"Whose I am," says Paul, right in the teeth of the heathen sailors, right in the teeth of the stoical, skeptical centurion, right in the teeth of all men—I belong to God—Paul takes pride in that.
You notice that the very first word in his epistle to the Romans, after his own name, is "doulos"—"Paul, doulos," (slave); he glories in it.
The Romans fastened a little slip of brass on the ankle of the slave, and on his wrist; and on the slip of brass on the wrist was the name of the owner, and the word "slave" with it; and in the forum or in the market place, the slave with the glitter of that slip of brass, had to step aside, and the proud, haughty Roman drew in his toga as the slave went by: My slave, keep to thine own side of the pavement, please!
Ah, but Paul took a pride in the glitter of that piece of brass; it was his cherished honor. Paul prided himself, boasted himself, in being the slave of the Master. Do you?
Some of you take down the sleeve of your coat like this, and you say, "Now, thou little bracelet of slavery, I gave myself to the Lord last night; very well, but just be hidden for a little; for I cannot just show to all the fellows at present this little slip of brass; I know that I belong to the Lord, but I'll just put my cuff over thee, please."
Ah! that wretched cowardice! Why don't you bare your arm and say right out, "I belong to Christ; look at it—look at the slip of brass, dearer and better to me than a crown of diamonds or a scepter of gold." You belong to Christ, then glory in it.