"what Is Your Identity?"

“What Is Your Identity?”

Matthew 3:13-17

In the Upper Room Devotional for this past Wednesday, a woman from Ohio named Lois Wilson writes the following:

“On the first day of each community-college art class I taught, I would ask the students to write a brief answer to the question, ‘Who are you?’

Later I was eager to read their responses.

One of the answers I’ve never forgotten was, ‘I am a child of God.’”

Lois continues: “This young woman’s response left me in awe that she was so grounded in her faith.

It also led me to question myself: ‘Would have replied this way?’

I probably would have listed my education or my work accomplishments.”

(pause)

How about you?

How would you answer the question: “Who are you?”

How would I?

When Jesus was baptized God told everyone around Who He was and is: “This is my Son, whom I love; with him I am well pleased.”

(pause)

Sadly, not everyone hears these kinds of words.

Too many children grow up in our world having never heard a father or mother say to them—either in words, looks, hugs, or in action—“You are my dear child, whom I love,” let alone, “I am pleased with you.”

Often, it’s the exact opposite…

…angry voices, bitter rejection, the slamming of doors.

Perhaps this has been your experience or the experience of someone you know or love.

The whole Christian Gospel could be summed up in this point: When the living God looks at us…

…God sees us, not as we are in ourselves, but as we are in Jesus Christ.

It sometimes seems nearly impossible to believe, especially to those who have never had this kind of support from their earthly parents, but it’s true!

In Christ, God looks at you; God looks at me and says, “You are my dear, dear child; I’m delighted with you.”

In knowing this, can we strive to look at others in this light as well?

Can we strive to see others as people loved by God, even if they annoy us or hurt us or disgust us?

You know, when we intentionally put ourselves in situations where we are loving and serving others no matter who they are, what they have done, what they look like or where they come from—we find ourselves becoming more and more like the God Who loves us.

Last Tuesday morning, my wife Clair was at a coffee shop meeting with some of our clergy friends.

I was unable to make it due to some other appointment.

In any event, things were breaking up and folks were heading in their different directions.

Clair was the second person out the door and into the parking lot.

And when she walked out, she saw that a friend of ours had been approached by a prostitute who was asking her for some food.

That friend, in a hurry, sort of brushed the prostitute off, got in her car and zoomed away.

Clair, then got into her car, and remembered that she had forgotten something in the restaurant.

When she walked back in she saw that another friend, a Lutheran Pastor friend of ours, had walked out of the restaurant and been asked by the same prostitute if he could get her some food.

He had answered, “Sure, let’s get you some food.”

And so, he went back in the restaurant with her and bought her breakfast and was sitting down at the table with her.

My wife was impressed and also a bit humbled.

When she was telling me about it that evening, she said, “We really don’t live out our discipleship to the full.

Instead, we put limits on how far we will go.

Like, we might say, I will go this far—but I wouldn’t take the time to buy food for some stranger who asks and then sit down with them and have a conversation—provide them with some company—some dignity.”

Jesus didn’t put any limits on what He would do for us, did He?

Jesus is King.

Jesus is divine.

Jesus is God.

And by allowing Himself to be baptized, He fully empties Himself on our behalf—He becomes like us in every way, and yet is without sin.

Mario was a homeless man who lived in a church shelter.

He had lived on the streets of New York City for half his life.

He spent his sixtieth birthday with friends at a church dinner at the shelter.

Several people at the dinner didn’t believe it was Mario’s birthday.

And so, Mario reached into his coat pocket to show them his birth certificate, which showed that it was, indeed, his birthday.

Then Mario asked, “Want to see my baptismal certificate?”

His baptismal certificate showed that he was baptized as a baby at an Episcopal Church on the Lower East Side of Manhattan.