Fourth Sunday in Lent
March 19, 2023 | 10:00 a.m.
I Believe in Jesus Christ, God's Only Son, Our Lord
A Sermon Series on the Apostles' Creed
Shannon J. Kershner
Pastor, Fourth Presbyterian Church
Psalm 25
Philippians 2:5–11
I admit it — I like all of the Jan Karon books in the Mitford series. I am not sure how many of you have read any of them, but they follow the life of an Episcopal priest, Father Tim, as he ministers and lives in a small town in North Carolina. One of the primary reasons I like them is because Ms. Karon writes about clergy in a way that demonstrates our full humanity. She does not make us out to be either heroes or villains. She does not paint clergy to be bumbling simpletons, but she simply lets Father Tim live and work as his full beautiful and broken human self.
In the first book of that series, At Home in Mitford, she writes about an encounter that Father Tim has with a stranger in the sanctuary of the small Episcopal parish that Tim oversees. One evening, just after dark, Father Tim walks into the sanctuary. He doesn’t expect to see anyone, but he realizes there is a man sitting on one of the pews. Father Time starts to offer the man some help, but he notices the man’s head is bowed in prayer.
Eventually the man’s prayers become more audible, and finally the stranger lifts his face toward the ceiling, his voice rising to a shrill scream, and shouts, “If you’re up there, prove it!” Father Tim slips into the pew next to the stranger and responds, “I think the question is not ‘Are you up there?’ But rather, the question might be ‘Are you down here?’”
Are you down here? We continue this morning in our Apostles’ Creed sermon series, and we are finally to Jesus. Over the next couple of weeks, including our journey through Holy Week, we will explore just how God showed us God was down here in the middle of our own beautiful and broken humanness and all the implications that flow from God’s decision. Today, though, we remain still at a rather high level: “I believe in Jesus Christ, God’s only Son, our Lord.”
Though it might not initially seem like it, that one statement is a whole mouthful of thick theological claims, and we will think together about some of the ethical and moral implications of that statement through the lens of the Philippians text we just heard. But first I want us to pay attention to one small thing: the word in.
We use “in” only three times in this creed — all related to the triune God. We believe in God, the Father Almighty. We believe in Jesus Christ, God’s only Son, our Lord. We believe in the Holy Ghost, or Spirit. Those distinct yet interdependent persons of our triune God are the only objects of our belief. Now we certainly believe that God is the Maker of heaven and earth. We believe that Jesus suffered under Pontius Pilate. We believe that our sins are forgiven. But we only believe in God as Creator, Redeemer, and Sustainer.
Another way to think of believing in, of course, is to go back to the original Latin for the word belief: credo. Credo has the root that means “I give my heart.” So when we claim we believe in God, the Father Almighty; in Jesus Christ; in the Holy Spirit, we are claiming it is only to this Three-in-One God that we give our full hearts, our whole lives.
Someone recently asked me what the criteria is for membership in the church, specifically Fourth Church. And honestly, while membership carries with it many responsibilities, the only true criteria is a profession of Jesus Christ as Lord and Savior. It is not even required or expected that we will have figured out all that profession means. Baptism is always the beginning of the journey, not the end.
Rather, when we respond to that question with an “I do,” we are indicating that we are willing to give our heart to following God in the way of Jesus. We are affirming that we will do our best to live into trusting that the truest truth of who we are is that we are one of God’s beloved and that we promise to demonstrate our belovedness through our discipleship. We believe in Jesus Christ, God’s only Son, our Lord. That is the one to whom we give our heart and for whom we live our lives.
As I indicated, we are considering this part of our creed through the lens of this letter from Paul to the church in Philippi. You might remember that when Paul wrote this letter, he was sitting in an imperial prison, quite possibly in Ephesus, and he was aware that his confinement could end with his execution (Marcus Borg and John D. Crossan, The First Paul, p. 207). And yet, even amidst such a trying situation, Paul chose to reach out to a congregation with encouragement and guidance.
The congregation in Philippi was, undoubtedly, like we always are too: struggling to be faithful, worried about the future, and in need of guidance as they dealt with potentially damaging disagreements among themselves. The small church was located in the “complex and diverse religious, social, and political environment of the Roman Empire … where the questions of who really was Lord of the world and who deserved [their] ultimate allegiance and honor were unavoidable and urgent” (Daniel Migliore, Belief Commentaries: Philippians and Philemon, p. 2).
That picture of Paul writing from jail to a congregation that was trying to remember to whom they truly belonged reminds us of a later martyr for our Christian faith, Dietrich Bonhoeffer. During his own incarceration prior to his martyrdom under the Nazi regime in Germany, Dietrich Bonhoeffer also wrote letters from prison. One of those letters asked these questions: “What is bothering me incessantly is the question … who Christ really is, for us, today. What do we really believe? I mean, believe in such a way that we stake our lives on it?” (quoted in D. Migliore, Philippians and Philemon, p. 5).
That is, indeed, what was happening in Philippi when Paul wrote these words, words we now realize formed an early church hymn. As preacher James Howell writes, “To say Christ is Lord — is to have the mind of Christ, to think his thoughts, to value his values, to pursue his pursuits. When the first Christians said that Christ is Lord, listeners thought they were dangerous subversives. For if Christ was Lord, then Caesar isn’t.”
