“Because you are precious
in my eyes, and honored, and I love you, I give men in return for you, peoples
in exchange for your life.” Isaiah 43:4.
Hush, little baby, don’t say a word,
Hush, little baby, don’t say a word,
Papa’s going to buy you a
mockingbird.
If that mockingbird won’t sing,
Papa’s going to buy you a diamond
ring.
If that diamond ring turns brass,
Papa’s going to buy you a looking
glass.
And on it
goes, that lullaby, with its gentle tale of generosity, abundance, and
love. It’s a good song to sing to a
child, isn’t it? What it says is this: I
love you more than anything in the whole world.
I would give anything to make you happy.
You have nothing to fear, because I care for you. All will be well.
It’s a
lovely song, one that sets a child’s life on the assurance of a parent’s love,
the most solid place of all for a child to stand. I would guess it was first sung by a poor man,
to a baby wrapped in blankets a little too thin. Men who know the price of diamonds don’t go
on about giving them to babies. There’s
something of hope in it, the promise that it will all work out some way, that
in the end, there will be grace.
I haven’t
lived so many years, but I’ve met enough people to understand that every baby
doesn’t have that song sung to him or her.
Lots of people grow up with much darker songs, like: “no matter how hard
you try, you’ll never live up to my expectations,” or “there’s something deeply
wrong with our life, and it’s all your fault,” or “this world is a cold and
dangerous place, and you’d better fight hard if you want to make it.” Now I’m no psychologist, but I do know this:
it can be a powerfully difficult thing to unlearn that song your parents sang
as they rock you to sleep as a tiny child.
People spend thousands of dollars, sit on dozens of therapists’ couches,
they turn to all sorts of destructive habits, all trying, well trying--to hear that lullaby that they somehow missed
back when they really needed it.
We don’t get
to choose that song that was sung to us.
That is one of those sad things about human life. We can choose what song we sing to our own
little ones, though. It’s one of the
most important responsibilities we have if God blesses us with children. And through the working of God’s grace, every
new Christian has a good song sung over him or her at the very beginning. The lullaby at the Font, you might call it,
the sure promise of God’s unfailing love.
We heard a
version of it in that breathtakingly beautiful passage from Isaiah’s prophecy,
read as our Old Testament lesson. Listen
to it again—and see if you can’t hear that familiar lullaby in it:
Fear not,” God says
through the prophet, “for I have redeemed you; I have called you by name, you
are mine. When you pass through the waters I will be with you; and through the
rivers, they shall not overwhelm you; when you walk through fire you shall not
be burned, and the flame shall not consume you.
For I am the LORD your God, the Holy One of Israel, your Savior. I give
Egypt as your ransom, Ethiopia and Seba in exchange for you. Because you are
precious in my eyes, and honored, and I love you, I give men in return for you,
peoples in exchange for your life. Fear not, for I am with you.
You are
mine, God is saying to his people. There
is nothing so precious that I would not give it to you. Egypt, the greatest civilization of the
ancient world, with its thundering chariots and temples that hold up the sky,
it would be my gift to you. The wealth
of Ethiopia and Seba, those exotic corners of the world, I would pour them into
your lap. I will hold you fast in the
raging waters, bring you safe through the flames. I love you more than you will ever know, and
you have nothing to fear.
These, you
should know, are not words spoken by the prophet in a time of prosperity, when
Israel was secure and confident. They
are promises made to the exiles, preparing to make their way back from
Babylon. They are words to a people with
no temple, no king, no earthly hope for a future. But God is not just a poor man with big dreams.
He is the true Creator, the Master of all things. What He promises, He will deliver.
Great and
wonderful promises were spoken over each of us when we were baptized. “You are marked as Christ’s own forever,” we
will say again today, as we anoint Emmeline with the Sacred Chrism. “Heavenly Father,” we will pray in the post
Baptismal Prayer, “we thank you that by water and the Holy Spirit you have
bestowed upon this your servants the forgiveness of sin, and have raised her to
the new life of grace. Sustain her, O Lord, in your Holy Spirit. Give her an
inquiring and discerning heart, the courage to will and to persevere, a spirit
to know and to love you, and the gift of joy and wonder in all your works.”[1]
From the
very beginning of the spiritual life, there is forgiveness, hope, abundant love. As Jesus stood in the Jordan, the Father
announced—“this is my Son, the beloved.”
We belong to God, we are made one with Christ. He says much the same to us, and then pours
out His gifts upon us: His Spirit in our hearts, courage and love, joy and
wonder. The list comes tumbling out—so
many blessings, an abundance of the gracious mercy of the Lord. In Holy Baptism, God fills with all we need,
all the blessings and graces to do the work set before us, and to continue in
fellowship with Him for all our days.
Today we
mark, with gratitude, another year in our common life as the people of Saint
Timothy’s. It has been a year with a
great deal of change, some of it very painful to many of you. I’m sure that it has sometimes felt like
passing through the water and the flame as you bade farewell to a number of greatly
loved leaders and companions. To some of
you, our resources seem scarcer than they have in the past, and you feel a
sense of loss about changes in programs and funding that help us to adjust to
the realities of a new and more challenging time. But God continues to bless us, even in disorienting
times. He remains abundant, raising up
new leaders, opening our eyes to new opportunities. Our Latino ministry has grown significantly
in the past six months. Our stewardship
campaign was a great success, with a great majority of those who participated
increasing their commitments over last year.
Our youth ministry and mission programs remain very strong, and we’ve
been exploring new opportunities for serving the needy in this community.
There’s a
word of grace today for all of us. God has
committed Himself to us irrevocably in Baptism.
And He speaks His good word over us: I love you. You don’t need to be afraid. There will be enough. All will be well. As you confess your faith, and renew your
commitment to following Christ, may you not be afraid to do what He has set
before you. May you hear his faithful
song of love, the lullaby sung over you by the matchless Father of mercy.
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