This is how the gospel of Mark begins. There is no birth story, as in Matthew and Luke. No shepherds, no angels, no magi.
Mark’s gospel gets right into it. “This is the beginning—the dawn, the inception, the new birth—of the good news.”
And it is good news. It’s good news for all those who have heard only bad news in their lives. It’s good news for all those who have suffered under the empire’s oppression. It’s good news for the least, the lonely, the outcast; It’s good news for all those who have been told that they are unworthy, unlovable, that their lives don’t matter.
For them, it is GOOD NEWS.
It is the good news of Jesus Christ, the son of God.
In Mark’s gospel, it begins with John proclaiming a baptism of repentance.
Next week, I’m going to talk about repentance. I’m going to talk about why repentance is a good word, a word of hope. I’m going to talk about why Jesus himself needed to submit to a baptism of repentance, even though he himself was without sin.
But today, I want you to notice what happened as soon as Jesus was baptized…
As soon as Jesus emerged from the waters of baptism, the water still dripping off his head and his body, he heard the voice from above, pronounce him, “Beloved.” He heard that pronouncement, and he recognized the truth in it, and he knew himself as God’s beloved.
So, before anything—before the miracles, before the healings, before any parables were heard, and before any confrontations with the authorities—Jesus knew himself as God’s beloved child.
He didn’t have to prove himself first. He didn’t have to face temptation first, he didn’t have to spend 40 days in the wilderness first. That came next. That came after.
First came the knowledge, the pronouncement, the awareness, that he was beloved.
That means that his status as God’s beloved was unconditional.
His status as Beloved didn’t depend on all those other things, because he hadn’t done all those other things yet. He hadn’t done the miracles, the healings, or anything else, yet.
So it wasn’t, “because you have proven yourself, you are beloved.”
And it wasn’t, “because you have followed the right path, you are beloved.”
And it wasn’t, “because you have done what you are supposed to have done, you are beloved.”
The pronouncement that he was beloved came first. Before anything, Jesus knew that he was beloved.
And because we are all Christ’s brothers, sisters, siblings, we are united in Christ, and we share that belovedness.
That’s where it begins. For all of us.
Knowing that we are loved, that we are beloved.
The first step in ministry, the first task, is knowing yourself as beloved; knowing that you are loved unconditionally by God, and that nothing will ever keep God from loving you. It all starts with that affirmation.
I hope that, when you arrive here at First Christian Church for worship, or for any other activity or event, you feel loved. You feel affirmed.
I hope that, even before worship starts, you get a sense that you are beloved. I hope you feel that love and that affirmation from the way you are greeted and welcomed. I hope you feel it from the design of the building, from the signs and the banners. I hope you sense from the vibe that is present here, that you are beloved.
Because the worst thing our church or any church can do is make someone feel that they are not beloved; the worst thing we can do is make someone feel unloved.
Many years ago, when I was still quite new to ministry, there was a particular teenage boy who, most of the time, was quite happy, but every once in a while, he would withdraw physically and emotionally, and I could tell something was eating at him.
One day, he wanted to talk, and I of course was ready to listen. It took him a long time to say what was on his mind; but finally, through tears, he told me that he didn’t think anyone would ever love him, or that God would ever love him, because he was gay.
Can you imagine believing that you would never be loved, not by God, not by anyone, simply because of who you are?
That is one of the worst abuses of the church: making people believe that they are not beloved, not loved by God, not worthy of love, not worthy of blessing.
The beginning of the good news of Jesus Christ, son of God, is knowing that you are loved. You are beloved.
Which means that the first task of ministry, and possibly the most important task of ministry, is letting people know just how much God loves them; letting them know that what Paul says in the eighth chapter of Romans really is true: that nothing can ever separate you from God’s love.
This is a life-changing, life-saving message.
I’ve been told by people that the affirmation and love they received from church literally saved their life. I’ve been told by some high school youth who went to church camp that the love and affirmation they received at church camp literally saved their life. They’ve told me that they wouldn’t be here today, if it weren’t for that.
