The men and women of the Bible, characters who have left their mark on history as believers, and those who impress and influence us today as examples of faith in action, draw one tremendous conclusion from the fact that we belong to God. For them it’s not a theory lurking in the back of the mind—“Yes; of course, in the end he’s the boss.” For them it is a daily working belief, and what it says is this: since I belong to God then nothing, not my worries, my pains, my fears, my sense of loneliness or depression, not the worst catastrophe that can happen to me, not death itself, can separate me from his love. The great images of the Bible come to life: He is our Rock, our Refuge and Strength, our mighty Fortress, our sure Foundation. He is the ultimate Lord of all being and underneath us are his everlasting arms. Jesus descended into this hell of alienation from man and God that is our deepest fear in the working belief that nothing could break the tie that bound him to that everlasting love. “Father, into thy hands I commend my spirit,” were his last earthly words, and when he appeared again his disciples were given for all time their share in this assurance. They knew what he had meant when he said: “I give unto them eternal life; and they shall never perish, neither shall any man pluck them out of my hand. My Father who gave them to me, is greater than all, and no one is able to pluck them out of my Father’s hand.”
This working belief can be expressed very simply: to accept that we belong to God means that there is a point beyond which we cannot fall—the solid rock of an eternal love.
Belonging to God is then a belief that is lodged in the depth of the soul and begins to shape the direction of our lives. But there is more to ponder. We’re not just talking of that mysterious self that we call the soul. We are not invisible angel-spirits but human beings clothed, like the animals, with bodies, solid, complicated, bodies, from which we cannot escape, although we may rise beyond them in dreams and prayers. Yet it has become so difficult to persuade people that religion, this business of belonging to God, has to do with these bodies as well as our souls. The Bible has much more to say about the body than the soul. A worshipping congregation is a marvelous assembly of bodies which cannot be transformed into some nebulous flotilla of invisible spirits. So when I realize deep down that I belong to God, I should realize that this goes for my body too. It’s a gift from God which I hold in trust for him. And that has practical consequences as a working belief.
In the passage we heard from Paul’s letter to the Corinthian Church, he dealt with one aspect of our treatment of the body. Corinth was known for its total sexual license. It was one big 42 Street. And Paul had discovered that some of his young Christians there were interpreting his Gospel of the grace of God and freedom from the law to mean that, so long as their soul had been saved, they could do what they liked with their bodies. Hence his thunderous denunciation of the licentious bed-hoppers of Corinth, “What? Know ye not that your body is the temple of the Holy Ghost, which is in you, which ye have of God, and ye are not your own?”
Your body, he is saying, is not your own. It belongs to God, and you are responsible for it as a steward of God’s gift. This has implications far beyond the point that Paul was making here. If we, including our bodies, belong to God, then we have a duty to respect them. Without giving in to the prevailing hypochondria of the moment, we owe these bodies of ours at least enough care to keep them in repair, as good stewards of this gift of God.
So when we talk about the Christian doctrine of stewardship we mean much more than the use of money. When people come to recognize that word as an ecclesiastical code word for fund raising, they are tempted to switch off. Money and possessions do come into the picture, but only because they are such an integral part of the lives that belong to God. The basic belief is what Paul meant when he simply said: “You are not your own.” The power and glory of the Gospel—and the joy—lie not only in the assurance that since we belong to God, we have a safety net through which we cannot fall: but in the discovery that all we have—bodies, homes, talents, ambitions, bank accounts—we hold in trust for the God to whom they belong. When that becomes real belief, a new and satisfying power is at work in our lives.
“He came unto his own.” What we really are: his own. This is the crucial decision in anyone’s life: recognizing that we are “his own” and not “our own” to do what we like. That is what’s meant by receiving him, this living, giving, loving God. To as many as receive him, the One who became one of us in Jesus Christ, he gives the power to become the sons and daughters of God. To receive him means just saying: “Yes, Lord, I’m not my own. I belong to you. Take the whole of me.”
Then it must become as clear as daylight that a community of Christians with this working belief will want to share this discovery with all our neighbors. Evangelism is for us not an attempt to brainwash others into becoming Presbyterians. It’s the joyful invitation to all who are feeling lost or alone to share what Christ has given us. Rejoice with me! “He came unto his own” and “his own” are not the members of a holy club. “His own” includes the entire human family, but there are millions in our world who don’t know it. Shouldn’t we tell them—by what we say, what we do, and what we are?
Prayer: Lord, we are thine, help us to know it, to know it in the depth of our heart and to act accordingly, through Christ our Lord. Amen.
God’s Love—A New Pope and an Old Text
Editor’s Introduction
David Read had a standard routine for preparing sermons. He would begin thinking about the upcoming sermon on the weekend before it was preached. On Tuesday morning he chose the topic, text, readings, and hymns. On Wednesday morning he did his ruminating and researching. On Thursday morning he composed the first half of the sermon, and on Friday morning he completed the task.
However, when this sermon was prepared, Read wasn’t typing in his study on Friday morning. As we learn from the sermon itself, he was standing in a gale-like storm in Battery Park. Pope John Paul had recently been installed in office and was visiting New York. Along with thousands of others, David Read was braving the elements in the hope of getting a glimpse of the new leader.
The sermon that resulted should warm the hearts of Catholics and Protestants alike as it throws bright and engaging light on a beloved text that speaks to almost every churchgoer regardless of their ecclesiastical background. Indeed, I am confident that the Pope himself would have found this sermon on John 3:16 deeply moving.
God’s Love—A New Pope And An Old Text
A Sermon preached by David H. C. Read at Madison Avenue Presbyterian Church on Worldwide Communion Sunday, October 7, 1979
Text: “For God so loved the world, that he gave his only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in him should not perish, but have everlasting life.” John 3:16
Readings: 1 Corinthians 13; John 3:14–21
What happened to our city last week? We had a visitor—a distinguished visitor. But we have had many before. We have saluted heads of state, war heroes, astronauts, athletes; and, for a few hours, the city has seethed with excitement. This time it seemed to me that there was a unique quality about the reception given to our visitor. It was not only that he came with the nimbus of a holy office, one of the most ancient and celebrated throughout the world. (It is a little surprising in 1979 to see ticket-tape raining on the head of one who bears the title of His Holiness.) But it was not the office that electrified this city. It was the man. This was a new Pope, and we didn’t really know him till he was right here with us. We are told in the Gospels that when Jesus came into Jerusalem on Palm Sunday “all the city was moved, saying, Who is this?” Like everyone else, I wanted to know. I am willing to pay my respects to any leader of