Positive Identification
Sermon
It's News To Me: Messages of Hope for Those Who Haven't Heard
Cycle A Gospel Sermons For Advent, Christmas, Epiphany
Object:
A while ago, I received an invitation to my high school reunion. Now I'm not going to tell you which one, but I've been out of high school for a while. At any rate, getting that invitation took me back to those days in Madison, Indiana, and caused me to think about some of the people who were in my class. I began wondering where they are, and what they're doing. I know about three of them: one is mayor of Madison, and another is the editor and owner of the newspaper, and one teaches classes to those who want to become nurses.
I guess that all doesn't really matter, but because of that reunion announcement, I caught myself remembering certain moments or events that happened during high school and thinking back to what we were like then -- the people we were, or at least who we thought we were. What I realized is just how much our past shapes us and helps determine who we are today. I like to think I'm quite different from the person I was back then, and I know I am in a lot of ways. However, I'm also aware that much of who I am at the core of my being is very much linked to those growing up days in Madison.
Trying to figure out who we are is a struggle for many of us. We keep searching, trying to get some sense of our identity. Did you know that there's a course at Stanford University's Graduate School of Business that's entitled, "Who am I?" That's how important, basic, and elusive, the answer to that question seems to be.
We've probably all read about or heard about those quests to determine a positive identification. Not long ago, we read about the DNA testing on the remains in the tomb of the Unknown Soldier to determine who it was. The tests did confirm an identity, and the young man who had died in Vietnam was given the burial his family so wanted him to have.
It may be like a story I read about a family who had gone to the movies, and on the way in the young man of the group stopped by the refreshment stand to pick up some popcorn. By the time he got into the theater, the lights were already dim, and the theater was darkened. He looked over everyone in the place, but simply couldn't find his family. Finally, after wandering up and down the aisles several times searching the crowd in the darkness, he stopped and asked out loud, "Does anyone recognize me?"
In some ways, we're all asking the same kind of question. "Does anyone recognize me? Does anyone know who I am?" We want to know who we are. It's as though we have to know who we are before we can know anything else. Understanding who we are seems to be the basic underlying question from which everything else flows, and it's something for which we keep searching.
Trying to establish identities and figure out who people are is precisely what's going on in the Bible passage we have for today. Throughout the entire passage, one person or another is attempting to put a label or a title on Jesus to determine exactly who he is. We find things like "God's Passover Lamb," "God-Revealer," "Son of God," "Rabbi," and "Messiah" as terms that are assigned to him.
Often we do the same thing when we meet new people. There's always the desire to know who that person is, and we often believe that a title or a name will tell us that. I've had a few interesting things happen when I've been asked the question, "What do you do?" Often my response brings a "Really? That's nice."
However, that's not always the response I get. One time a few years ago, I had been asked to give the opening prayer at the Economic Club luncheon downtown. Prior to the start of the meeting, I was milling around in the hall outside the banquet room, and ran into some people I knew. They introduced me to another person who was with them by saying, "Linda is one of the pastors at our church." This other person looked me in the eye, and said, "I don't approve of women ministers." Needless to say, that ended that conversation.
Sometimes, I'd really like to do what Robert Fulghum does when someone asks him the question, "What do you do for a living?" He makes something up. Now usually, if you stretch it a bit, his answer is based on some thread of truth, but it isn't actually what he does to earn money. For example, he had to fill out a form at the bank one day, and there was a blank for his occupation. So he wrote down "prince." He said that just that morning his wife had said to him, "Fulghum, sometimes you are a real prince." And he was feeling rather princely that day, so he responded that he was a prince. The bank teller couldn't handle it, and they had a little debate on the matter of identity, and whether our identity has to do with our occupation -- what we get paid for, or whether it's something greater than that.1
Trying to establish positive identification is what the Bible passage for this morning is all about. We've seen the attempts to determine who Jesus actually was by putting titles and names on him. The most interesting part of this passage to me, however, is at the very end when Simon comes to Jesus. The first thing Jesus says to him is, "You're John's son, Simon?" He's trying to get clear on who he is by knowing whose son he is, but Jesus doesn't stop there. He gives Simon a new name, or a nickname, saying he'll be called "Cephas," Peter, from now on. Cephas means "Rock."