Just as we recognized the politically rebellious claim that God is the Father Almighty, so we must recognize the politically subversive claim that Jesus is our Christ, the anointed one, our Lord. For the title Lord, Kyrios, was claimed by the Roman Emperor Domitian late in the first century. As a church historian stated, “This claim meant that he was the supreme ruler and that no one could challenge or even rival his authority. His attitude led to the persecution of both Christians and Jews who insisted that God was the one true Lord, far above Domitian or any other ruler” (Justo Gonzales, The Apostles’ Creed for Today, p. 32).
Turning again to Bonhoeffer and the struggle in Germany during Hitler’s regime, we notice striking similarities. In the 1930s, most German Christian church leaders were lining up behind Hitler and saluting the Nazi forces as God’s instruments, God’s justice being employed in our world. They exalted the racially pure nation and saw Hitler’s reign as God’s will.
But there was another faith perspective taking shape, and in May of 1934, an assembly of 139 ministers, church members, and university professors bravely gathered to write a statement about what they believed, to give words and to take a stand on what it means to claim “I believe in Jesus Christ, God’s only Son, our Lord.” It was at that assembly that the Theological Declaration of Barmen was born — and this declaration is part of our PCUSA Book of Confessions, for we believe it guides us for faithful living.
Here is just one of the six statements they made: “In view of the errors of the present Reich Administration, we confess these truths: Jesus Christ is the one Word of God who we have to trust and obey in life and in death. We reject all other power and historic figures. We reject the false doctrine that there could be areas of our life in which we would not belong to Jesus Christ but to other lords.”
Many of the theologians and church leaders who penned those words were later arrested, and some, like Bonhoeffer, were executed for their complete commitment to living under the Lordship of Christ and not under their governing officials who tried to claim that same power. Like Paul, these theologians and church leaders were clear-eyed about the risks they were taking by making those claims. And yet, they stood firm, for they, like Paul, knew that “we cannot say Christ is Lord without reshuffling our priorities and looking with suspicion at all the world clings to as precious. Jesus came, not so we could feel different, but so we could be different” (James Howell, The Life We Claim: The Apostles’ Creed for Preaching, pp. 41–42).
When we make the claim “I believe in Jesus Christ, God’s only Son, our Lord,” we are rejecting every absolute nationalism and any other unconditional allegiance. But lest we think those temptations only happened back in the day of Paul and the Philippians, or in the 1930s in Germany, we must also consider what is going on in our country with the continuing rise of Christian nationalism. In January 2021, Christianity Today, a magazine not exactly known for its progressive religious outlook, featured a conversation between Professor Paul Miller, global media manager Morgan Lee, and editorial director Ted Olson about the danger of white Christian nationalism.
When Professor Miller was asked to define Christian nationalism, he said this:
“It idealizes and advocates a fusion of Christianity with American civic life. … Christian nationalism believes that the American nation is defined by Christianity and that the government should take steps to keep it that way to sustain and maintain our Christian heritage. It’s not merely an observation about American history. It is a prescription for what America should do in the future. We should sustain and continue our identity as a Christian nation. … It takes Christian symbols, rhetoric, and concepts and weaves it into a political ideology that in its ideal form is idolatrous.” (Morgan Lee, “Christian Nationalism Is Worse Than You Think,” Christianity Today, 13 January 2021).
He then went on to cite recent research in which the researchers found that “52 percent of all Americans are what they call ambassadors.” Then, Miller continued, “there are accommodators, people who are adjacent to Christian nationalism, tolerant of it, and accepting enough that they’re not going to get in the way. [In total,] 78 percent of self-identified evangelicals are either ambassadors or accommodators of Christian nationalism. It’s really important to recognize that distinction, by the way, that the ambassadors are a smaller group. They’re the hardcore ideologues who spend time developing the energy, thinking about it, praying about it, and advocating for it, writing their congressmen, and attending the riot.”
That picture is some of what we saw at the Capitol on January 6. When we saw crosses and pictures of Jesus amongst the other political signage, we were witnessing what Christian nationalism looks like and the damage it can do. And the threat of this idolatrous interpretation of our faith is why we must continue to claim and to live “I believe in Jesus Christ, God’s only Son, our Lord.”
We must keep that thick theological claim in the forefront of our minds as we go about our day-to-day lives, as we make our way to ballot boxes, as we have conversations with family and friends. For again, “we cannot say Christ is Lord without reshuffling our priorities and looking with suspicion at all the world clings to as precious. Jesus came, not so we could feel different, but so we could be different” (J. Howell).
And trust me — I know that being different might feel threatening sometimes. It might even be risky, even in our own nation in these highly politically charged days or in your own family. But as Bonhoeffer asked from his jail cell, “Who [is] Christ really, for us, today. What do we really believe? I mean, believe in such a way that we stake our lives on it?” I believe in Jesus Christ, we proclaim, God’s only Son, our Lord. The only one to whom we give our hearts and the totality of our lives. Amen.
Sermon © Fourth Presbyterian Church