We Belong to God March 11, 2001

Gen. 15: 1-6, 18; Phil 3:17-4:2; Luke 13: 31-35

Fred Craddock, a noted preacher and seminary professor tells the true story about a young boy who grew up in distressed and troubled circumstances. Craddock heard the story from the boy himself - now an older man - as they had a chance encounter some years ago. Here’s the gist of the story:

It seems that this young boy grew up without any knowledge of who his father was. His mother was a single woman who had gone through numerous relationships and created a notorious reputation for herself in the small Southern town where they lived. Though he obviously was not the cause of this situation, the boy was the victim of the small-minded and prejudicial attitudes that can be so common. He was branded as “illegitimate,” and was shamed and rejected by most of the people in this straight-laced community. He became very shy and withdrawn, accepting without question the townsfolks’ unfair evaluation of his life and character. But something changed for him one day when he went to church.

He had heard that there was a new preacher in town and he decided to go to a Sunday service. He sat in the back, by himself, not daring to take a place with any of the church members, but as this new preacher was speaking he felt himself drawn in and captivated. When the service was over he spent a few minutes sitting by himself, reflecting on what he had heard, and then he tried to slip out the door - in his shyness not wanting to have to talk with anyone. But the preacher was standing by the door, greeting the last few people leaving the sanctuary, and as the boy tried to slip out the preacher grabbed him around the shoulders with a friendly gesture.

“I’m just getting to know everybody,” the preacher said. “What’s your name? Whose boy are you?” The boy didn’t know what to say, and the other folks suddenly got very quiet. There was a brief moment of awkward silence and then the pastor said “Wait a minute, I can see very well whose boy you are. There’s a very strong family resemblance. You’re obviously a son of the almighty God. It’s written all over you, plain as day.” Then gesturing to the open door and the waiting world, the preacher said “You’re a son of God. Go on out and claim your inheritance.”

The boy, now an old man, said to Fred Craddock, “That made all the difference in the world in the way I thought about myself. That one remark changed my life.” After the man had gone on his way, Craddock said to someone else in the group, “That was an amazing story. What was the man’s name?” And his companion said “That was Ben Hooper, a two-term governor of the state of Tennessee.”

Who do you belong to? Whose son or daughter are you? We gave an answer a few moments ago as we were singing. “We belong to God....... We belong to God......” (Hymn #356 “When We are Living.”) There are lots of “belongings” that we value - many groups, many claims on our loyalty - family, country, social organizations, political parties, prayer groups, sports teams. They give us an identity and shape who we are, often in a positive way, but at a fundamental level there’s one answer to the question of belonging. Like that boy, Ben Hooper, we belong to God.

All of today’s scripture readings illustrate this belonging, and I’ll touch briefly on each of them this morning. The Genesis reading sums it up with the word “covenant.” Paul’s letter to the Philippians has a similar word: “citizenship.” And in the gospel reading, illustrated in the actions and words of Jesus, we find an example of this belonging at it’s fullest.

Covenant - a word first encountered in the story of Noah, and then in the Abraham story - is a theme all through the Bible. A covenant is a solemn agreement, a compact, a binding formal relationship, and in ancient times this word was a political term used to describe the relationship between a king or lord and his underlings. Such covenants were not mutual agreements between equals, but were dictated by the stronger party. So a strong king might say “This is my covenant with you: You can farm my land, but you have to give me half the produce. I will protect you in time of war, but your sons will be required to join my army. I will establish laws for you to keep the order, but I require your obedience and unquestioning loyalty.......” The weaker parties don’t set the terms but simply make the best of the covenant they have been given.

Our Biblical ancestors knew that covenants were dictated by the higher power. This was God’s terms of agreement, not a negotiated deal - but here’s what is so amazing. Unlike most earthly covenants, which could be guaranteed to give most of the benefits to the king who was calling the shots, God’s covenant is amazingly generous. Blessing upon blessing is given, beginning with the promise to Abraham that he will be blessed with a family, despite his old age, and the promise that this family will become a great nation. All through the scriptures we find this constant thread of human failure to keep the covenant, but we also see God’s determination to be faithful to his side of the deal - a determination that comes to fullness in Jesus. People fall away. Abraham and all the patriarchs have their times of sinfulness. The people of Israel have a spotty record of faithfulness. The Church of Jesus - which includes us - has many shameful flaws and embarrassing failures. All of us have sinned. And yet “we belong to God.” We belong, not because of our virtues, but because God is a covenant-keeping God, a forgiving God, a God not of the second chance, but of innumerable chances. We belong to God, because God has made a covenant - “I will be your God and you will be my people” - and God keeps the covenant.

Covenant - We belong to God. We are spiritual descendants of Abraham, included in the promises of our covenant-keeping God, and for that how can we fail to be grateful?