In looking back at scripture, we discover that being given a new name or undergoing a name change could be highly significant. It often signifies a radical change in the person, and in who that person is, that comes as a result of an encounter with the Holy. That was the case with Abram and Sarai becoming Abraham and Sarah. That was true with Saul when he became Paul. Their new names reflected that they had become new beings because they had an encounter with the Divine. I think a similar thing is happening here.
In some very real ways, renaming Simon as Peter, the Rock, tells us who he is. "Rock" represents something that is solid, durable, strong. It can be the foundation upon which something else is built. It seems that using the name "Rock" for Simon Peter really tells us a lot about who he is, his character, and the person he is becoming because he has had a real encounter with Jesus.
In the same way, I really believe that none of us knows who we really are unless and until we open ourselves to the light of God, who reveals to us our true identity. I'm convinced that at the heart of it all, we will discover that each one of us is a child of God, loved by God, created by God.
That's at the core of my faith. A lot of my faith journey is connected to an understanding of who I am. In my "other" life, I was a junior high school French teacher, Madame McCoy to my students. I really felt as though I knew who I was when I was teaching. Our daughter is adopted, and she came to us literally overnight, in 24 hours and 30 minutes time. One day I was teaching, and the next, I was a mother.
You need to understand that we wanted to have a child very badly, and we loved and love her dearly. But I went through some real struggles, an identity crisis really, during those first few months as I tried to figure out who I was now. There was no paycheck, no Madame McCoy, seemingly no identity.
About that same time I got involved in a Bible study group, and I began to wrestle with what was going on in me. Slowly, but surely, it began to dawn on me that my identity didn't have anything to do with my role or job or title. It didn't have anything to do with what I looked like, or what anyone else thought of me. If all that were stripped away, and it could be, it finally sank in that I am Linda McCoy, child of God, loved by God. That's who I am, and that's all I need to know.
The same is true for each one of us. Each of us is a child of God, and God loves each one of us more than we can ever imagine. Each one of us can know who we are. We can say with assurance, "God, I am your child." That's who we are.
Closing Word
I had some new cards printed the other day. Guess what they say? "Linda McCoy, Child of God." Here... want one?
On the tables are some cards for you to fill out and carry with you. There's a blank where you can put your name, and underneath the blank is the title that fits us all -- "Child of God." That's our positive ID.
As you leave here this morning, know who you are -- a child of God -- and go in peace. Amen.
____________
1. It Was On Fire When I Lay Down On It, by Robert L. Fulghum, copyright 1988, 1989. Used by permission of Villard Books, a Division of Random House Inc.
I guess that all doesn't really matter, but because of that reunion announcement, I caught myself remembering certain moments or events that happened during high school and thinking back to what we were like then -- the people we were, or at least who we thought we were. What I realized is just how much our past shapes us and helps determine who we are today. I like to think I'm quite different from the person I was back then, and I know I am in a lot of ways. However, I'm also aware that much of who I am at the core of my being is very much linked to those growing up days in Madison.
Trying to figure out who we are is a struggle for many of us. We keep searching, trying to get some sense of our identity. Did you know that there's a course at Stanford University's Graduate School of Business that's entitled, "Who am I?" That's how important, basic, and elusive, the answer to that question seems to be.
We've probably all read about or heard about those quests to determine a positive identification. Not long ago, we read about the DNA testing on the remains in the tomb of the Unknown Soldier to determine who it was. The tests did confirm an identity, and the young man who had died in Vietnam was given the burial his family so wanted him to have.
It may be like a story I read about a family who had gone to the movies, and on the way in the young man of the group stopped by the refreshment stand to pick up some popcorn. By the time he got into the theater, the lights were already dim, and the theater was darkened. He looked over everyone in the place, but simply couldn't find his family. Finally, after wandering up and down the aisles several times searching the crowd in the darkness, he stopped and asked out loud, "Does anyone recognize me?"
In some ways, we're all asking the same kind of question. "Does anyone recognize me? Does anyone know who I am?" We want to know who we are. It's as though we have to know who we are before we can know anything else. Understanding who we are seems to be the basic underlying question from which everything else flows, and it's something for which we keep searching.
Trying to establish identities and figure out who people are is precisely what's going on in the Bible passage we have for today. Throughout the entire passage, one person or another is attempting to put a label or a title on Jesus to determine exactly who he is. We find things like "God's Passover Lamb," "God-Revealer," "Son of God," "Rabbi," and "Messiah" as terms that are assigned to him.
