Mark 1:4-11
“WHO DECIDES WHO WE REALLY ARE?”
One weekend Will Willimon found himself as a guest at worship in an African-American church. It was a great experience, an exuberantly joyous outpouring of praise welling up and spilling over in the crescendos typical of the Black church.
Of course, the service was not circumscribed by our familiar one-hour increment.
The choir lit up two anthems. But that reminded the choir director of another, so they did a third. There was the regular offering, then the mission offering. When not enough was received in the regular offering, they repeated it, preceded by a lengthy, more fervent appeal. And that is not even to mention the sermon. It started quiet and hushed. Then it swung upward, ending with a flurry of passion. Painting on a canvas this big requires time and space. All told, the service was over two hours. Just another Sunday in the African-American church, friends.
So after this very full morning Willimon stood in the church parking lot with his black preacher friend, his pulpit gown draped over his arm. They were ready to part. This was good, Willimon thanked him. It’s always good to worship with you. But may I ask you one question? Sure, his colleague said, what is it? Why does it take you folks so long to worship God? I mean, I had six cups of coffee before worship today, and I was dying up there. His colleague friend could only chuckle.
Why does it take us so long to worship God? he repeated the question. Look around you. Not surprisingly, the church was not poised on a posh side of town. Urban blight was visible in all directions. Billboards, with their casino, liquor, and cigarette ads, glared down at them. Why does it take us so long to worship God?
All week long the people of my church hear the message they are nothing. They don’t matter. They are invisible, or worse, worthless. You see, they don’t have the good jobs, drive the right cars, or live at the desirable addresses. They don’t figure in the meetings where life gets decided. They are disposable. In our great rat race of getting ahead, my members are looked upon as the rattiest of the rats.
So it’s my job on Sunday morning to persuade them all of that is a lie. Don’t you believe it! Because they are God’s beloved children, they do matter. God’s eye is ever on them. The councils of heaven pray for them. They are precious to God. Where I live, having to confront and expose all these lies, having to reverse their despair, that takes us a couple hours. How long does it take with your people? I had never thought of worship like this, never mind its length, even its meaning, till I heard this story. Freeing ourselves from lies, fortifying ourselves with the truth. Asking the question, who decides who we really are, hearing anew God’s voice.
Worship today might exceed an hour today. No, I promise won’t go 2 1/2 hours. But from past years, we know it takes a little longer to bless all of the individuals who come forward seeking a remembrance of our baptism. But no one has ever complained about the length for the reason that black urban preacher identified.
Where else but the church can we go to shed the layers of lies in ads and pop culture? Finally, we are not merely producers or consumers. We are not merely salaries or degrees or family pedigrees. We are not props to make money for fashion houses, and something less if our bodies are not supermodel perfect. We are constantly exposed to these lies; hear them enough, we start to believe them.
Where else but the church can we go to hear the one truth foundational to living a sane, strong, and contented life? That truth is articulated at baptism more than anywhere else. We hear it in that voice booming from heaven at Jesus’ baptism.
As this message blessed Jesus at the outset of his ministry, so also it blesses us along the way of our pilgrimage. For Jesus spread this word to all of God’s own. And it goes something like this: “You’re beloved to me. You are my child, my son, my daughter. You belong to me and I claim you despite the worst of your life. You did nothing to deserve this favor, but live into it--and live up to it--anyway. For everything in this lifetime can be taken away from you, your health, your wealth, your children, your good name, your life earnings. But this belovedness endures forever. And it is there waiting for you in that moment you need it most.”
Friends, I can barely proclaim this message without being reduced to rubble. Can you believe it? I have the job where I get to deliver such good news to you! I get to broadcast this countercultural gospel that, taken seriously, would subvert much of our economy and politics. John and I get to bless you with this blessing. And you can say what you want about the church—they’re a bunch of hypocrites, they’re as mean as anyone else, they fall way short of the standard they set—say what you want about the church, but you won’t hear this message or receive this blessing anywhere else. And today it is the centerpiece of everything that we do.
For me, the struggle to get through the day is realizing that the world constantly broadcasts subtly flawed messages that seem on the face of things to be true. It’s like the media are transmitters and my head is the radio. My head is buzzing with conflicting messages as I turn the dial, filtering among them. You are what you earn. You are what you wear. You are what you drive. You are what and who you know. So you had better be this somebody. Or you’re nobody. Every day at the same time, God is trying to speak to me, if I would but have ears to listen.
I spend my days fiddling with the dial searching for a signal that I call Radio God. Like some underground movement, it broadcasts an alternative message for be-coming whole. For finding happiness. For living a true life. For becoming whole. For fulfilling the destiny God intended in creating us. I know that message is out there. I want to tune it in, but it gets squelched by taller transmitters with bigger money. Still, sometimes it breaks through the static that confuses me. The signal comes in loud and clear. It announces a whole other life than that most of us live most of the time. That is the life I want. For the truth of this life will not disappoint. We will not look back upon our years and have regrets. Can’t say that about the other signals. Confirmands, on Tuesday you’ll write 30 second Radio God spots.
As you come forward today, to reaffirm your baptism, to hear afresh of your belovedness, my hope is that you will hear the one who speaks through us, beyond all of the static. My hope is the signal is clear and the message is heard. For you not only deserve to hear this truth spoken over your joys and struggles. You need to retain and cleave to this truth to live with strength, dignity, and poise.
So hear this and live: You are God’s beloved children, with whom God is well-pleased. Considering that is all we need to know, we don’t say it near enough. Amen.
