Baptized to Serve
January 13, 2008
Matthew 3:13-17; Isaiah 42:1-9
How many of you remember your own baptism?
I’ve heard stories of my own – I’m sure I was a perfect angel; you can ask my mom!
But I certainly have no recollection of it. Like many good Presbyterians, I was baptized as an infant, as is decent and in good order reflecting our conviction that baptism is God’s action in which we are claimed as God’s own. As Jesus told his followers, “you did not choose me but I chose you.”
I am sure that I did not feel any great sense of choseness on that particular Sunday morning in the University Presbyterian Church of Tuscaloosa, Alabama, and that is probably a good thing. For if we truly understood the depth of what it means to be called by God into lives of loving service, most of us would turn away from the font in fear and trembling.
I try to place my self in Jesus’ sandals. If I’d been in his place I cannot imagine that I would have walked into the river knowing which way the current was running; how swift and sure it was to take him to Calvary and a cross.
Dietrich Bonhoeffer was right, as his own life surely demonstrated: when Jesus calls us he beckons us to come and die.
Right about now Molly is probably thinking, “I wish he’d preached this before the ordination service while there was still a chance to bolt for the door!”
Perhaps it is a bit of “bait and switch,” to order the service of worship this way. We tend to do the same thing with baptism. We place these sweet and powerful moments of worship, with their sacramental overtones, early in the service, and maybe it’s only a spoil-sport who would follow them up with a prophetic word about the meaning of God’s call and claim on our lives.
But, as far as I can tell, that’s the only authentic purpose for the church: to equip the saints to answer God’s call.
Oh, to be sure, there are a number of ways to do that, a number of steps for each of those ways, and as many callings as there are gifts. But the purpose of the gathered community is to praise the giver for the gifts and then to figure out how to use them to further God’s purposes in the world.
We certainly don’t ordain folks for the glory of it! We don’t ordain folks for the power of it! We don’t ordain folks for prestige of it! We don’t ordain folks for the money!
(If we do, I missed the memo on it, and so did the rest of you ordained folks this morning!)
So, if it’s not for glory, for power, for prestige, for money, what is it for? What is the call of God for?
Isaiah’s words tell us what it means to be called by God. These words tell us what it means to be a servant and to be a disciple, to follow in the way that Jesus traveled from his own baptism, his own moment of ordination:
Here is my servant, whom I uphold, my chosen, in whom my soul delights; I have put my spirit upon him; he will bring forth justice to the nations.
He will not cry or lift up his voice, or make it heard in the street;
a bruised reed he will not break, and a dimly burning wick he will not quench; he will faithfully bring forth justice.
He will not grow faint or be crushed until he has established justice in the earth; and the coastlands wait for his teaching.
Thus says God, the LORD, who created the heavens and stretched them out, who spread out the earth and what comes from it, who gives breath to the people upon it and spirit to those who walk in it:
I am the LORD, I have called you in righteousness, I have taken you by the hand and kept you; I have given you as a covenant to the people, a light to the nations,
to open the eyes that are blind, to bring out the prisoners from the dungeon, from the prison those who sit in darkness.
The call of God is about justice. It is about righteousness. It is about liberation. It is about new light in the darkness, a voice for the voiceless, sight for the blind. It is about hope.
The community of faith – the church – gathers in order that we find our sight, find our voice, find our light, find out hope, and the gathered community empowers each of us to take those gifts into all the world to work for the justice and righteousness – the restoration of right relationships – that God desires, that are the marks of God’s kingdom.
That’s what ordination is all about.
The challenge comes in trying to live it out. That challenge touches each and every one of us, whether or not we have been called to the particular office of elder, or deacon, or minister of the word and sacrament.
This morning, as we surrounded Molly with love and support, we promised something of utmost importance. We promised, in pledging our support and committing to follow the leadership of our elders, we promised again to follow the leadership of Christ, the head of the church.
It was not just elders who made that promise; it was each and every one of us.
I’m going to take a moment here to point specifically toward some of what I believe to be entailed in that promise. I hope that I do not sound harsh or frustrated or disappointed. Please believe me when I say that is not how I feel. I am trying to find a voice here that is not the “dad” voice saying, “clean your room.”
Believe me, I know that is not my most effective voice – take one look at my kids’ rooms and you’ll know that my “clean your room” voice carries zero weight!
On the other hand, I also know that the “dad” voice holds some of my deepest, most authentic feelings of sure and certain love. So if I slip into that voice, it is because I love you; I love this community; I have such high hopes and expectations.
We’ve just journeyed together through Advent, and along the way I witnessed the best of what and who we are.
