“So, you also must consider yourselves dead to sin and alive to God in Christ Jesus.” This is a bold and defining statement by Paul. It is a statement which challenges how you, as the children of God, see yourselves. And that, it turns out, is a tricky thing. It is not always easy to see yourself through the eyes of another, to believe you are what they say you are. Yet, we want to know who we are. We want to know our place in this world. We want to have a clear understanding of our own identity. But often, when we sit alone, as we are caught up in our heads, replaying scenes of our life, decisions we have made, regrets we cannot undo, and our relationships with family and friends, we can easily find ourselves in a place of doubt and confusion about who we are and what we mean to even the closest people in our lives. Suddenly, nothing seems stable. Nothing is permanent. Our identity, though it is crucial for us to know, often remains elusive.

I think great art taps into our desire to know ourselves. It is not necessarily the purpose of all art, but we use it that way. Now, I do not regularly go to art museums, but this last summer, my wife and I were able to go to the Biennale in Venice. We spent a day wandering through the various galleries without any idea of the art featured or even the theme. And while much of it I passed by without a second thought, a few pieces always catch you. It touches something deep within. It tells you something about yourself, your wonders, your longing, your regret, and your hope. The same thing happens when we listen to music, read poetry, or watch a movie. Something strikes us which causes us to contemplate the heart and ourselves. For a moment, we better understand who we are. Perhaps it gives words to the longing we struggle to understand or provides us with an image we can hold on to that inspires and guides us.

However, for you, for the Christian, a big part of understanding who you are, understanding your place in this world, is not rooted in your inward quest for self-actualization, but in the proclamation of the Word of God. And the most concrete moment when the Word of God does this is in the Sacrament of Holy Baptism. There, in a tangible way, the Word of God connected to the water and bound to the promises of our Lord says something about who you are. A proclamation is made about your identity. That is, after all, the nature of a sacrament. It is the promise of God’s grace attached to a physical thing. Baptism operates, therefore, as the foundation for who you are. No matter your age, gender, or race, no matter your wealth, social status, or ethnicity, you are, before our God, first and foremost, the baptized. God elects you to be His own precious possession.

In his letter to the church in Rome, Saint Paul shockingly argued that God gave His Law not to save us by the Law, but to increase our sins. He stops any thoughts of finding our identity in our own works, wisdom, or sense of self-righteousness. Instead, he declares that where our sin increased, then grace abounded all the more. Grace alone, that gift of God, is the object of our hope and reconciliation with the Father. And here, anticipating our question about who we are and how we then live, he masterfully directs us back to the gift of baptism. He says, “What shall we say then? Are we to continue in sin that grace may abound? By no means! How can we who died to sin still live in it? Do you not know that all of us who have been baptized into Christ Jesus were baptized into His death? We were buried therefore with Him by baptism into death, in order that, just as Christ was raised from the dead by the glory of the Father, we too might walk in newness of life.” Your life is to be lived in this new reality of your baptism.

So, what is this gift of baptism? Oh, I know you know the rite of baptism; you have witnessed it time and again as you have come to church. Whether a baby or an adult, you have seen the water poured over the head and the words commanded by our Lord, “I baptize you in the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit.” But Paul tells us this simple action is when we are united to our Lord, united, he says, in Jesus’ death. As Paul says, “If we have been united with Him in a death like His, we shall certainly be united with Him in a resurrection like His.” That death He died, that sacrifice, is for the sins of the world, for your sins. At the baptism of our Lord, we find the Son of God entering into the Jordan River, where John has been baptizing for repentance, as a call to turn from sin and back to God. As Jesus enters those waters, He enters to declare that He will repent, be the scapegoat, and bear the sin. He is the perfect penitent, and He will die because of them. And that action all those years ago is made yours in your baptism.

Baptism, your baptism, is to die with Christ. Here, you are crucified. Your “old self,” as Paul says, is put to death. An old friend of mine used to say that baptism is essentially a violent act, a death and rebirth. My wife loves it when infants cry during a baptism, not that I want them to cry. I am usually doing what I can to try and comfort the little sinner when I hold them. But the crying can help us remember what is actually happening, a glimpse at the spiritual reality taking place in such a simple act. This gift declares that you cannot, by your own reason or strength, be righteous before God. You cannot know enough, be faithful enough, and work hard enough to gain the blessing of eternal Paradise. No, you need to die. After all, the wages of sin is death. But here in these waters, God graciously kills you in the death of His Son. You die so you might live. Again, Paul says, “For one who has died has been set free from sin.”

These days, the question of identity has reached new heights. Perhaps it is due to social media or scientific advances with everything from hormone therapy to plastic surgery, but our world is longing to know who they are. People seem to struggle with understanding not just things like sexual attraction but even their gender. If you have been paying attention, it is beyond just switching from he/him pronouns to she/her or vice versa. There is a massive array of pronouns thrown around. People regularly identify themselves primarily by race, sexual preference, or political leanings. It may be easy to ignore this phenomenon or belittle it, but it speaks to a real crisis of identity. Our feelings are given transcendent weight, and people get lost in a sea of vague and shifting options. This ought to be a call for compassion. Perhaps the solution, or at least the beginning of hope, is not found in how people identify themselves, but in how God identifies them.

Compassion is found in God’s proclamation. There is hope, assurance, and confidence in a new life which rests in the gift of our Lord. All the gifts of Calvary, the perfect payment for sin, the promise of healing, and eternal rest are united with you in baptism. This does not remove you from pain and struggle, it does not stop all the doubts and confusion, but it promises there is One who is greater than all this, One beyond the whims of a shifting and crumbling world who has a hold of you and will, in the end, deliver you from it all. There is a day to come when you will know for sure who you are. You will see yourself as your God sees you. For on that day, you will see the righteous garments of Christ that cover you and mark you as a child of God. You will see yourself as whole and no longer torn, eternally healed and finally at rest.

And while we wait, as we struggle through our days, remember the grace of your God. Remember His sacrifice and know you are forgiven. Remember, you are baptized. “So, you also must consider yourselves dead to sin and alive to God in Christ Jesus.”