That is ministry done right. If we in the church do nothing else, but let people know that they are loved, then we will have done what we are supposed to do.
This weekend, we celebrate the life and ministry of Martin Luther King, Jr. King knew how important love is. King preached about love, and the love of Christ was made present through him in a powerful way.
King spent a lot of time explaining about agape love, the unconditional, selfless love that is prominent in the New Testament. It’s the love that one has for the neighbor, the stranger, and even for the enemy. It’s the love one has for those who are different: those who don’t look like you, talk like you, live like you.
It’s the love that is manifested through justice; as Cornel West said, justice is what love looks like in public.
King knew that what we needed to repent from in our society is the idea that some people are more worthy of love, while other people are less worthy of love.
That idea—that some people are more worthy of love than others—manifests itself in all kinds of evil, from racism to sexism to classism. When laws are passed that take away rights from immigrants, or from transgender individuals, that all stems from the idea that some people who are different from me are less worthy of love than I am.
And if I actually believe that I am more worthy of love than others, then it becomes easy for me to insist that others don’t deserve the same rights, the same privileges, the same opportunities, that I have.
King knew that, in this country, we do not treat all people as beloved. We never have. Some are treated as more beloved than others. Some are given more rights than others. Some are treated as more good than others.
This is, of course, contrary to the message of the gospel, and contrary even to the stated ideals of this country.
I’ve been fortunate in that I’ve had many opportunities to learn about the privilege I have in our society, and to understand some of the ways that I and people who look like me are treated as if they are more worthy of love than others.
One time, I took a group of church youth on a weekend camping trip. We made reservations at a privately-owned campground, and when we arrived, it was evening, and it was hard to see the campsite numbers, so I drove around very slowly trying to read the signs and find which campsite was ours.
When I finally found it, I parked, and walked to the office to check-in; but before I got there, the manager of the campground marched out of the office and confronted me, saying, “You know, this is a family campground; we have children playing, and we don’t need you driving through here recklessly.”
Knowing that I had driven extra slowly and carefully, I was baffled and upset by his demeanor. Why was he yelling at me, and treating me so rudely?
I walked back to the campsite greatly disturbed. The youth who I brought were still in the car, waiting, and I told them how the campsite manager yelled at me, and that I had no idea why.
But then I looked at the youth in my car. One was blond, one was Asian, one was Black; and without really saying anything, I could see in their eyes that they had experienced this before, and they knew exactly why this campground manager was being rude and disrespectful.
When that campground manager looked in my car, he did not see three kids who were all equally worthy of love. He did not see three lives that all mattered the same.
We ended up not staying there. Instead, we drove down the road to a nearby state park, and the ranger at the entrance station gave us a friendly greeting when we arrived.
I asked, “Can we stay here?” She looked in my car, gave us a great big smile, and said, “Of course you can!” and she warmly welcomed us to the park. In her eyes, we all mattered, we were all worthy of love, and we felt welcomed and affirmed.
We still live in a world where some lives matter more than others; we still live in a world where some people are deemed more worthy of love and respect than others; we still live in a world where some enjoy privileges that others do not have.
Our job in the church is to let every person, no matter who they are, know that they are loved, that their life matters.
And we are called to especially reach out to those who have been told by the world, in one way or another, that their lives do not matter. We are called to show love to those who have been denied love. We are called to work for justice on behalf of those who have been denied justice.
It’s what the Torah instructs. It’s what the prophets require. It’s what Jesus commands in the Sermon on the Mount…
I am still learning how to love my neighbor as I love myself; I’m still learning how to treat every person as a beloved child of God.
It’s not always easy.
So I am thankful that God has never given up on me, and that God is always willing to lead me to greater love…
And I’m thankful that God forgives me when I fail to show love as I should, when I fail to act in a way that lets others know that they are beloved.
And I’m so thankful that, even with my shortcomings, God still loves me, and still calls me beloved, and that nothing will ever change that. Nothing will ever change God’s love. Not for me, not for you, not for anyone.
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