In the letter to the Philippians Paul uses a related word: citizenship. As followers of Christ we have a unique identity, a citizenship that transcends being American, or German or Chinese, or any other nationality. “Our citizenship is in heaven,” says Paul, and in today’s reading he is trying to make the point that citizenship implies a responsibility. If we belong to God we should act like people of God. Paul is concerned about some people in Philippi who seem to be living in a completely materialistic way. He says that “their god is their belly.” Personal gratification seems to be all that they care about, and Paul warns them that such lives will end in ruin. God is a faithful, covenant-keeping God, but we have a responsibility too. God will not batter down the doors of our lives, insisting that we accept his grace. God will not automatically make us good and happy, though he constantly wants to open the doors to such a life. Paul is concerned about people who are throwing their citizenship in heaven away - spurning it, ignoring it, wasting it, by living with materialism as their real interest, their real “god.”

We belong to God. We belong because God loves us and wants to be in covenant with us. We belong - and since we belong we should be trying to live like citizens of God’s kingdom. We should live in a way that reflects who we really are.

And now let’s look at the gospel reading, from Luke 13. In the first verses we see Jesus fulfilling his citizenship, living up to his covenant. There are some Pharisees who come to give Jesus a warning, saying “Get away from here, for Herod wants to kill you.” (This is not the same Herod who killed the infants at the time of Jesus’ birth, but a descendant, Herod Antipas, who was in charge of northern Israel.) They’re trying to get Jesus out of harm’s way, but Jesus knows he has work to do. He has a citizenship, an identity, a role to play in faithfulness to God, and he is not going to run from it. So he says “Go and tell that fox - i.e. Herod - that I have to finish my work. I am casting out demons, and performing cures, today and tomorrow, and on the third day I finish my work..”

Jesus’ example reminds us that belonging to God sometimes means sacrifice, danger, and cost. If we’re citizens of heaven we should live like people of God, even at the times when it is frightening, or costly, or threatening. Jesus wasn’t going to run from his mission.

I heard, not too long ago, about a Christian man who hired a former prisoner to work in his business - even after having had a bad experience with another ex-prisoner on the job. Why would he take the risks of such a hiring when candidates without a prison record might be available? Because he thinks it’s a part of belonging to God, of being a citizen of heaven - running his business in a way that reflects the values of Jesus who came to redeem prisoners........... A few days ago the reading in our Lenten devotional came from two of our middle school youth who commented on how hard is to live like a Christian in their school. The pressures to live in other ways is steady - ranging from minor things like rudeness and cursing on up to serious wrongdoings. But many of our kids are trying to figure out how to live as a Christian in a setting that doesn’t give you any rewards for being religious. It isn’t easy - but if we belong to God, if we are citizens of heaven, we struggle to live out our identity........ I’m sure that if you stop to think about your life you will also be aware of challenges you face - times when it’s not easy to live as a Christian - honestly, compassionately, bravely. At such moments we need to remember who we belong to, remember God’s covenant with us, remember our citizenship......

That’s what Jesus was doing as he refused to run from Herod, and as he set his face to go toward Jerusalem, that place he called “the city that kills the prophets.” As a human being our Jesus a stellar example of what we should be striving to be. But as our Messiah Jesus is also an expression of God’s earnest love, God’s desire to keep his covenant in the face of human rejection. Listen again to his emotional words about Jerusalem:

“Jerusalem, Jerusalem, the city that kills the prophets and stones those who are sent to it. How often have I desired to gather your children together as a hen gathers her brood under her wings, and you were not willing!” (Luke 13: 34)

He’s talking about a specific city, but the words really expand to include all of humanity. God, through Jesus, wants to embrace us. He wants to gather us. It’s a homely illustration, Jesus as a mother hen, but God wants to brings us under his wings, to include us in the covenant, to be our God, to shelter us and nurture us. What a contrast from Christ the King, or Christ the Righteous Judge - Jesus the mother hen! But Jesus’ emotional comments end with these stark words: “But you were not willing....” Time and again the human race has rejected God’s covenant. “How often have I desired to gather your children together as a hen gathers her brood under her wings, and you were not willing!”

I end with one final story, about the lengths to which God will go to keep his covenant, to make us his people, to keep open the doors of his love in the hopes that we will claim our identity and live as his people.

It’s a story I’ve encountered several times, most recently from a writer named Richard Fairchild, reflecting on the experience of a friend who grew up on a farm in British Columbia. The friend said that one day the hen house burned down on his grandpa's place just down the road. Ike arrived just in time to help put out the last of the fire. As he and his grandfather sorted through the wreckage, they came upon one hen lying dead near what had been the door of the hen house. Her top feathers were singed brown by the fire's heat, her neck limp. Ike wondered why that hen didn’t fly to safety, and he bent down to pick up the carcass. But as he did so, he felt movement. The hen's four chicks came scurrying out from beneath her burnt body. The chicks survived because they were insulated by the shelter of the hens wings, protected and saved even as she died to protect and save them. "How often would I have gathered your children together as a hen gathers her brood under her wings..."

God keeps his covenant with us, despite human rejection and sin, and in the mystery of the cross we see the lengths to which God’s love extends. Jesus was rejected by those whom he would have gathered under his wings, but in the cross we see his arms extended, his wings spread over us, his death as a sign of God’s saving love.

We belong to God. We belong because God has called us, invited us, included us, made us his own. And since we belong to God, we have the responsibility - and the joy - of living as people of God.