Declared: You Are Mine
God Makes Us His Own
Luke 3:15-17, 21-22
Rev. Tim Callow
Preached Sun. Jan. 12th, 2025
When you grow up you have no idea you have an accent. Everyone speaks the way you do, uses the same slang you do, has the same intonation you do. I had no idea that I had an accent until I went to college in southern Wisconsin. When my friends heard me say “bag” the illusion that I had no accent evaporated. Though, now, I can only hear it in a few words. Every once in awhile I am shocked by some elongated “O” that comes out of my mouth. But I can always pick it out in a recording, as it goes.
You pick up an accent by learning to speak the same way the people around you speak in the place you live. Accent, then, can become part of one’s identity. We know New Yorkers speak one way, southern whites another. And we are more aware of identity today than ever before. One’s identity can be a source of pride. I am certainly glad I grew up where I grew up, that I have a chance to live where I live. I mean, could you imagine living in Chicago?
But this sermon isn’t about that nasty morass we find ourselves in: identity politics. It’s about recognition. Recognition and identity go hand in hand. By recognition I mean an esteemed place in society, having value, being heard, being respected by virtue of who you are or who you have become. So much of identity politics is people feeling they aren’t getting the recognition they deserve, in other words they are being ignored because of who they are. But recognition isn’t only political.
I don’t think I’m painting with too broad a brush when I say we all seek recognition. We all want to be esteemed. We all want to be honored. We all want to be known by others, known well, and remembered. The opposite is anonymity, being ignored, being alienated, being alone. Recognition is something everyone strives for in their own way, whether it be through assuming responsibility and discipline in becoming a respected member of your circles, or whether it is through violence and abuse. Not being known, not being recognized, can be unbearable. These are dynamics any school teacher is familiar with.
Our gospel reading this morning is Jesus’ public debut, the moment of his recognition. On Christmas we recalled how the angels proclaimed his birth to the shepherds. The Sunday after we talked about Jesus in the Temple. And last Sunday we heard about the wise men who saw his birth proclaimed in the stars above. But none of this was the beginning of his public ministry. For the first thirty or so years of Jesus’ life he was fairly anonymous. He likely helped his father with his contracting work and assisted at the synagogue. It isn’t until he makes his way to the River Jordan that his ministry properly begins.
John the Baptist was sent to prepare the way for Jesus. He prepared the way by calling people to repentance. But he also prepared the way by baptizing Jesus in the river. After Jesus was baptized, we are told, "the heaven was opened, and the Holy Spirit descended upon him in bodily form like a dove. And a voice came from heaven, 'You are my Son, the Beloved; with you I am well pleased.’”
Jesus, here, assumes an identity other than Jew, other than Galilean, other than artisan, other than man. He assumes the public identity of God’s beloved Son, and the object of God’s pleasure. He is publicly proclaimed as the Son of God. The one through whom God will redeem Israel, and release the captives.
Our baptism is the baptism of Jesus Christ. We are not made God’s Son as Jesus is God’s Son. But still God speaks through that baptism. And he speaks to us. He tells us as well, “Do not fear, for I have redeemed you; I have called you by name; you are mine.” And, “you are my child, my beloved, in you I am well pleased.” God speaks through this sacrament because God knows we need it. We need the feeling of the water on our skin, we need to hear the words in our ears, we need the public reminder. Because we are likely to forget who we are. We are likely to forget we are children of God. We are likely to forget we are redeemed. That we are God’s. We are likely to revert to our fear, our doubt, our loneliness.
We all seek recognition. And if we do not get the recognition we are looking for it stings inside. But in our baptism we are given the highest honor. We receive the utmost recognition. “you are precious in my sight and honored and I love you.” The Father says. “You are my child. The beloved. You are mine."