Sermon for the 10th Sunday of Ordinary Time

God knew us as his children before we were born, and he knows what he has destined for us through Jesus Christ. To be baptized is to be let go of by our human parents, and set toward our destiny. And our destiny is passionate abandonment to God. And our journey toward that destiny should be a dance.

As we welcome Jackson Satterfield into the Household and family of God, let us not forget that someone welcomed him even longer than a time long ago, and in a place beyond any galaxy far, far away. The truth is that Jackson’s destiny was set long before his parents could imagine him in their lives. As we hear in the Letter to the Ephesians today, it was God who “destined us for adoption as his children through Jesus Christ” (1:5).

Before that Big Bang of unimaginable power in which God said, “Let there be light,” He already had Jackson Satterfield, and each one of us, in his memory. Jackson, and each one of us, has a destiny, a purpose, determined by God. And as we baptize Jackson, we begin to gently nudge him toward the destiny that God has in store for him.

In this gentle nudge we give him back to the God who first destined him for adoption. We don’t physically immerse anyone in water, although that is the literal meaning of the Greek word baptizo. And as it is said in our baptismal prayer, to be baptized is to be “buried with Christ in his death.” To use the metaphor of water, we might say that to be baptized is to be drowned with Christ in his death, that we might rise with him to everlasting life. But for Jackson to rise, his parents must first let go of him. Already, Jason and Allison are beginning that long process of letting go. If God destined us for adoption before the beginning of space and time, then in truth each and every one of us belongs to God. We are God’s children, first and last, at our beginning and at our end.

Jason and Allison, along with Jackson’s godparents, Joel and Dorothy, have temporary custody of Jackson. All four of you are Jackson's stewards. I charge you to be good stewards of Jackson, bringing him up in the Christian faith and life. Even when he begins to boldly assert that he knows more about life than any of you, don’t let go of him. Just hold on loosely. And when you do let go, trust that he is on his way to whatever God has destined for him.

None of us knows our destiny. In those years when Jackson is beginning to break away, he will seem a mystery to you. The truth is that he will be a mystery to himself – as we all are – praying with God, sometimes wrestling with God, as he discerns what God has destined him for. And when he does begin to discern his destiny, watch out! He might look like King David in today’s Old Testament reading. Nothing up to this point has prepared us for the spectacle that David seems to make of himself. He has been a brave shepherd boy bringing down a giant with his slingshot. He has been King Saul’s best soldier. He has been an outlaw on the run from King Saul. He has been a powerful king and commander sweeping away Israel’s enemies.

But imagine another general named David – Petraeus – becoming President one day. He goes to the Episcopal Church’s own national Cathedral in Washington, and during the service, he starts dancing down the long center aisle. Leaping in the air as he high as he can, rocking and whirling from side to side without the slightest hint of inhibition. Imagine the First Lady looking at him, horrified, as would we all.

But that also is who this great King David was. The man whose name means “beloved of God,” also loved God, and knew that all his power and fame was dependent on the God who had destined him to found a kingdom that would last forever. Remember that through his adoption by Joseph, Jesus was a son of David, and came to fulfill David’s destiny. And so David, trusting in God’s chosen destiny for him, danced with all his might, with every ounce of passion in his soul, in total abandonment to God.

And in some way, that is the destiny to which God calls each one of us, including Jackson on his special day: a life of passionate abandonment to God. Some years ago, I was at a service where a number of young people confirmed the faith that their parents had professed at their baptism. Now, they were making this faith their own. And at this service, that Bishop delivered a warning to those like me and Laura whose children were younger. “You bring your babies and toddlers to the Church and you say, civilize our children!” But that is not the Church’s mission, this Bishop said.

And so I say today, the Church’s principal mission is not to tame your wild ponies. My mission is to open as many doors as I can for them, so that the light of God will shine in their hearts, and fill them with a passion for God, and a passion for God’s people. The Christian life in which we all promise to uphold Jackson today is not principally a classroom where he is to be lectured at for 13 years or so, until he recites a creed at his confirmation, even though he does have a lot to learn, and we are responsible for teaching them what we have learned. The best thing we can do for our children is to guide them, to hand them along to each other, until God blows into their lives and sweeps them away toward their destiny.

So, until God cuts in, let us resolve to teach Jackson, and all our children, how to dance.