Our worship services were powerful and profound because your voices – many of them – were sounded with clarity and passion. We sung God’s praises well, from our youngest on up. The music was beautiful. This space was lit to the glory of God.
Not only that, but we worshipped God in compassion, charity and justice. We gave with incredible generosity to the least of these – especially our sisters at the new women’s shelter, but also to the AMEN programs.
Beyond these important local concerns, our voice was heard again in the broader church, as the overture that originated with our session’s committed call to create a church that welcomes, embraces and empowers our GLBT sisters and brothers began its journey through the denomination’s polity.
Beyond even all of that there is much, much more going on in the life of this small community of faith, and come our January congregational meeting in a few weeks we’ll share it more fully.
So, what’s the problem?
Well, look around us this morning. There are far too many empty seats here, which translates quite quickly to a budget that we will struggle to meet unless we do something about it.
All of that good work that we are already doing, that faithful work that we are called to do, that promised, committed, loving service that we are baptized into – it will go for naught in this good place unless we make some changes.
The problem is – my problem is – I do not know what those changes are.
I wish I could stand up here this morning and hold out a flow chart and spell out seven steps to success … or even 12! But I cannot.
Oh, to be sure, I read the latest ideas from the Alban Institute, the emerging church movement, and all sorts of other church gurus. I’ve been to various and sundry training events, and will continue to go.
Still, I do not feel at all equipped for “growing the church.”
In fact, I’m not even sure I know what that means.
For instance, does growing the church mean filling pews on Sunday morning? Does it mean balancing our budget? Does it mean bagging more groceries at AFAC? Does it mean witnessing more for peace and justice and for a church as generous and just as God? Does it mean more potluck lunches? Does it mean more or better or different Christian education and spiritual formation? Does it mean more varied worship and music?
Or does it mean less? Less focus on Sunday morning – and more focus on the rest of the week? Less focus on what we do here together – and more focus on each of us living out our faith day-by-day in every action that we take?
Or is it something altogether different? After all, as Brian McClaren’s most recent book from the emergent church movement puts it, Everything Must Change.
Like I said, I am not sure I know what “growing the church” means.
It’s at this point when I fear slipping into the “clean your room” voice. As that one never works, let me try a different Dad voice. You know a leader is effective if people follow; the Dad voice that works is the one when I say, “let’s go down to Maggie Moos!” That one always works; I can lead a family to ice cream with the best of ‘em.
So, let’s tackle our challenges with joy and energy, even as I confess that I’m not sure what some of these challenges actually entail, nor that I am the one to lead such an effort.
So, what am I sure of?
Just a couple of things.
First, above all else, God loves us – we are the beloved ones, with whom God is well pleased. We are called, baptized, ordained for joyous service of a this loving God.
Second, this is a house full of joy and love and compassion. There’s so much that I don’t know, but I’m living proof that ignorance is bliss! There’s plenty to stress about in life; let’s pledge to make this congregation a place of holy laughter. In fact, if you’ll promise right now to make this a place of holy laughter, I’ll promise to resist the temptation to pun … no, I won’t.
Third, this is a house of promises. We’ve made promises this morning: to lead, to follow, to serve and support, to love. God’s promises remain the foundation of our own: God promises to love us, to be ever present, to welcome us back again and again and again.
Finally, we must clean our rooms! Whatever that metaphor may mean for you in terms of the life of this congregation, we must clean our rooms! Our spiritual health, our wholeness, what the gospels call salvation, depends upon it.
If it means stretching out of your comfort zone to share your faith with a friend or neighbor and then invite them to “come and see,” then clean your room. Spiritual health is measured in part by the extent to which this story of faith shapes every aspect and relationship of our lives. If we are spiritually healthy, we share our faith with others.
If it means stretching out of your comfort zone to give more, then clean your room. Spiritual health is measured in part by the extent to which this story of faith shapes our relationship with money. When I think about my own financial decisions I ask myself this question: am I giving in to a passion to consume, or to a consuming passion to be faithful? If we are spiritually healthy, then our treasure will follow our hearts.
If it means stretching out of your comfort zone to offer yourself to the community in a new way, then clean your room. Spiritual health is measured in part by the extent to which we give of ourselves in service to others. The way you spend your time is the way you spend your life. If we are spiritually healthy, we will be spending time in those gospel places where Jesus spent his time: in the company of the voiceless, powerless, poor.
Baptism is a cleansing, so on this day when we mark the baptism of Jesus, let the waters of baptism roll down in a mighty stream of justice and righteousness, and cleanse us for the service we have been called to offer. May it be so, for us, the church at Clarendon. Amen.
