Scripture shapes individuals, and it also shapes Christian

community, the church. Paul writes, “There are many

members yet one body.” He offers us a vision of the

church that, like a human body, is made up of many parts,

each with different form and function, each with different

placement and purpose, each worthy on its own and

each vital to the whole.

When I occasionally get asked about how I ended up in

ministry, the truest answer is this: I was baptized at First

Presbyterian Church of Ocala, Florida, and the body of

Christ at this church, my home church, was faithful to the

promises they made at my baptism.

You know, that question we answer each and every time

we witness a baptism right here on these chancel steps:

“Do we, as members of the church of Jesus Christ and

representatives of this congregation, promise to guide

and nurture this child by word and deed, with love and

prayer, encouraging her to know and follow Christ and to

be a faithful member of the church?”

This question gets asked at every baptism at every

Presbyterian church, and it is never just a formality. On the

day of my baptism, the saints at First Presbyterian Church

of Ocala were asked this very question and they said yes.

I have no memory of this, I was just a baby — but they

said yes, and they meant it.

They guided and nurtured me, teaching me the faith in

Sunday School and summers of VBS. I knew their love in

hugs and smiles, and through the faces that would beam

at me as I sang in the children’s choir. They taught me the

sweetness of Christian community through bread and

juice served in tiny little cups during communion, and

through the other sacred feast, donuts and juice during

coffee hour.

As a very young child and as I grew, I knew I was safe at

church. I knew I was loved by all of these people, some of

whom I knew, some of whom I didn’t. But they knew me,

and through their love I came to know that God loved me.

At my baptism, they said yes, and they meant it. What a gift.

There’s a special place in heaven for youth leaders, I know

that now. As a middle schooler and high schooler I loved

going to youth group and being with my friends, but it

wasn’t only about being with my peers. The adult leaders

made youth group the fun, safe, joyful place that it was. I

think of people like Shannon, Rod and Linda, Darrel, Rusty,

Lindsay, and others who gave of their time faithfully every

week to come and hang out with a bunch of middle and

high schoolers. They were busy people. Most of them had

jobs. But they regularly spent hours of their time with us,

they took us on youth retreats and mission trips, they gave

of their time so that we had a consistent place to come

where we knew we were loved by God and by them.

Because of those youth leaders, youth group was a

place of refuge in some obvious ways, as middle and

high schoolers dealing with the pressures of the teenage

years and in some not-so-obvious ways. There were

those among us who weren’t so sure about our faith

but came every week because it was a solid meal and

a place of physical safety. There were those among us

who didn’t have safe adults at home, or who were living

in households in the grips of addiction. There were those

among us struggling with mental health issues, with

depression, with eating disorders.

I now know enough to know that these kids weren’t just in

my youth group; they’re in every youth group. God bless

the people who give of their time to be a consistent, loving

presence in the lives of our children. It makes a difference.

It is the promises of baptism lived out. It is Christ’s body

alive, a community of love, witness, and mutual care.

My home church’s faithfulness in the promises that they

made at my baptism taught me what it means to be

church and inspired in me a deep belief in what Christ’s

body, the church, can do and be in the world.

In Paul’s first letter to the Corinthians, we hear good news

for each one of us: that through baptism, we are made

members of one body. It’s not through a test, or how

worthy or good we are. Through baptism, we are made

members of one body, Christ’s body. Each part different,

each part necessary. Each unique and yet part of a

magnificent whole.

Episcopal priest Dr. Raewynne Whiteley writes,

“We come to the water of baptism as individuals,

independent and relatively self-contained. We come

[away from] that water changed. Our identity is no

longer solitary; we can no longer truly be known without

reference to that community into which we have been

incorporated: the body of Christ, the church. After

baptism, we are more than just ourselves; we are by

definition beings-in-relationship.”

But there is a tension here. Dr. Whiteley continues, “As

far as 1 Corinthians is concerned, there is no belonging

without participating. That abrogates the nature of the

body…belonging is not a one-sided affair. We are given

the gift of belonging at baptism, but we are also signing

up for the responsibility of functioning as part of the body

of Christ” (281).

Belonging is a gift. And it is also a responsibility.

Paul’s metaphor of the one body is simple, but we all

know there is nothing simple about the kind of belonging

he describes.

This type of belonging asks us to be who we are, because

whether we are a foot or an ear or a nose, the body needs

us to be that thing. There is such vulnerability in being

ourselves, and in sharing our truest and deepest selves

with one another and with the world.

The kind of belonging Paul describes asks us to care for

and honor other members: their being, their contributions,

and their needs. This might mean re-examining long-held

beliefs and prejudices. It might mean creating space for

difference, growing in humility, and turning away from the

desire to know it all or to be right.

This type of belonging asks us to care for and honor the

whole: giving what we are able to contribute, prioritizing

the body’s health, wholeness, and witness above our

personal priorities, desires, and goals. Sacrificing our time.

Giving of our resources.

Through baptism, God gives us the gift of belonging. Our

belonging to the body of Christ never changes and can

never be taken away. Even if we move away or change

congregations, we belong to the body of Christ.

What can change and hopefully does change is our own

understanding of our belonging, and the way we engage

our belonging.

I’ll share one way this has evolved in my life:

As a young child at First Presbyterian of Ocala, I was

taught the importance of generosity. In fact there was one

Sunday that the pastor of my childhood, Dr. Ray Ruark, sat

all of us children down on the chancel steps. He held up

a dollar and taught us that we should give part of every

dollar to the church. This was what it meant to show our

gratitude to God, and to be part of God’s work through

the church. I took the lesson quite literally and proceeded

to go home, pull the few dollar bills out of my piggy bank,

and rip a piece off of each one to give to the church.

