Hymn of Joy *Love Divine, All Love Excelling* Witness of Scripture: Galatians 3: 23-29 Anthem *Give Me Jesus* Douglas E. Wagner. Chancel Choir Sermon *A Determinative Step* Steve Graham
Recorded on June 22, 2025
A Determinative Step
Celebrating the Good News with the Beloved Community
First Christian Church, Norman, Oklahoma
Rev. Dr. Stephen D. Graham
June 22, 2025
Galatians 3:23-29
When our son Jeff began talking with us about his baptism, the conversation started one Sunday in the middle of the hymn of response. He was seated on the front row, just an arm’s length away. I was trying to remain attentive to the congregation, but Jeff persistently sought my eye. I assumed he wanted to discuss our afternoon plans. Between verses, Jeff became vocal—his small voice just loud enough for many to hear: “Dad! Dad!” I silently prayed for someone to call timeout out for a family conference. Undeterred, Jeff got straight to the point: “Dad! I’m coming down!” I stepped close enough to quietly say, “We’ll talk about this at home.” That moment sparked a series of conversations about baptism—what Jeff called “this big step in life.” His readiness became clear when he asked, “Dad, what I want to know is—are there going to be other steps?” There would be, of course, one step and then another. But this step into the baptismal waters would be determinative for all the others.
Paul describes those who enter these waters as “children of God through faith in Christ Jesus” (Galatians 3:26). It is a time when being “all wet” is entirely appropriate. For like every drop of water in baptism, “love covers a multitude of sins.” In that sacred act, we give all that we know of ourselves to all that we know of God. But what happens when the water dries? Paul reassures us: our identity is secure. We are called to be different. As we grow in faith, we take further steps—clothing ourselves in Christ (Galatians 3:27). Our faith is not only about what we release but also about what we embrace. I Peter encourages us to “clothe ourselves in humility” (5:5)—perhaps the hardest step of all. To put on Christ means preparing for both speed and endurance. It means living with balance. The cross reminds us daily of this call: the horizontal beam speaks to our worldly duties—jobs, families, responsibilities. The vertical beam points to our spiritual identity—connecting with what is eternal. We fall into spiritual error when we lean too far in one direction. Robert Johnson, in *Balancing Heaven and Earth*, says heresy is the dislocation of our spiritual center of gravity. The early church struggled with heresies about Christ’s nature—was he divine or human? The truth lies in the both/and: Christ was fully divine and fully human. This paradox provides the balance we need for our journey. We are called to draw near to God while also remaining deeply engaged with people—bringing the two closer together. Saint Teresa of Avila was known for her ecstatic visions. Some believed she had a direct line to heaven. But one day, someone observed that she never had a vision while cooking—and joked that perhaps she could speak to God and still avoid burning the stew. That earthy insight reminds us that even the most spiritual among us must remain grounded. A faith that lifts us away from the world is no faith at all. True
faith walks the middle way—the “razor’s edge.” A mature believer is not someone who avoids life’s dilemmas but one who bravely sits in the middle of them, trusting that grace will see them through. I get wary when someone insists that everything in life is either/or. We live in a both/and world. And the church—if it is to be the Church of Jesus Christ—must reflect this holy tension. Paul challenges the Galatians to take steps of radical acceptance. “There is no longer Jew or Greek, slave or free, male and female, for you are all one in Christ Jesus” (Galatians 3:28). The gospel is not a secret to be guarded but a grace to be shared. Years ago, a friend shared a poem with me—a vision for the kind of church we are called to become: *The Church of My Dreams* The church of the warm heart and the open mind, and the always adventurous spirit. This is the church of my dreams. The church that cares, that heals hurt lives, That comforts old people and challenges the youth with the gospel for their world. This is the church of my dreams. The church that knows no division of culture or class or race, no frontiers, geographical or social, The church that inquires as well as affirms, that looks forward as well as backward. This is the church of my dreams. The church of the Master, The church of the people, High as the call of Jesus, low as the humblest human.
This is the church of my dreams. A working church, A worshipping church, A winsome church, That interprets the truth in light of the Truth. This is the church of my dreams. A church that inspires courage for this life and hope for the life to come, A church of all good people, and a church for people not yet good. This is the church of my dreams. The church of the living God, The church of God’s living people. As followers of Christ, we are called to place ourselves on the path toward big things—the things of which real living consists. Today, global poverty is a big thing. So is preserving our planet, preventing violence, and resisting the illusion that we can live as though tomorrow doesn’t matter. Who among us is bold enough to love the whole world? So it is, after all, about this big step in life. On the night Jesus shared the Last Supper, one of his deepest desires was unity. “Everyone will know you are my disciples,” he said, “if you love one another.” He wanted his followers to take steps of commitment toward one another as a visible sign of their love for God. To love one another—this is our most determinative step.