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All God’s Children

Peter Schellhase • May 5, 2024

Sermon for Sunday, May 5, 2025

How do we know who is a child of God? The apostle John sets out a pretty simple test: Those who are children of God can be identified because they believe that Jesus is the Christ, that is, the Messiah, the Son of God. Further proof is found in the love that God’s children have for one another. Or to put it in negative terms, those are not God’s children who do not believe that Jesus is the Christ, and do not bear love for his family, the Church.


Christianity is thus both radically inclusive and starkly exclusive. For those who want to belong, nothing about who they are, or where they come from, or who their parents are, or what they have done, can keep them out of the kingdom of heaven.


On the other hand, for those who do not believe in Christ nor love his family, it doesn’t matter who they are, how much money they have, how they were raised, how blameless their conduct. They lack the one thing necessary.


In the early chapters of Acts, the apostle Peter encounters a group of God-fearing Gentiles, non-Jews, and at first he is not sure what to do. You may have heard the story. He is in Joppa, staying with a fellow Jewish believer, Simon the Tanner, praying on the roof while the men who have come from Cornelius’s house wait for him below. He sees a vision of a sheet being let down from heaven by its four corners. Within the sheet are all kinds of animals which were forbidden to the Jews to eat or even touch. They were unclean. A voice from heaven instructs him: “Rise, Peter, kill and eat.” Peter objects. All his life he has kept the purity laws. “I have never eaten anything unclean,” he says. The voice responds: “What God has made clean, do not call common.” The instruction is repeated three times, and then the vision recedes.


Peter now understands that God is not telling him to change his dietary habits. Rather, the spiritual interpretation of this vision is that the gospel of Jesus is to be preached to all people without distinction between Jew and non-Jew. So he preaches, and this is where the story picks up in this morning’s first lesson. As soon as the people hear the word of Christ, they believe and are filled with the Holy Spirit and begin to praise God in other languages, just as the Jewish disciples of Jesus had done when the Spirit descended upon them at Pentecost. So God distributes his gifts to these new Gentile children the same as to the children of Abraham who believed. Seeing this, Peter calls for their immediate baptism, saying to the Jews who have come with him and observed the miracle, “Can any one forbid water for baptizing these people who have received the Holy Spirit just as we have?”


“Every one who believes that Jesus is the Christ is a child of God, and every one who loves the parent loves the child.” If we love God, we must also love his children, and everyone who believes in Jesus is a child of God.


“And the Spirit is the one that testifies, for the Spirit is truth. There are three witnesses, the Spirit, the water, and the blood, and these three agree.”


All of these three witnesses point us to Christ. The Spirit descends on Christ at the moment of his baptism. The same Spirit descends on his brethren in the upper room, and again on those of Cornelius’s household. Water, too, is involved, baptism being the sacrament of the new birth in Christ. And the blood of Christ, poured out for our sins, now unites the whole church as “one blood” though called from many different nations and peoples.


I trust that so far you have been mostly nodding along. The message of these scriptures seems to be, at least on the surface, compatible with the egalitarian prejudices of our age. These prejudices, expressed in slogans like “love is love,” which tend to deny that different kinds of things can be distinguished from one another, including ultimately a difference between right and wrong, between the way that leads to life and the many ways that lead away from God toward death.


The gospel is not about blurring lines, abolishing boundaries, erasing distinctions, wiping away the horizon. The Gospel is about the reconciliation between God and man through Christ. This relationship restored is a source of unity that does not destroy, yet is, both stronger and deeper than other human differences.


The gospel of Christ not only opposes but overcomes prejudices both ancient and modern; John says that “this is the victory that overcomes the world, our faith.” Not faith as an abstract, a disposition toward belief in anything, but specifically faith in Christ. “Who is it that overcomes the world but he who believes that Jesus is the Son of God?”


Faith in Christ is thus the universal inheritance of all God’s children, and the rule by which they (hopefully we) are distinguished from all that opposes Christ and his gospel. Peter had to see that Jew and Gentile made no difference to God, but only belief in Jesus Christ. May our vision in these latter days be so clear. Thanks be to God.


+ In nomine Patri . . .

