How much do you want to be liked? What sort of things have you done in your life in an effort to be liked? Drove really fast? Made fun of, bullied or abused someone? Parroted the “popular” person? Did a crazy and maybe dangerous dare? Forsaken friendships with someone deemed uncool. Stole something? Pretended to like music you couldn’t stand? Drank? Smoked? Drank until you passed out? Ate a Tide pod or at least tried to? Went deep into debt? Tried to eat a spoonful of cinnamon? Gave up an important part of who you were or something that brought you joy because others thought it wasn’t cool? Change your appearance? Stare into a mirror desperate to just not be yourself but to be someone or some shape that fits in and that people hit life’s “Like Buttons” for. Truthfully. How much do we crave it? How much does the appearance of acceptance, no matter how fleeting, and the feeling of being liked figure into the daily decisions we make. If we feel we have it, what are we willing to do to keep it? What are we to do if we lose that feeling. We may look at the internet or TV and feel embarrassed for or feel a sense of dis-ease for or laugh out loud at and ridicule others that we might call desperate for attention, or foolish or an idiot for their efforts. Some have gotten fabulously wealthy making a public spectacle and hold up others for ridicule on reality talent shows. There’s no money in caring let downs or affirmations of effort. We daily participate, from the youngest of ages in a perverse economy of acceptance like it’s a thing that has to be in short supply. An economy that suggests that we must climb upward on the crushed dreams and spirits of others and that there is only so much room in Likeville and being accepted only means something if there are those who are on the outside. It’s an economy of scarcity, of no such thing as in unless there is an out or rich without poor or liked without hated or accepted without outcasts and misfits. It’s a killer cycle no less foolish than eating food wrapper and all, jumping off a house onto a frozen pool, or consuming laundry products and it has a negative impact and repercussions on those who yearn to feel a sense of self worth and acceptance. Some forms of depression, eating disorders, substance abuse, self harm and suicide and other deleterious thoughts and actions can be fruits of this poisonous tree. How much do we want to be liked and accepted? I believe with all of our hearts, and why shouldn’t we be? The problem and the wheels and cogs of the acceptance/rejection economy have been turning for a very, very long time and the myth of scarcity has been trumpeted through the ages. As times change our methods of inclusion and exclusion evolve along with the times. Now, it’s the internet with a ripe platform for stunting or simply trying to be noticed with its ever present like/dislike buttons and the ability to bully through comments with no repercussions. In January 2017 The New Statesman wrote an article on social media likes with one quote that seems to tell the story. “Likes are always an indicator of social standing, at my age,” says an anonymous 17-year-old survey respondent. “As someone who gets anxious and occasionally struggles with self-esteem, the amount of Likes on my posts can be both hugely uplifting or depressing.” It’s such a vicious cycle and I think that so often when we are not being judged we keep the wheels spinning by ourselves judging and excluding to make ourselves feel better or more secure or more in. How do we stop this cycle? Take a look at the Gospel for today. This is the very beginning of Mark. There’s not a birth narrative. No manger scene, shepherds or wisemen. This Gospel begins with the baptism of Jesus, the opening bracket for the entire Gospel. I learned a new thing this week. That’s always a good thing. As Jesus comes up out of the water he sees something very interesting happen. Now I have read this multiple times and have never noticed the wording here. The greek points to a pretty violent and eventful occurrence. Jesus did not see the heavens open but the heavens torn apart. I said that these words were an opening bracket for the entire Gospel of Mark because of this action. This is an opening bracket because near the end of the Gospel when Jesus breathed his last on the cross, the closing bracket falls. The thing that happens is that the veil covering the Holy of Holies, the Mercy Seat, the presence of God is torn in two, from top to bottom. That thick veil, with weaving representing the heavens, and two cherubim weaved into it is torn apart. This was a place that no one could enter, with the exception of the high priest on one day of the year. Jesus sees the heavens torn apart and the Spirit of God descend into him. Pastor David Lose speaks wonderfully to this moment. He writes, “Notice God’s words to Jesus. They are personal, poignant, and powerful. “You are my beloved son. With you I am well pleased.” Wrapped in these words of acceptance are the blessings of identity, worth, and unwavering regard. Jesus’ baptism isn’t preamble to all that comes later in his life, it’s the highpoint and climax of the story in a nutshell. Again and again, as Jesus casts out unclean spirits, heals the sick, feeds the hungry, and welcomes the outcast, he will only do to others what has already been done to him, telling them via word and deed that they, too, are beloved children of God with whom God is well pleased. And the darkest moment of the story when Jesus feels absolutely abandoned is followed immediately by the story of resurrection, where the messenger testifies that God has kept God’s baptismal promise and continues to accept and honor Jesus as God’s own beloved Son. So also, at our low moments, we might remember that the God who raised Jesus from the dead is the same one who promised in baptism to never abandon us and to love and accept us always and still as beloved children, even and especially when we have a hard time loving and accepting ourselves.” God’s big Like, God’s acceptance comes first. It’s grace upon grace. It comes in our baptism before we have a chance to try to earn it. It is because God first loves and accepts us as we are that God comes in the flesh and is killed on the cross because of the cycle we can’t seem to break. Yet God did not let that poison tree triumph. The Good news of the Gospel is that Christ was raised from the dead. Our mission then becomes turning outward, away from our own selfishness, away from a world view of Scarcity. God’s love is over abundant. The waters of baptism are a mighty unstoppable and undammable river that flows from the heart of God in which we can be propelled to lift up instead of tearing down, to empower instead of destroy. God’s acceptance and love are limitless and because of the Holy Spirit within us, ours can be too as well. How does this look in our modern world? I think George and Michael from Lost and Found address this very well in their song, “Baby”. Shaved head and her pierced nose, Big rotweillers and her tie-dyed clothes Dr. Martins with her biker tights Long black leggings on a hot summer night And nobody calls her baby. Nobody says “I love you so,” Nobody calls her baby
I guess she’ll never know His working boots and flannel shirts, His sympathies buried as deep as his hurts. Long lonely walks with nowhere to go, His only appointment’s with a tv show
And nobody calls him baby. Nobody says “I love you so,” Nobody calls him baby I guess he’ll never know. Eighty pounds, she’s hardly whole, Losing her body to gain some control.
Hours alone in a tanning salon, Trying a smaller and smaller size on. And nobody calls her baby, Nobody says “I love you so,” Nobody calls her baby I guess she’ll never know Pin-striped suits and wing-tipped shoes His lap-top computer and his Wall Street news He makes his plane and keeps his pace He hides his pain behind a poker face.And nobody calls him baby Nobody says, “I love you so,” Nobody calls him baby I guess he’ll never know. But somebody loves those babies. Somebody loves what we can’t see. And if somebody told them maybe. Those babies would be free.
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