Scripture shapes individuals, and it also shapes Christian
community, the church. Paul writes, “There are many
members yet one body.” He offers us a vision of the
church that, like a human body, is made up of many parts,
each with different form and function, each with different
placement and purpose, each worthy on its own and
each vital to the whole.
When I occasionally get asked about how I ended up in
ministry, the truest answer is this: I was baptized at First
Presbyterian Church of Ocala, Florida, and the body of
Christ at this church, my home church, was faithful to the
promises they made at my baptism.
You know, that question we answer each and every time
we witness a baptism right here on these chancel steps:
“Do we, as members of the church of Jesus Christ and
representatives of this congregation, promise to guide
and nurture this child by word and deed, with love and
prayer, encouraging her to know and follow Christ and to
be a faithful member of the church?”
This question gets asked at every baptism at every
Presbyterian church, and it is never just a formality. On the
day of my baptism, the saints at First Presbyterian Church
of Ocala were asked this very question and they said yes.
I have no memory of this, I was just a baby — but they
said yes, and they meant it.
They guided and nurtured me, teaching me the faith in
Sunday School and summers of VBS. I knew their love in
hugs and smiles, and through the faces that would beam
at me as I sang in the children’s choir. They taught me the
sweetness of Christian community through bread and
juice served in tiny little cups during communion, and
through the other sacred feast, donuts and juice during
coffee hour.
As a very young child and as I grew, I knew I was safe at
church. I knew I was loved by all of these people, some of
whom I knew, some of whom I didn’t. But they knew me,
and through their love I came to know that God loved me.
At my baptism, they said yes, and they meant it. What a gift.
There’s a special place in heaven for youth leaders, I know
that now. As a middle schooler and high schooler I loved
going to youth group and being with my friends, but it
wasn’t only about being with my peers. The adult leaders
made youth group the fun, safe, joyful place that it was. I
think of people like Shannon, Rod and Linda, Darrel, Rusty,
Lindsay, and others who gave of their time faithfully every
week to come and hang out with a bunch of middle and
high schoolers. They were busy people. Most of them had
jobs. But they regularly spent hours of their time with us,
they took us on youth retreats and mission trips, they gave
of their time so that we had a consistent place to come
where we knew we were loved by God and by them.
Because of those youth leaders, youth group was a
place of refuge in some obvious ways, as middle and
high schoolers dealing with the pressures of the teenage
years and in some not-so-obvious ways. There were
those among us who weren’t so sure about our faith
but came every week because it was a solid meal and
a place of physical safety. There were those among us
who didn’t have safe adults at home, or who were living
in households in the grips of addiction. There were those
among us struggling with mental health issues, with
depression, with eating disorders.
I now know enough to know that these kids weren’t just in
my youth group; they’re in every youth group. God bless
the people who give of their time to be a consistent, loving
presence in the lives of our children. It makes a difference.
It is the promises of baptism lived out. It is Christ’s body
alive, a community of love, witness, and mutual care.
My home church’s faithfulness in the promises that they
made at my baptism taught me what it means to be
church and inspired in me a deep belief in what Christ’s
body, the church, can do and be in the world.
In Paul’s first letter to the Corinthians, we hear good news
for each one of us: that through baptism, we are made
members of one body. It’s not through a test, or how
worthy or good we are. Through baptism, we are made
members of one body, Christ’s body. Each part different,
each part necessary. Each unique and yet part of a
magnificent whole.
Episcopal priest Dr. Raewynne Whiteley writes,
“We come to the water of baptism as individuals,
independent and relatively self-contained. We come
[away from] that water changed. Our identity is no
longer solitary; we can no longer truly be known without
reference to that community into which we have been
incorporated: the body of Christ, the church. After
baptism, we are more than just ourselves; we are by
definition beings-in-relationship.”
But there is a tension here. Dr. Whiteley continues, “As
far as 1 Corinthians is concerned, there is no belonging
without participating. That abrogates the nature of the
body…belonging is not a one-sided affair. We are given
the gift of belonging at baptism, but we are also signing
up for the responsibility of functioning as part of the body
of Christ” (281).
Belonging is a gift. And it is also a responsibility.
Paul’s metaphor of the one body is simple, but we all
know there is nothing simple about the kind of belonging
he describes.
This type of belonging asks us to be who we are, because
whether we are a foot or an ear or a nose, the body needs
us to be that thing. There is such vulnerability in being
ourselves, and in sharing our truest and deepest selves
with one another and with the world.
The kind of belonging Paul describes asks us to care for
and honor other members: their being, their contributions,
and their needs. This might mean re-examining long-held
beliefs and prejudices. It might mean creating space for
difference, growing in humility, and turning away from the
desire to know it all or to be right.
This type of belonging asks us to care for and honor the
whole: giving what we are able to contribute, prioritizing
the body’s health, wholeness, and witness above our
personal priorities, desires, and goals. Sacrificing our time.
Giving of our resources.
Through baptism, God gives us the gift of belonging. Our
belonging to the body of Christ never changes and can
never be taken away. Even if we move away or change
congregations, we belong to the body of Christ.
What can change and hopefully does change is our own
understanding of our belonging, and the way we engage
our belonging.
I’ll share one way this has evolved in my life:
As a young child at First Presbyterian of Ocala, I was
taught the importance of generosity. In fact there was one
Sunday that the pastor of my childhood, Dr. Ray Ruark, sat
all of us children down on the chancel steps. He held up
a dollar and taught us that we should give part of every
dollar to the church. This was what it meant to show our
gratitude to God, and to be part of God’s work through
the church. I took the lesson quite literally and proceeded
to go home, pull the few dollar bills out of my piggy bank,
and rip a piece off of each one to give to the church.