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“Again the Lord spoke to Ahaz, saying, ‘Ask a sign of the LORD your God; let it be as deep as hell, or high as heaven.’ But Ahaz said, ‘I will not ask, and I will not put the LORD to the test.’” In those days the southern kingdom of Judah was besieged: the northern kingdom of Israel was in league with the Assyrian king, and their joint forces had reached the gates of Jerusalem. The prophet Isaiah had gone to Ahaz, king of Judah, with God’s reassurance that he was not idle in Judah’s defense; that the enemies of Jerusalem would not prevail and would themselves be judged, cast down. Ahaz, as we see, was unwilling to take God at his word; to ask a sign, any sign, that he would deliver them. Why? Ahaz phrases his refusal in what may sound like pious terms. After all, in Deuteronomy 6, Moses warns, “Do not put the LORD your God to the test, as you did at Massah,” referring to a memorable episode of unbelief during Israel’s wandering in the desert. Jesus himself quotes this injunction when he is tempted by the devil. But Ahaz misinterpreted and misapplied it. He refused to ‘test’ God—yet not in faith. God invited him to ask for a sign, and put no boundaries on the sign. Ahaz was unmanned with fear because of the army outside the walls, but no longer believed in the power of God to save. His refusal was the counsel of despair. The Psalmist gives us another response in similar situations. He acknowledges the providence of God in the trials of his chosen people, yet calls on God for salvation. “You have made us the derision of our neighbors, and our enemies laugh us to scorn,” and yet, “Restore us, O LORD God of hosts; show us the light of your countenance, and we shall be saved.” The Psalmist waits and hopes for God to act. God offered Ahaz light and hope in the darkest hour, life snatched from the jaws of death. “Ask a sign of the LORD your God, be it as deep as hell, as high as heaven.” As it says elsewhere, God’s throne is in heaven, he beholds all the dwellers upon earth” (Ps. 11), and Isaiah later wrote, “Behold, the LORD’s hand is not shortened that it cannot save, nor his ear heavy that it cannot hear.” Not God’s inabilities, but your inquities, have made a separation between you and your God, and your sins have his his face from you, that he will not hear.” Ahaz, not God, was being tested, to see if he would turn to God in his time of need. In short, he failed the test. And yet, as Isaiah goes on to describe, God promises to accomplish a deliverance greater than Ahaz could imagine, with or without the king’s cooperation. “He saw that there was no man, and wondered that there was no one to intercede: then his own arm brought him salvation, and his righteousness upheld him.” “The LORD himself will give you a sign,” and this sign is both as high as heaven and as deep as hell, “for behold, the virgin shall conceive and bear a son, and shall call his name Immanuel.” After all human strength, all human goodness, all human courage and hope have failed, God reveals his power paradoxically, in human weakness: a young woman and her infant Son: a son whose name, Immanuel, means “God with us,” and a woman who through her free act of faith and obedience becomes the Mother of God. This is a sign, and not only a symbol but a reality that encompasses everything. It means the salvation of the whole world—and salvation offered to each one of us—a sign that comes to us from highest heaven and fathoms even the depths of hell. So in these two individuals we have the two ways; the way of life and the way of death; the broad and easy way that leads to destruction and the narrow way that leads to salvation. The Blessed Virgin Mary is our preeminent icon of this way of life—“be it unto me according to thy word”—and Ahaz, not that Scripture lacks a sufficient number of such examples, reminds us today of the fate of those who refuse to put their hope in God. Ahaz misses out on much more than a way out of his present difficulty. He misses out on being a part of God’s plan of salvation. The Christian doctrine of hell, so much a part of Jesus’s own teaching, is not something we can set aside, even in the context of the universal and free offer of salvation in Jesus Christ. A great living theologian wrote this about it: “Christ . . . descends into hell and suffers . . . but he does not, for all that, treat man as an immature being deprived in the final analysis of any responsibility for his own destiny. Heaven reposes upon freedom, and so leaves to the damned the right to will their own damnation. The specificity of Christianity is shown in this conviction of the greatness of man. Human life is fully serious.” (J. Ratzinger, Eschatology, p. 216) Next Sunday is Christmas. It’s easy to forget, in all the sentimentality of the season, mangers and mistletoe, that we rejoice at Christmas because God has done something utterly serious, even catastrophic, for our sake. The world in its present form will not survive the impact of this salvation; our own lives, though we are saved, will be utterly changed. Come, Lord Jesus, and make perfect our will.
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