Matthew 3:13-17; Isaiah 42:1-9
How many of you remember your own baptism?
I’ve heard stories of my own – I’m sure I was a perfect angel; you can ask my mom!
But I certainly have no recollection of it. Like many good Presbyterians, I was baptized as an infant, as is decent and in good order reflecting our conviction that baptism is God’s action in which we are claimed as God’s own. As Jesus told his followers, “you did not choose me but I chose you.”
I am sure that I did not feel any great sense of choseness on that particular Sunday morning in the University Presbyterian Church of Tuscaloosa, Alabama, and that is probably a good thing. For if we truly understood the depth of what it means to be called by God into lives of loving service, most of us would turn away from the font in fear and trembling.
I try to place my self in Jesus’ sandals. If I’d been in his place I cannot imagine that I would have walked into the river knowing which way the current was running; how swift and sure it was to take him to Calvary and a cross.
Dietrich Bonhoeffer was right, as his own life surely demonstrated: when Jesus calls us he beckons us to come and die.
Right about now Molly is probably thinking, “I wish he’d preached this before the ordination service while there was still a chance to bolt for the door!”
Perhaps it is a bit of “bait and switch,” to order the service of worship this way. We tend to do the same thing with baptism. We place these sweet and powerful moments of worship, with their sacramental overtones, early in the service, and maybe it’s only a spoil-sport who would follow them up with a prophetic word about the meaning of God’s call and claim on our lives.
But, as far as I can tell, that’s the only authentic purpose for the church: to equip the saints to answer God’s call.
Oh, to be sure, there are a number of ways to do that, a number of steps for each of those ways, and as many callings as there are gifts. But the purpose of the gathered community is to praise the giver for the gifts and then to figure out how to use them to further God’s purposes in the world.
We certainly don’t ordain folks for the glory of it! We don’t ordain folks for the power of it! We don’t ordain folks for prestige of it! We don’t ordain folks for the money!
(If we do, I missed the memo on it, and so did the rest of you ordained folks this morning!)
So, if it’s not for glory, for power, for prestige, for money, what is it for? What is the call of God for?
Isaiah’s words tell us what it means to be called by God. These words tell us what it means to be a servant and to be a disciple, to follow in the way that Jesus traveled from his own baptism, his own moment of ordination:
Here is my servant, whom I uphold, my chosen, in whom my soul delights; I have put my spirit upon him; he will bring forth justice to the nations.
He will not cry or lift up his voice, or make it heard in the street;
a bruised reed he will not break, and a dimly burning wick he will not quench; he will faithfully bring forth justice.
He will not grow faint or be crushed until he has established justice in the earth; and the coastlands wait for his teaching.
Thus says God, the LORD, who created the heavens and stretched them out, who spread out the earth and what comes from it, who gives breath to the people upon it and spirit to those who walk in it:
I am the LORD, I have called you in righteousness, I have taken you by the hand and kept you; I have given you as a covenant to the people, a light to the nations,
to open the eyes that are blind, to bring out the prisoners from the dungeon, from the prison those who sit in darkness.
The call of God is about justice. It is about righteousness. It is about liberation. It is about new light in the darkness, a voice for the voiceless, sight for the blind. It is about hope.
The community of faith – the church – gathers in order that we find our sight, find our voice, find our light, find out hope, and the gathered community empowers each of us to take those gifts into all the world to work for the justice and righteousness – the restoration of right relationships – that God desires, that are the marks of God’s kingdom.
That’s what ordination is all about.
The challenge comes in trying to live it out. That challenge touches each and every one of us, whether or not we have been called to the particular office of elder, or deacon, or minister of the word and sacrament.
This morning, as we surrounded Molly with love and support, we promised something of utmost importance. We promised, in pledging our support and committing to follow the leadership of our elders, we promised again to follow the leadership of Christ, the head of the church.
It was not just elders who made that promise; it was each and every one of us.
I’m going to take a moment here to point specifically toward some of what I believe to be entailed in that promise. I hope that I do not sound harsh or frustrated or disappointed. Please believe me when I say that is not how I feel. I am trying to find a voice here that is not the “dad” voice saying, “clean your room.”
Believe me, I know that is not my most effective voice – take one look at my kids’ rooms and you’ll know that my “clean your room” voice carries zero weight!
On the other hand, I also know that the “dad” voice holds some of my deepest, most authentic feelings of sure and certain love. So if I slip into that voice, it is because I love you; I love this community; I have such high hopes and expectations.
We’ve just journeyed together through Advent, and along the way I witnessed the best of what and who we are.
