Oak Chapel United Methodist Church

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All Christians baptize. All don’t agree on how or when, but all do it. Because Jesus said, “Except a man be born of water and the spirit, he cannot enter into the Kingdom of God.” And, when Christians baptize, they all use the same words: “I baptize thee in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.” Because Jesus commanded us, just before he left this earth, to go to all nations, teaching and baptizing “in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.” So we do it because we are told to, and we seek understanding.

Historically, Christian baptism goes all the way back to that day when Jesus was baptized by his odd-ball cousin John, in the waters of the River Jordan (the event we remember and celebrate this morning). The Gospel writers make it clear that all three persons of the Trinity were present that day: the Father (whose voice we hear from heaven), the Son (who is baptized), and the Spirit (who descends as a dove to identify the One who is marked and chosen.).

Two things are happening at the same time in this story. First, Jesus is kicking off his earthly ministry. He’s about thirty years old. Up ‘till now, as far as we know, he has lived comfortably sheltered in his parents’ home, mostly out of the public eye. His mother knew, of course, (had to know) that her son was a very special man of God. Apparently his cousin also knew. Jesus, himself, must have known that he was destined for something. But now, on this day, led presumably by some inner prompting, Jesus takes a fateful step. He chooses, with inexplicable courage, to give up his comfort, his privacy, and to submit himself to blistering temptations, to become homeless, and familylesss , and penniless, to suffer and to die. He yields himself up as an offering to God. He consents, as George Buttrick put it, to “walk a path awful and alone…” That’s story enough!

But there’s more on the stage here; a larger scene is being acted out just behind the curtain, and we catch glimpses of it It’s not just two men and a river and a life-altering decision, as momentous as that may be. Heaven is involved. John Wesley, in his commentary, reminds us that when the Holy Spirit descends upon Jesus at his baptism it is “a visible token of something else that is going on”, and this “something else, this other drama is part of what Wesley called “those secret operations of the blessed Spirit.” This event at the Jordan is part of holy history. A divine scheme is unfolding. It’s the opening act of God’s plan for saving his people. This is “curtain going up” on the drama of our saving.
(We should stop and remember that when we baptize someone here at our altar, a child or an adult, we understand that our rites and rituals are always “visible tokens of something else that is going on.” Jesus was declared God’s Son in his baptism; we are declared God’s children in ours. We believe that, when we baptize someone, a divine scheme is unfolding, and that this sacrament of ours is the opening act of God’s plan for that person’s salvation. A baptism is never the end of anything good; it’s always “curtain going up.”)

Presumably, most of us are baptized. What does that mean in a practical way? Two things. First, in line with John the Baptist’s understanding, it means that we fully accept (without reservation, or exception, or excuse) our own sinfulness. That is difficult for us, today, who are so good at pointing fingers. And it means that we (to use John’s word) repent, that is “turn around,” or “turn away.” (And even this is a selfish act. We do it, if we ever do, to protect ourselves from the ravages of sin. The Prodigal Son didn’t come home because he rationally decided his father’s way was best. He came back because he was hungry and had started to envy the pigs!) We suffer in sin. That’s a well- kept secret today. Sin does not make us happy, although we persist in thinking that it will. Sin makes people miserable, and leads to death – here and beyond.

True repentance is a soul-shattering experience. We don’t just say it, that we are sorry for our sins; in true repentance we feel it and mean it. I love the old rituals with their strong, honest words. In the old English prayer book, the worshippers say (before receiving Holy Communion) -- “we acknowledge and bewail our manifold sins and wickedness…the remembrance of them is grievous unto us, (and) the burden of them is intolerable.” When the burden of our sin (all our self-centeredness, our foolishness, our excuse making, our dodging God) -- when the burden of all that becomes intolerable, we come to be baptized (or to renew our baptisms.) And in baptism we recognize, not that we are no longer sinners, but that the power of sin to hurt us has been washed away. Baptism pulls sin’s teeth. Actually, of course, it’s God who does that. Baptism is a token of God’s grace. So, as baptized Christians, we have truly repented of our sin and turned away from all its harmful manifestations. That’s the front door of our faith. It gets us in off the porch. That was the Baptist’s understanding, and it was right as far as it went. But it was a religion of cold showers and root canals.

Jesus also preached repentance, but he added the good news of God’s grace. (That wasn’t John’s job, by the way. John’s assignment was to scare the bejeebers out of the people and, thus, ready them for Messiah.) Repentance, as genuine and heartfelt as it may be, is not enough -- and it’s not the whole story. Repentance is like cleaning out a dirty room, getting rid of – turning away from -- all those things in our lives that distract us and prevent us from knowing God. That needs to happen. But then we need to fill the room with new things, better things, beautiful things, if we are to live in it. Which Christ does. Paul said Christ brings “unsearchable riches.” Isaac Watts wrote,

The hill of Zion yields a thousand sacred sweets,
Before we reach the heavenly gates or walk the golden streets.

Millions have experienced the sweet life that Jesus brings. John Newton authored the all-time favorite hymn, “Amazing Grace.” Everyone knows his song, but very few know his story. Newton had been a slave trader, and a rascal and scoundrel of the worst sort. He had been a declared enemy of all forms of religion, actually leading his friends away from faith. But, half way through his life, God reached him (through Methodist preachers, by the way, especially George Whitfield). He was converted and, after much struggle and study (and after a terrible time finding a Anglican bishop willing to ordain someone with two serious flaws: that he has been a scoundrel and that he had been influenced by Methodists) he became a priest of the Church of England, in Olney (Olney, England). And Newton served the Lord, in Olney and London, in a remarkable ministry, preaching and writing hymns, for the rest of his life. At 82, just before he died, he said, “My memory is nearly gone, but I remember two things: that I am a great sinner, and that Christ is a great savior.” He wrote his own epitaph. It’s famous. It’s still there on his tombstone in Olney. People still come to read it. “John Newton, Clerk, once an infidel and libertine, a servant of slaves in Africa, was, by the rich mercy of our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ, preserved, pardoned and appointed to preach the faith he had long labored to destroy.” Once he had turned from his former ways, God did wonderful things for, and through, John Newton.
Jesus had to turn away from the comforts and security of home when he was baptized. We must turn away from our comfortable things if we are to follow him.

Like a good shepherd, he leads us through the valley of the shadow of death. (This world is “the valley of the shadow of death,” isn’t it?) But he gives us a great courage for the journey and a deep and lasting satisfaction that beggars description. It’s not available in stores. You can only learn about it by trying it. Let me commend to you my savior.