A Sermon Delivered by The Rev. John D. Painter at Centenary United Methodist Church – Metuchen, New Jersey January 13, 2008 (Baptism of Christ) Text: Matthew 3:13-17

Then Jesus came from Galilee to John at the Jordan, to be baptized by him. John would have prevented him, saying, “I need to be baptized by you, and do you come to me?” But Jesus answered him, “Let it be so now; for it is proper for us in this way to fulfill all righteousness.” Then he consented. And when Jesus had been baptized, just as he came up from the water, sud-denly the heavens were opened to him and he saw the Spirit of God descending like a dove and alighting on him. And a voice from heaven said, “This is my Son, the Beloved, with whom I am well pleased.” —Matthew 3:12-17, NRSV

Bishop William Willimon says that back when he was in high school, as he was about to leave on a date, his mother would bid him farewell at the door with these weighty words, “Don’t forget who you are.”

Will Willimon says he knew what she meant. She did not mean he was apt to forget his name or address. She did mean that, alone on a date, in the midst of strangers, he might forget who he was; he might lose sight of the values with which he had been raised, answer to an alien name, or engage in some unaccustomed behavior. “Don’t forget who you are,” was his mom’s benediction as Will left home.

Amid the conflicting claims and confusing values these days, it is often difficult to remem-ber who we are. “Who am I?” is a particularly pressing question among contemporary youth, but it is a question which is often asked by adults, as well. “Who am I?” is a life-long question, as at-tested to by the mass popularity of such books as Gail Sheehy’s Passages, a number of years ago, and M. Scott Peck’s The Road Less Traveled and Further Along the Road Less Traveled, which remain popular even yet today.

Today there are many causes, groups, philosophies, and cults all willing and ready to tell us who we are. The hedonistic philosophers tell us we are mostly made for pleasure.
Intellectuals will tell us we are mostly rational beings, and power comes through knowledge. Advertisers tell us we are consumers—the makers and spenders of money. The scientific-secular world tells us we are self-made beings; values exist only as we create them, meaning only as we choose it to have mean-ing. Everyone, it seems, is ready to tell us who we are.

To the pressing “Who am I?” question, the church has traditionally responded, “You are baptized.” In baptism we are initiated, crowned, chosen, embraced, washed, adopted, gifted, re-born…and thereby sent forth and redeemed. We are identified as one of God’s own, then assigned our place and our purpose in God’s dominion.

Martin Luther, the German Reformer, sought to emphasize the daily renewal of the baptis-mal covenant by suggesting to his followers that, each day upon arising, they place a hand upon their head and say, “I am baptized.” It is very clear that the way for a Christian to find out whom he or she is, is to come to the baptismal font and look into those graceful waters. The reflection of yourself that you see there is who you really are.

We are someone to whom a name has been given. Some people still refer to Baptism by the ancient term “Christening,” which is understood to be the act of bestowing a Christian name upon the child by the church. Whether our name is actually “given” in Baptism or not, Baptism is still the occasion for our naming. At Baptism we are given the name “Christian.” That name is a gift—unearned, unmerited, undeserved—like salvation itself. Our identity is a gift, something bestowed upon us by God’s grace.

Baptism says we are not only persons to whom a name has been given, but also we are roy-alty. We sin, of course. We live less righteously than we should. But our sin and unrighteousness is significant and troubling to us mostly because we know that we were made for something better than that. Our sin is noteworthy and our inhumanity is blasphemous only because it does not fit the character of ones who are so worthy in God’s sight. Worthy, because we have been made worthy—bought at a great price, adopted in love, made heirs through grace.

The Christian message is not that we should try to “act like somebody.” The Christian message simply is, “We are somebody.” The church cannot rest as long as even one of God’s heirs is in misery, hungry, naked, oppressed, persecuted, lost. We cannot rest as long as any institu-tion, government, or persons seek to warp or distort God’s image in any of God’s children. Our evangelism and our social activism are one in speaking and doing the Good News to God’s cher-ished heirs. This is all baptismal work, and we need to be about that work with vigor.

Baptism says not only that we are named and that we are royalty, but also that we are owned by God forever. Baptism is a public declaration of the promise of God: I will be your God. I have chosen you. I will never let you go. I will bring you home. I do not always feel like a child of God. I do not always look like a child of God. God knows I do not always act like a child of God! But I am a child of God. I am one of God’s children not because of what I have done or because of who I am, but because of what God has done. God chose me—out of all the universe—to be God’s child. I am owned. When I am anxious, or alone, or defeated, Baptism ought to speak a firm word of comfort to me: “Relax, be calm. You did not choose me; I chose you.”

Baptism reminds us that we are who we are as divine gift, not as a human achievement. Our identity is a given. We have the assurance that no matter how high we may rise in this life, or how low we may sink; no matter how we feel or act or think, the most important fact in our lives is that we are the chosen—the elect, the claimed, the adopted, the owned. In Baptism we are branded and sealed as God’s property. Remember, God keeps what God purchases, and on the cross an awe-some price was paid for us.

In times of great doubt, when struggling through his dark nights of the soul, Martin Luther would sometimes touch his forehead and say to himself, “Martin, be calm, you are baptized.” In times of doubt, inner turmoil, hopelessness, and confusion, we would do well to touch our fore-heads—where the sign and seal of our Baptism was made—and remember our baptism. For, in re-membering our Baptism, we remember who we are—and whose we are.

How easy it is in the midst of this life to forget who we are and whose we are. How easy it is to forget what it is we have been chosen for, the purpose for which we have been called. This church and this opportunity for baptismal reaffirmation are here to remind us—to remind one an-other—that we have been bought with a price, that Someone greater than us has named us and claimed us and seeks us and loves us with only one good reason in mind—so that we might be loved for all eternity.

“Don’t forget who you are.” Come, and look once again into the graceful waters and see yourself reflected there. Touch your forehead, remember your Baptism and be thankful, for this is who you are.
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PRAYER
We thank you, God, for the gift of water that brings us life and health. In the ancient waters your faithful servant Noah turned from death to life when he turned toward you. Your child Israel found you close at hand when he passed from death to life amidst the raging waters. In the river Jordan, Jesus received John’s baptism and witnessed that we too should turn toward you. Recalling now your same boundless love, we ask that you bless us as we remember our own Baptism, that we might be your servants to the world, strong in trust and courageous in loyalty to you. Amen.
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