Our worship services were powerful and profound because your voices – many of them – were sounded with clarity and passion. We sung God’s praises well, from our youngest on up. The music was beautiful. This space was lit to the glory of God.
Not only that, but we worshipped God in compassion, charity and justice. We gave with incredible generosity to the least of these – especially our sisters at the new women’s shelter, but also to the AMEN programs.
Beyond these important local concerns, our voice was heard again in the broader church, as the overture that originated with our session’s committed call to create a church that welcomes, embraces and empowers our GLBT sisters and brothers began its journey through the denomination’s polity.
Beyond even all of that there is much, much more going on in the life of this small community of faith, and come our January congregational meeting in a few weeks we’ll share it more fully.
So, what’s the problem?
Well, look around us this morning. There are far too many empty seats here, which translates quite quickly to a budget that we will struggle to meet unless we do something about it.
All of that good work that we are already doing, that faithful work that we are called to do, that promised, committed, loving service that we are baptized into – it will go for naught in this good place unless we make some changes.
The problem is – my problem is – I do not know what those changes are.
I wish I could stand up here this morning and hold out a flow chart and spell out seven steps to success … or even 12! But I cannot.
Oh, to be sure, I read the latest ideas from the Alban Institute, the emerging church movement, and all sorts of other church gurus. I’ve been to various and sundry training events, and will continue to go.
Still, I do not feel at all equipped for “growing the church.”
In fact, I’m not even sure I know what that means.
For instance, does growing the church mean filling pews on Sunday morning? Does it mean balancing our budget? Does it mean bagging more groceries at AFAC? Does it mean witnessing more for peace and justice and for a church as generous and just as God? Does it mean more potluck lunches? Does it mean more or better or different Christian education and spiritual formation? Does it mean more varied worship and music?
Or does it mean less? Less focus on Sunday morning – and more focus on the rest of the week? Less focus on what we do here together – and more focus on each of us living out our faith day-by-day in every action that we take?
Or is it something altogether different? After all, as Brian McClaren’s most recent book from the emergent church movement puts it, Everything Must Change.
Like I said, I am not sure I know what “growing the church” means.
It’s at this point when I fear slipping into the “clean your room” voice. As that one never works, let me try a different Dad voice. You know a leader is effective if people follow; the Dad voice that works is the one when I say, “let’s go down to Maggie Moos!” That one always works; I can lead a family to ice cream with the best of ‘em.
So, let’s tackle our challenges with joy and energy, even as I confess that I’m not sure what some of these challenges actually entail, nor that I am the one to lead such an effort.
So, what am I sure of?
Just a couple of things.
First, above all else, God loves us – we are the beloved ones, with whom God is well pleased. We are called, baptized, ordained for joyous service of a this loving God.
Second, this is a house full of joy and love and compassion. There’s so much that I don’t know, but I’m living proof that ignorance is bliss! There’s plenty to stress about in life; let’s pledge to make this congregation a place of holy laughter. In fact, if you’ll promise right now to make this a place of holy laughter, I’ll promise to resist the temptation to pun … no, I won’t.
Third, this is a house of promises. We’ve made promises this morning: to lead, to follow, to serve and support, to love. God’s promises remain the foundation of our own: God promises to love us, to be ever present, to welcome us back again and again and again.
Finally, we must clean our rooms! Whatever that metaphor may mean for you in terms of the life of this congregation, we must clean our rooms! Our spiritual health, our wholeness, what the gospels call salvation, depends upon it.
If it means stretching out of your comfort zone to share your faith with a friend or neighbor and then invite them to “come and see,” then clean your room. Spiritual health is measured in part by the extent to which this story of faith shapes every aspect and relationship of our lives. If we are spiritually healthy, we share our faith with others.
If it means stretching out of your comfort zone to give more, then clean your room. Spiritual health is measured in part by the extent to which this story of faith shapes our relationship with money. When I think about my own financial decisions I ask myself this question: am I giving in to a passion to consume, or to a consuming passion to be faithful? If we are spiritually healthy, then our treasure will follow our hearts.
If it means stretching out of your comfort zone to offer yourself to the community in a new way, then clean your room. Spiritual health is measured in part by the extent to which we give of ourselves in service to others. The way you spend your time is the way you spend your life. If we are spiritually healthy, we will be spending time in those gospel places where Jesus spent his time: in the company of the voiceless, powerless, poor.
Baptism is a cleansing, so on this day when we mark the baptism of Jesus, let the waters of baptism roll down in a mighty stream of justice and righteousness, and cleanse us for the service we have been called to offer. May it be so, for us, the church at Clarendon. Amen.
posted by David Ensign at
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