Beloved of God (uh oh...)
Clare L. Hickman
St. Luke’s Episcopal Church, Ferndale
February 11, 2024—Last Epiphany B
2 Kings 5:1-14; 1 Corinthians 9:24-27; Mark 1:40-45
If God declares you “beloved,” the smart choice might well be to turn tail and run. As nice as it sounds, it generally means things are about to go down, and someone is going to be sent somewhere they’d probably rather not go.
This isn’t the first time Jesus has heard the phrase. At his baptism, the Spirit of God descended, and a voice from heaven assured him, “You are my beloved son. In you I am well pleased.” Which sounds lovely, so I don’t mean to be flippant when I say that the very next thing to happen is that same Spirit driving him out into the desert to be tempted by Satan and harassed by wild beasts.
Here, at the Transfiguration, we hear the phrase again. This time, as Jesus appears flanked by Hebrew prophets, God proclaims to all: “This is my beloved Son. Listen to him!”
Listen to him! But not because listening to Jesus will somehow allow him to avoid the path to cross and death that he has just revealed to his disciples. Listen to my beloved one BECAUSE he’s on the path to the cross, because that collision is inescapable, when the Kingdom of God confronts the kingdoms of this world. Listen to my beloved one and live according to his ways, even though the path surely frightens you.
Most of us would rather not listen to that. We would prefer belovedness to mean some kind of protection and favor. Even those of us who see how shallow and absurd that idea is, we still recognize how nice it would be, to be God’s favorite and have God give us things, and do things for us, and be on our side.
Thing is, the faithful question is not whether God is on our side. The faithful question is whether we are on God’s side. To believe that God is on our side leads to a belief that anything we do is, by definition, the “right thing to do.” But if our question remains (always, every time) “Are we on God’s side in this?” it forces us to ask if what we want to do aligns with what God desires (liberation, justice, humility, care for the vulnerable)? If so, then it is the right thing, and we are on the side of God.
And when it comes to the idea that to be beloved of God means that God will shower us with what we like to call blessings? The story of Jesus argues otherwise.
As already pointed out, the belovedness proclaimed at his Baptism immediately led to his being tempted by Satan in the wilderness. Belovedness did not prevent that, though it did provide ministering angels alongside the wild beasts.
Here at the Transfiguration, belovedness is once again proclaimed. Again, it does not foreshadow a cushy, protected life. God does not provide his beloved son a lucrative job, a big house, a beautiful spouse and children, and a life free of conflict and opposition. He does get followers, but most of the time, they’re idiots. And they certainly can’t protect him from the deadly consequences of the work God gives him.
The Cross is the third crucial moment in the gospel of Mark; the third point when heaven and earth meet. It begins with the baptism, hinges here at the transfiguration, and climaxes at the crucifixion. At the cross, there is no voice from heaven proclaiming Jesus’ belovedness. Instead, Jesus himself cries out to heaven: “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?”
This is where belovedness will lead us. At some point, we will feel abandoned. We will be bereft, we will feel betrayed, we will wish we had NEVER begun this journey. Better to follow the gods of worldly security. Better to just take care of ourself. Better to do anything, go anywhere, follow any path other than the one of belovedness by God.
Because being loved by God does not, apparently, mean a life of being protected, cosseted, and blessed with all manner of good fortune. As it turns out, it’s a lot more like real parenting. In which we might well WANT to protect our children from every suffering, and give them everything they could ever want. But even if that were possible, it’s not actually what they need. They need to try and risk and fail, just as we did, in order to grow. They need to earn things for themselves, to get the appreciation and satisfaction that can only come from doing the work. And (hardest one of all) they have to suffer, because that is the unavoidable consequence of actually living, loving, and being in this world.
We love our children, and so we release them into the world, knowing that they will struggle, knowing that they will in some ways suffer. In much the same way, God loves us, and sends us out. And just as our children might be tempted to just stay home and let us take care of them, we might not be particularly enthusiastic about where God sends us. To be honest, God has a history of sending his most beloved ones into particularly difficult situations. Because when God loves you, you will be drawn into loving God in return, and loving God means living a life of service and sacrificial love. And chances are, it won’t be the service and sacrifice that you had in mind!
Which makes it costly. That’s the central message of the Gospel of Mark: that discipleship will be costly, and you need to know that up front! But … you should do it anyway. Though it seems like the worst idea possible, the very worst choice you could make … to borrow from the famous quotation about democracy, it’s the worst choice possible, except for all the alternatives.
Because all of the alternatives will actually turn you away from the love of God. From the fullness of the love you could receive from God, and the fullness of the love of God you could share with the world.
No more than that, and no less. Like the hope we have for our children’s growth, maturity and resiliency, which is all we have to cling to when we nudge them out of the nest: it can feel like a small and uncertain thing. But it is truly the greatest thing we can offer, the largest and most meaningful thing we could hope for them (and God could hope for us).
You are my beloved child.
(Good luck with that).
If you go where God sends you, there will be wild beasts, for sure. But there will also be angels to minister to you, so there is that. The choice, O beloved of God, is yours.