In the movie The Lion King, grown up Simba is struggling to find his way as he processes losing his father when he was very young. As a young adult, Simba encounters Rafiki, who tells Simba that his father is alive. Rafiki answers Simba’s disbelief with, “And I’ll show him to you.” Rafiki begins to run away, and Simba struggles to keep up with him. Their wild chase ends at the edge of a pool of water where Rafiki tells Simba to look and see.

Simba looks into the water. Disappointment washes over his face and he says to Rafiki, “That’s not my father. That’s just my reflection.” Rafiki points at the water again and tells Simba, “Look harder.” As the water in the pool ripples, Simba’s appearance is transformed and he can see his father staring back at him.

“Simba,” his father Mufasa says,” you have forgotten me.”

“No. How could I?” Simba says with desperate disbelief.

“You have forgotten who you are and so forgotten me. Look inside yourself, Simba. You are more than what you have become. You must take your place in the Circle of Life.”

Simba asks, “How can I go back? I’m not who I used to be.”

Mufasa answers Simba with these powerful words: “Remember who you are. You are my son, and the one true king.”

Remember who you are.

Infused in the plots of so many great and memorable movies, especially children’s movies that are also geared toward adults, is the idea that who we are is buried deep. It gets covered up by the pain of life and by our experiences, and we spend much of our adulthood trying to rediscover who we really are on the inside. We see this in Moana, in Frozen, and in the newest Disney movie Encanto. Each of these movies finds a character (or multiple characters!) struggling to remember who they are deep down inside. These movies connect with us because so many of us find ourselves asking the same question. Who am I, really?

Today, we are concluding our Advent in Plain Sight series on Baptism of Our Lord Sunday. Our tangible object to guide us today is water, specifically the water of baptism. In our reading from the Gospel of Mark we find the short version of the story of the baptism of Jesus. Jesus was baptized in the Jordan River by John, and as Jesus came up out of the water, the heavens were torn open and the Holy Spirit descended like a dove. A voice from heaven said, “You are my Son, the Beloved; with you I am well pleased.” You are my Son. This is who you are.

The way Mark recounts the story, it sounds as though the voice and the heavens opening was something meant for Jesus only. We aren’t told how the crowd of people reacted, or even how Jesus reacted to what he saw and heard. But, in that moment, the ministry of Jesus was confirmed. Jesus, God’s Son, was God’s beloved and God was pleased with him.

How many of us long to hear those same words said to us? I don’t think it matters how old we get or how many accomplishments we have, all of us want to know that we are beloved and that someone is proud of us. We want to know that someone sees us and all that we’ve gone through, and that they love us just the same. 

On Baptism of Our Lord Sunday, we remember the way Jesus was baptized in the river Jordan, but more than that, we remember our own baptisms. If you have never been baptized, this Sunday is an opportunity to consider baptism in the future. In baptism, we celebrate the reality that God claims us, and that God loves us as God’s own children. In baptism, we hear the pastor say to us – if we are adults – or to our parents that God has chosen us before we have done anything to earn God’s favor. In baptism, we learn who we really are.

In Isaiah 43, we encounter the people of Israel in need of a reminder of who they are. I love the way Anathea Portier-Young, Associate Professor of Old Testament at Duke Divinity School, explains the situation. She begins with the seemingly unimportant words that began our reading for this morning: “But now.” Here’s the way she puts it:
“But now” — hear the jarring declaration of reversal (43:1). Whatever has gone before is 

now swept away. To proclaim the good news in this passage, the preacher must understand and convey the desolation that precedes it: God “gave up Jacob” (42:24). God poured out on God’s chosen people the heat of divine judgment, burning them with the fire of war (42:25). Forsaken, brutalized, and conquered, God’s people became prisoners in foreign lands, where no one, not even God, would claim them. No one would speak for them and say, “They are mine, give them back to me, free my people” (42:22). The new divine word — “But now” — breaks the devastating silence that haunted God’s people through generations in exile. The new word announces an end to judgment and proclaims the promise of life from captivity and death.

