Scripture
Transcript
Today is a special day in the Church. The Christmas season has come to a close, and we turn our attention from the birth to the life of Jesus.
On this first Sunday after the Epiphany, we celebrate his baptism, and with it, our own. We remember the voice which proclaimed him Beloved, and which loves us, too. We acknowledge the start of his formal ministry. We witness the presence of the Holy Spirit upon him.
And in many ways, it’s a simple story.
We start with John, Jesus’ cousin, and a charismatic preacher with many followers. He teaches basic care for our neighbours—share what you have, and don’t take more than your need. He calls this practice “repentance,” a change of the mind, a return, again and again, to the Law of God.
John invites people to be baptised, in order to mark this return. In other words, to make a public declaration of repentance as an incentive to stick to the promise. I will go to the gym more often if you come with you. I will love my neighbours better, and you can all hold me to it.
Now this all starts to sound very Messiah-like to the crowds. There’s this powerful presence. And John leads a mysterious life, and he keeps repeating this demand that people return, again and again, to the Law of God. So, perhaps, he is the one they’ve been waiting for.
But it’s not me, John says. I’m just here to prepare the way. No, the one who is coming will baptise not with water but with the Spirit. He will gather the food for the feast, and clear the farm for the next harvest.
And, indeed, soon enough the Messiah arrives.
Jesus comes with the crowds to be baptised alongside them—a strange sort of thing for the Son of God. And in this version from Luke, there’s not even an argument between him and John about whether it’s proper for him to be baptised at all. In fact, there’s no narrative of the baptism itself. All we hear is that it happened, and Jesus is now praying.
And as he does, the heavens open. The Holy Spirit takes incarnate form just like the Son has done, descending as a physical dove upon this human while a voice calls out and says, “You are my Son, the Beloved; with you I am well pleased.”
And that’s the whole story. Jesus is baptised, anointed by God, and ready to begin his ministry.
…
As unique as he is, Jesus’ baptism is, in many ways, just like our own.
We may not have seen doves descending or heard a voice from heaven—
I mean, maybe you did. I didn’t.—
but each of us went to the water surrounded by our communities. Each of us heard the promise that we, too, are loved by God and children of God. And we, or our parents or sponsors for us, made a promise in return: to love God and our neighbours and ourselves.
It’s a simple story. And yet there’s so much to it.
In some ways, I think it’s the hardest part of the Christian faith to trust. To truly believe that each and every one of us is a child of God.
There are some days we wake up and we don’t necessarily trust ourselves. There are some days we make egregious mistakes, and we feel so much shame it’s hard to remember that God created us.
So many of us in this world grow up in environments where people tell us that we are not good enough. We don’t work hard enough. We don’t look right enough. We don’t act right enough. We don’t have enough money. We don’t have enough friends, enough power.
It’s hard to remember sometimes that we are all truly loved by God.
And then there’s that other piece of it, right? Jesus calls us to love our enemies as ourselves, to pray even for the ones who persecute us because they, too, are children of God.
It’s not easy to remember that the person bullying you at school is a child of God. It’s not easy to remember that the person who stole your wallet on the street is a child of God. It’s not easy to read the news of terrorist attacks and remember that the people who did them are children of God.
It’s that strange line that we walk, right? We don’t have to condone violence to ask what leads people to it. We don’t have to agree with what people do with their pain to seek to understand it. Because, no matter what harm has been caused, these people, too, are children of God.
This is one of the hardest things about the Christian faith.
But like I said, it’s not always the people outside of our own heads. Things like mental illness make it hard to believe ourselves are children of God.
You might look in the mirror and see a different person than is real, start to see all the flaws in your face, your body, but your body is made by God. Depression might eat away at your mind, tell you you are worthless, but you are made by God. You are loved by God.
…
There’s this book series I read called the Stormlight Archive—
which, anyone who has heard me talk about the Stormlight Archive may be surprised it took me this long to mention it in a sermon, but—
There’s this series of oaths that people make. It’s all tied to the magic system, and it’s a very long story. But what I want to get to here is one of the promises people make, is:
I will protect those who cannot protect themselves.
I will protect even those I hate, so long as it is right.
And I will protect myself, so that I can continue protecting others.
This is the call of Christian life: to walk alongside one another, to stand up for the people who cannot stand up for themselves.
This whole story starts—we missed it in the lectionary passage, but this whole story starts with John coming out and saying: if you have two coats, give one to the person who has none. If you have extra money, give it away to the person who has none. Protect those who cannot protect themselves.
Remember that every single person is a child of God. Stand up for their thriving, for their life, for their life. Even when they are your enemies. Even when your enemy is your own mind.
And protect yourself, too. Rest enough. Take time to read, to spend time with family and friends. Lean on people when you need help. Walk away when the people around you are not healthy for you. Seek out people who will affirm that you are, indeed, loved.
Because when you do, you will be filled enough to step out into the world and to fill others.
Today we celebrate the Baptism of the Lord. We remember our own baptisms, and this promise and this call that we are children of God, and everyone else is too—on the days that that’s easy, and on the days that that is hard.
So I invite you as we go through the liturgy for this day to remember your baptisms. To remember this call. And to go forth each and every day, remembering that no matter what else you may hear in this world:
You are good.
You are enough.
You are loved.
You are a child of God.
Amen.