I understood that giving was good, and over the
years, I would bring some money to church to place
in the offering plate. But my understanding of my own
belonging and my responsibility to the community would
continue to grow.
I was now a young adult, in my early twenties. The pastor
of my childhood had retired several years before and we
had a new pastor, Dr. Raymond Guterman. By now I had
sensed God calling me to ministry and I was preparing to
go to seminary. Our new pastor, Dr. Guterman, invited me
to lunch so that we could get to know each other a bit. In
that conversation he named my home church’s promise
to pray for me, and their desire to tangibly support my
seminary education. In that spirit he shared the news that
the Session had voted to send me a $100 check each
month to be used for whatever I needed: books, my cell
phone bill, groceries. They knew seminary was expensive
and they wanted to help lighten the load.
I was grateful, although not surprised, at the generosity
of my home church and their desire to keep fulfilling their
baptismal promises to me.
What was a little surprising was what came next. Dr.
Guterman continued, “Now Madison, I know this might
sound a little funny to you, but I would like to make a
request. We’re sending you this money each month,
and I’m going to ask that you send some back, even if
it’s just $10. It’s important for you and important for us
to know that we are supporting each other in ministry.
We’re invested in your success and your preparation for
ministry, and it will mean a lot for folks here in Ocala to
know that you are invested in our ministry.”
This is not exactly how I expected the conversation to
go, and while I didn’t say this to him, I did think it was a
little silly for them to send me a $100 check only for me to
send them back a $10 check – couldn’t they just send me
a check for $90 and we could call it a day? But over time
I came to see the brilliance and the deep faithfulness in
his words.
Here’s what happened: Every month during my three
years at Louisville Seminary, First Presbyterian Church
of Ocala would send me a check for $100. And because I
didn’t trust myself to write and mail a check every month,
I set up a $10 monthly autopay to first Presbyterian
Church of Ocala. Even though I wasn’t physically
touching it, that simple practice, and that small amount
of money, gave my gratitude somewhere to go. I’d see the
$10 debit come up on my checking account statement
and I’d be reminded from across the miles, “I belong to
those people, and they belong to me.” I’d think about their
ministries — ministries that I had personally witnessed,
participated in, and benefited from — and I’d feel the joy
of knowing the good things I was supporting. On good
days, I’d be nudged to pray for them. On hard days, I’d be
reminded of my connection to this group of people who
believed in me and sent me with their blessing.
I had belonged to the church my whole life and only then
did I understand that real belonging costs something.
Not in the way of a cost of admission, and not always
in the sense of money. Belonging means participating.
Dr. Guterman taught me that I belonged to the body
of Christ at First Presbyterian of Ocala even if I wasn’t
physically there. He taught me that they needed me, that
the church couldn’t faithfully do their ministry without
me. He opened the door for me to engage in the spiritual
practice of giving in a way that I had never done before. I
was no longer giving just when I happened to be sitting
in church and happened to have a few dollars to place in
the offering plate. Now I was giving like it mattered. On a
schedule! It was only $10, but it was what I could spare
at the time, and I continue to learn the immeasurable
spiritual value of that practice and the seeds that Dr.
Guterman planted at lunch that day.
Through baptism, we belong to the body of Christ. This
is a gift we are given, and a responsibility we share. By
the grace of God, our understanding of that gift and
responsibility continues to grow and evolve.
One day several years ago I was going over our family
budget ,and I had a sudden realization. By this time, I
had shifted my giving from First Presbyterian of Ocala
here to Second, and I had worked over the years to
steadily increase my monthly giving as I was able. On
this particular day, several years ago, the numbers on
the spreadsheet jumped out at me in way that I couldn’t
unsee: our family was spending more on lawncare than
we were giving to the church!
This hit me as a sort of spiritual crisis: didn’t I care more
about Christ’s mission in this place than about the
mulching of my flower beds?!
At that stage in my journey of faith, I could see clearly
that my priorities were out of line. Our family budget
wasn’t telling the right story. We weren’t going to give up
caring for our yard, but we needed to make some shifts
to our overall budget so that the allocation of our family’s
resources better reflected the commitment of our faith.
By God’s grace, my understanding of belonging had
evolved. My understanding of what it means to be
responsible for and to Christ’s body, the church had
grown, and it continues to grow.
I wonder: What does it mean to you to belong to the
body of Christ, and to the congregation of Second
Presbyterian Church?
In what ways do you experience the joy of belonging? What
kind of responsibility do you feel to and for this community?
Are you an ear? A hand? A foot? How can we better see
and celebrate you in your ear-ness, or your foot-ness? What
did being a hand mean to you 10 years ago, 5 years ago –
what does it mean now? What might it mean in the future?
I shared with you my own journey around the spiritual
practice of giving, and how that has been a helpful lens
for me to understand the evolution of my own belonging.
But there are many other measures.
Paul writes, “If one member suffers, all suffer together with
it; if one member is honored, all rejoice together with it.”
One question we might ask ourselves is, “To what extent
am I aware of the sufferings and the joys of others in my
church family?” Or, “How much are others aware of my
sufferings and joys?” If the answer is ‘not very,’ perhaps
this is an invitation to pursue greater connection.
Another question we might ask ourselves is, “When is
the last time another member of the body taught me
something new, or changed my mind about something?”
“Which members of the body have we intentionally or
unintentionally dishonored or excluded?”
“How can I contribute to the health and wholeness of
Christ’s body?”
Friends, know this: through your baptism, you belong. You,
in all your uniqueness and imperfection, in all your quirks
and gifts, you belong to Christ’s body. You are needed
within Christ’s body. We are Christ’s body, together.
Let us receive that gift with thanksgiving, and let us
feel the joyful weight of our own calling, of our own
participation in the body, in and through Christ, so that
our life together will make Christ visible for one another
and the world. Amen.