To be clear, there was never a time when God didn’t care about the people while they were in exile, but I’m certain they felt forgotten. I imagine they felt abandoned as they cried out to God to let them go back into their land in freedom. But now, all of that would change. In one of the most beautiful passages in all of Scripture, Isaiah gives the people this word from God: “Do not fear, for I have redeemed you; 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: (Isaiah 43:1b-3a).

You would think the love of God for us would be so amazing that we would never forget it. You would think we would hear God call us “beloved” and name us “children of God” and we would wear those words like a badge of honor and display them proudly everywhere we go. But, quite often the opposite is true. God calls us “beloved” and we struggle to believe it. God calls us his children, and we doubt that it could be true. Doesn’t God know the things I’ve done? Doesn’t God see how hard it is for me to do the right thing sometimes? Surely, I’m not beloved. Surely, I’ve been cast out of the family of God.

And when we go through difficult times, we may struggle even harder to remember. During the height of isolation during this pandemic, I imagine many of us wondered if God had forgotten us. We wondered how long God would let us go through the fire. We wondered if God would ever see us through. And now that we have yet another variant on the horizon and as more and more people end up sick or worried or separated from people they love, we may wonder, “Are we really beloved?”

We are a forgetful people sometimes. We forget where we parked our car in the grocery store parking lot. We forget to return phone calls, or we forget to do our homework. I’m sure that doesn’t describe any of us here, does it? 

Once, I was talking to my mom on the phone. We were engaged in quite a conversation, when suddenly I felt a sensation of panic. I hadn’t seen my cell phone in a while, so I started looking for it while I was talking to her. After a while, I started to grow frantic, so I told my mom, “Mom, I lost my cell phone somewhere in the house.” Friends… she tried to help me look for it over the phone before she said, “Didn’t you call me from your cell phone?” I was afraid I had lost it while I was using it. Oh, how we can be a forgetful people! (At least, I can be a forgetful person, I don’t know about you!)

Today, on Baptism of Our Lord Sunday, we remember that we belong to God. We are not defined by this world or what others think of us. We are not defined by our circumstances. At our very deepest selves, we are beloved children of God. 

So, what does this mean? 

First and foremost, it means that God claims you. If you are already walking with Jesus, you’ve heard this before and you know it, but it doesn’t mean you don’t forget it sometimes. Take some time and remember that God loves you and calls you his own. If you are newer to faith, and you haven’t been baptized, this is an invitation to consider being baptized. Baptism isn’t what saves us, but it is a visible sign of the invisible truth that you are a child of God. If you’re interested in being baptized, or having your child baptized, please talk to either me or to Pastor Jeff about that.

So, remember that God claims you, not because of all the good things you’ve done, but because of who God is. And then, share this good news with others. In the verses immediately following our passage from Isaiah 43, it says this: “Bring forth the people who are blind, yet have eyes, who are deaf, yet have ears! Let all the nations gather together, and let the peoples assemble. Who among them declared this, and foretold to us the former things? Let them bring their witnesses to justify them, and let them hear and say, “It is true.” You are my witnesses, says the Lord” (Isaiah 43:8-10a). 

This week, rest in the assurance that God claims you and loves you. And, offer that love and blessing to others. It may not be through words, or maybe it will be. It might look like offering a helping hand, like providing a listening ear, like leaving soup on the doorstep of someone with Covid, or sending a card in the mail to someone who might be lonely. Shine that light and that love to others.

In just a moment, you will be invited to come forward and take a glass bead bookmark from the baptismal font. You can use these bookmarks when you’re reading your Bible, or when you are reading another book. The beads are meant to remind us of our baptisms and who we belong to. On the other end of the bookmark, there is a wooden ring to remind us that God’s love for us has no end. For those of you who may be watching this service from home, if you would like to receive one of these bookmarks, leave a comment on the livestream or feel free to stop by the office next week to pick one up. 

To close, I want to share with you this poem written by Persian lyricist Hafiz.

I sometimes forget

that I was created for Joy.

My mind is too busy.

My Heart is too heavy

for me to remember

that I have been

called to dance

the Sacred dance of life.

I was created to smile

To Love

To be lifted up

And to lift others up.

O Sacred One

Untangle my feet

from all that ensnares.

Free my soul.

That we might

Dance

and that our dancing

might be contagious.