Often we do the same thing when we meet new people. There's always the desire to know who that person is, and we often believe that a title or a name will tell us that. I've had a few interesting things happen when I've been asked the question, "What do you do?" Often my response brings a "Really? That's nice."
However, that's not always the response I get. One time a few years ago, I had been asked to give the opening prayer at the Economic Club luncheon downtown. Prior to the start of the meeting, I was milling around in the hall outside the banquet room, and ran into some people I knew. They introduced me to another person who was with them by saying, "Linda is one of the pastors at our church." This other person looked me in the eye, and said, "I don't approve of women ministers." Needless to say, that ended that conversation.
Sometimes, I'd really like to do what Robert Fulghum does when someone asks him the question, "What do you do for a living?" He makes something up. Now usually, if you stretch it a bit, his answer is based on some thread of truth, but it isn't actually what he does to earn money. For example, he had to fill out a form at the bank one day, and there was a blank for his occupation. So he wrote down "prince." He said that just that morning his wife had said to him, "Fulghum, sometimes you are a real prince." And he was feeling rather princely that day, so he responded that he was a prince. The bank teller couldn't handle it, and they had a little debate on the matter of identity, and whether our identity has to do with our occupation -- what we get paid for, or whether it's something greater than that.1
Trying to establish positive identification is what the Bible passage for this morning is all about. We've seen the attempts to determine who Jesus actually was by putting titles and names on him. The most interesting part of this passage to me, however, is at the very end when Simon comes to Jesus. The first thing Jesus says to him is, "You're John's son, Simon?" He's trying to get clear on who he is by knowing whose son he is, but Jesus doesn't stop there. He gives Simon a new name, or a nickname, saying he'll be called "Cephas," Peter, from now on. Cephas means "Rock."
In looking back at scripture, we discover that being given a new name or undergoing a name change could be highly significant. It often signifies a radical change in the person, and in who that person is, that comes as a result of an encounter with the Holy. That was the case with Abram and Sarai becoming Abraham and Sarah. That was true with Saul when he became Paul. Their new names reflected that they had become new beings because they had an encounter with the Divine. I think a similar thing is happening here.
In some very real ways, renaming Simon as Peter, the Rock, tells us who he is. "Rock" represents something that is solid, durable, strong. It can be the foundation upon which something else is built. It seems that using the name "Rock" for Simon Peter really tells us a lot about who he is, his character, and the person he is becoming because he has had a real encounter with Jesus.
In the same way, I really believe that none of us knows who we really are unless and until we open ourselves to the light of God, who reveals to us our true identity. I'm convinced that at the heart of it all, we will discover that each one of us is a child of God, loved by God, created by God.
That's at the core of my faith. A lot of my faith journey is connected to an understanding of who I am. In my "other" life, I was a junior high school French teacher, Madame McCoy to my students. I really felt as though I knew who I was when I was teaching. Our daughter is adopted, and she came to us literally overnight, in 24 hours and 30 minutes time. One day I was teaching, and the next, I was a mother.
You need to understand that we wanted to have a child very badly, and we loved and love her dearly. But I went through some real struggles, an identity crisis really, during those first few months as I tried to figure out who I was now. There was no paycheck, no Madame McCoy, seemingly no identity.
About that same time I got involved in a Bible study group, and I began to wrestle with what was going on in me. Slowly, but surely, it began to dawn on me that my identity didn't have anything to do with my role or job or title. It didn't have anything to do with what I looked like, or what anyone else thought of me. If all that were stripped away, and it could be, it finally sank in that I am Linda McCoy, child of God, loved by God. That's who I am, and that's all I need to know.
The same is true for each one of us. Each of us is a child of God, and God loves each one of us more than we can ever imagine. Each one of us can know who we are. We can say with assurance, "God, I am your child." That's who we are.
Closing Word
I had some new cards printed the other day. Guess what they say? "Linda McCoy, Child of God." Here... want one?
On the tables are some cards for you to fill out and carry with you. There's a blank where you can put your name, and underneath the blank is the title that fits us all -- "Child of God." That's our positive ID.
As you leave here this morning, know who you are -- a child of God -- and go in peace. Amen.
____________
1. It Was On Fire When I Lay Down On It, by Robert L. Fulghum, copyright 1988, 1989. Used by permission of Villard Books, a Division of Random House Inc.