I understood that giving was good, and over the

years, I would bring some money to church to place

in the offering plate. But my understanding of my own

belonging and my responsibility to the community would

continue to grow.

I was now a young adult, in my early twenties. The pastor

of my childhood had retired several years before and we

had a new pastor, Dr. Raymond Guterman. By now I had

sensed God calling me to ministry and I was preparing to

go to seminary. Our new pastor, Dr. Guterman, invited me

to lunch so that we could get to know each other a bit. In

that conversation he named my home church’s promise

to pray for me, and their desire to tangibly support my

seminary education. In that spirit he shared the news that

the Session had voted to send me a $100 check each

month to be used for whatever I needed: books, my cell

phone bill, groceries. They knew seminary was expensive

and they wanted to help lighten the load.

I was grateful, although not surprised, at the generosity

of my home church and their desire to keep fulfilling their

baptismal promises to me.

What was a little surprising was what came next. Dr.

Guterman continued, “Now Madison, I know this might

sound a little funny to you, but I would like to make a

request. We’re sending you this money each month,

and I’m going to ask that you send some back, even if

it’s just $10. It’s important for you and important for us

to know that we are supporting each other in ministry.

We’re invested in your success and your preparation for

ministry, and it will mean a lot for folks here in Ocala to

know that you are invested in our ministry.”

This is not exactly how I expected the conversation to

go, and while I didn’t say this to him, I did think it was a

little silly for them to send me a $100 check only for me to

send them back a $10 check – couldn’t they just send me

a check for $90 and we could call it a day? But over time

I came to see the brilliance and the deep faithfulness in

his words.

Here’s what happened: Every month during my three

years at Louisville Seminary, First Presbyterian Church

of Ocala would send me a check for $100. And because I

didn’t trust myself to write and mail a check every month,

I set up a $10 monthly autopay to first Presbyterian

Church of Ocala. Even though I wasn’t physically

touching it, that simple practice, and that small amount

of money, gave my gratitude somewhere to go. I’d see the

$10 debit come up on my checking account statement

and I’d be reminded from across the miles, “I belong to

those people, and they belong to me.” I’d think about their

ministries — ministries that I had personally witnessed,

participated in, and benefited from — and I’d feel the joy

of knowing the good things I was supporting. On good

days, I’d be nudged to pray for them. On hard days, I’d be

reminded of my connection to this group of people who

believed in me and sent me with their blessing.

I had belonged to the church my whole life and only then

did I understand that real belonging costs something.

Not in the way of a cost of admission, and not always

in the sense of money. Belonging means participating.

Dr. Guterman taught me that I belonged to the body

of Christ at First Presbyterian of Ocala even if I wasn’t

physically there. He taught me that they needed me, that

the church couldn’t faithfully do their ministry without

me. He opened the door for me to engage in the spiritual

practice of giving in a way that I had never done before. I

was no longer giving just when I happened to be sitting

in church and happened to have a few dollars to place in

the offering plate. Now I was giving like it mattered. On a

schedule! It was only $10, but it was what I could spare

at the time, and I continue to learn the immeasurable

spiritual value of that practice and the seeds that Dr.

Guterman planted at lunch that day.

Through baptism, we belong to the body of Christ. This

is a gift we are given, and a responsibility we share. By

the grace of God, our understanding of that gift and

responsibility continues to grow and evolve.

One day several years ago I was going over our family

budget ,and I had a sudden realization. By this time, I

had shifted my giving from First Presbyterian of Ocala

here to Second, and I had worked over the years to

steadily increase my monthly giving as I was able. On

this particular day, several years ago, the numbers on

the spreadsheet jumped out at me in way that I couldn’t

unsee: our family was spending more on lawncare than

we were giving to the church!

This hit me as a sort of spiritual crisis: didn’t I care more

about Christ’s mission in this place than about the

mulching of my flower beds?!

At that stage in my journey of faith, I could see clearly

that my priorities were out of line. Our family budget

wasn’t telling the right story. We weren’t going to give up

caring for our yard, but we needed to make some shifts

to our overall budget so that the allocation of our family’s

resources better reflected the commitment of our faith.

By God’s grace, my understanding of belonging had

evolved. My understanding of what it means to be

responsible for and to Christ’s body, the church had

grown, and it continues to grow.

I wonder: What does it mean to you to belong to the

body of Christ, and to the congregation of Second

Presbyterian Church?

In what ways do you experience the joy of belonging? What

kind of responsibility do you feel to and for this community?

Are you an ear? A hand? A foot? How can we better see

and celebrate you in your ear-ness, or your foot-ness? What

did being a hand mean to you 10 years ago, 5 years ago –

what does it mean now? What might it mean in the future?

I shared with you my own journey around the spiritual

practice of giving, and how that has been a helpful lens

for me to understand the evolution of my own belonging.

But there are many other measures.

Paul writes, “If one member suffers, all suffer together with

it; if one member is honored, all rejoice together with it.”

One question we might ask ourselves is, “To what extent

am I aware of the sufferings and the joys of others in my

church family?” Or, “How much are others aware of my

sufferings and joys?” If the answer is ‘not very,’ perhaps

this is an invitation to pursue greater connection.

Another question we might ask ourselves is, “When is

the last time another member of the body taught me

something new, or changed my mind about something?”

“Which members of the body have we intentionally or

unintentionally dishonored or excluded?”

“How can I contribute to the health and wholeness of

Christ’s body?”

Friends, know this: through your baptism, you belong. You,

in all your uniqueness and imperfection, in all your quirks

and gifts, you belong to Christ’s body. You are needed

within Christ’s body. We are Christ’s body, together.

Let us receive that gift with thanksgiving, and let us

feel the joyful weight of our own calling, of our own

participation in the body, in and through Christ, so that

our life together will make Christ visible for one another

and the world. Amen.