Jesus and says:
‘No, I can’t do this – you should be baptising me.’
John seems to see a lack of worthiness within himself to do this task...
Three years later, Peter will have a similar reaction when Jesus washes the disciples feet.
But is there more to baptism than John thinks?
Well, yes, yes there is.
While baptism is indeed about turning towards God – repentance –
and a new beginning, a fresh start...
it’s also about belonging.
In Jesus’ baptism, we hear God’s encouragement,
God’s affirmation of Jesus in those powerful words that boom from heaven,
that echo across the shimmering water of the Jordan:
‘this is my Son, the Beloved,
with whom I am well pleased.’
This is God, through the Spirit, offering words of belonging –
‘this is my Son...’;
belonging based upon love –
‘my beloved’;
belonging not based upon deeds but upon relationship –
Jesus is at the beginning point of his ministry and even before he’s done a thing,
God shows the delight he has for this One – this Son – who is beloved:
God is pleased, so very pleased.
Baptism is about belonging – a sign and symbol of identity.
As those who follow in Christ’s footsteps,
we dip our toes, our selves, into the waters of baptism
and, as the Apostle Paul says, in that act, we clothe ourselves in Christ.
In baptism, our own belonging to God is demonstrated –
even though many of us may not remember our baptism...
In baptism, the words of God ripple across the water, and are given to each one of us:
as Jesus is God’s Son,
so too, each one of us is a child of God;
as Jesus is beloved,
so too, each one of us is beloved of God;
as Jesus delights and pleases God,
so too, each one of us is pleasing to God –
God delights in us...
And, as Jesus is named, affirmed, and is shown to belong to God
even before he has begun the work that he has been called to,
so too, with us –
it’s not about how many points we can score,
it’s not an exercise in keeping a record of good deeds versus the bad...
we’d never measure up in that kind of system.
In baptism, we have a new beginning,
and are simply known, named, and loved by God for the very fact of being who we are –
because that is what grace is:
love that is given freely and fully,
without any conditions placed upon it;
love that is the soil in which we can blossom and grow
and learn what it is to live fully –
and, perhaps even learn to get our heads around being so utterly loved,
even when at times we don’t think we’re particularly loveable.
Baptism is the visible demonstration of God’s love:
God first calls Jesus ‘beloved’
and extends that belovedness, that belonging, to us.
Sometimes, we can have a view of God that sees him as One who stands over us
with a big stick, ready to knock us down when we step out of line:
a fierce, stern punishing God.
In the story of Jesus’ baptism, however, we find the loving heart of One
who doesn’t beat us down,
but who lifts us up,
takes pleasure in us...
loves us for who we are –
even when we mess things up,
and who continues to call to us,
to encourage us, with words of love...
How much would our journey Godwards be transformed if we saw in God’s face
just how much we belong to him
and just how much we are loved?
We are God’s sons and daughters.
We are Beloved.
And God delights in, and is well pleased with us.
Beloved.
Fact.
Not ‘will become’.
Not ‘will grow into.’
Not ‘has potential.’
But simply: beloved.
Now.
God calls us beloved,
just as God called Jesus beloved.
Whoever we are,
whatever we do,
wherever we go,
God will find a way to assure us
that we are beloved.
We might as well get used to the idea
and consider ourselves
and those around us
beloved of God
What a way to live:
a way to love,
a way to grow,
beloved of God.*
Amen.
*from 'Spill the Beans'
Coronavirus and hygiene update from Upper Clyde Church
