Into What Then Were You Baptized

Scripture Lessons: Genesis 1: 1-5 and Mark 1: 4-11 Sermon Title: Into What Then Were You Baptized Preached on January 7, 2018 Some would say that the hardest words to believe in the Bible are those in our first Scripture Lesson: “In the beginning when God created the heavens and the earth, the earth was a formless void and darkness covered the face of the deep… Then God said, “Let there be light.” Science tells us a story about a big bang and an ever-expanding universe, survival of the fittest, natural selection, and for generations now, it’s as though faith and science have been battling it out for a right to the truth. Like me you might say that this is no either or, but maybe you’ve had an argument with your friends about this. Some friend who sees the first two chapters of Genesis as the great stumbling block that keeps them from faith in God – but I say these words in Genesis are no stumbling block. They don’t need to compete with the words of science, because science can tell us things that religion never will, and Scripture provides insights that science cannot, but beyond that, these from Genesis aren’t the hardest words to believe in Scripture anyway. No. If you get right down to it then you know that most people wrestle with not the words of our first scripture lesson, but the words of our second. It was just as he was coming up out of the water, when a voice came from heaven saying, “You are my Son, the Beloved; with you I am well pleased.” Most people can’t believe that God or anyone else would every say that to them: “You are my Daughter, whom I love, and with you I am well pleased.” “You are my son, whom I love, with you I am well pleased.” “You are my husband or my wife, whom I love, and with you I am well pleased.” These words are common enough, but they’re also different from what we’re used to because God’s not saying to Jesus or to us that God has high hopes for who we might become. God’s not saying that once all the laundry is washed or when we get that raise so we can put a pool in the back yard, then God will approve of us. Rather, what God is saying to Jesus in his baptism is that it’s because of who you are right now, that God just has to say, “You are mine. The one I love, and with you I am well pleased.” I know a woman who went on a date set up by one of those match-maker websites. This guy said to her: “You have the exact skill set that I’ve been looking for in a partner.” That’s not very romantic. It sounds more like engineering than love to me, but we hear those kinds of words so often that not all of us are able to let the Good News in. We’re not used to the truth: that in our baptism what God said to Jesus, God says to us as well. That in baptism, God takes us as his own. God loves us as his own. God claims us as his own. With us, even with us, God is well pleased. And Presbyterians, we baptize infants, and we need to stop and think about what that means. What has a four-month-old done to qualify for these words? Nothing, but that’s grace. That’s God’s love, and considering Jesus in the Gospel of Mark, even for Jesus it’s not so different for him than it is for an infant. This morning we read from Chapter 1 of Mark’s gospel – the very first chapter. No miracles precede this baptism. He doesn’t say anything wise to please God so that he deserves this affirmation. Instead, Jesus just walks in the water and God speaks these most important words, because that’s what baptism is. It is undeserved grace and love that some struggle to accept for their entire lives. Like us, he is a child of God. But unlike us, when God tells him so, he is bold to believe it. Like us, God who holds the whole world in his hands also holds tightly this Jesus of Nazareth. But unlike us, Jesus never doubts it. Like us, Jesus hears this Good News, that God is well pleased with who he is. But unlike us these words free him from shame. “You are mine, my beloved, and with you I am well pleased.” Jesus heard these words. He never doubted them. Even as God called him to face the Cross still he knew who he was, that he was beloved of God. But can you and I let these words in? There’s a power in words. That’s the difference between the Creation account in Genesis and the story Science tells. It’s not that one is right and one is wrong – it’s that science tells us that it’s all about molecules and energy and that’s fine and good, but none of that matters to your soul nearly as much as words do. So, in Genesis God spoke and there was light. That’s the truth, and you know it, because it’s not photons but words that bring light to so much of the darkness that we know. But some never hear them and others can’t believe them. Isn’t that the truth? The 17th Century poet George Herbert, in his third poem titled Love, wrote: “Love bade me welcome, but my soul drew back.” That seems to be the natural human reaction. Valentine’s Day is coming up, and over the years I’ve read a lot of children’s books about Valentine’s Day from the library, but they’re all just about the same. In every one a little girl sends a valentine card to a little boy, then on the playground or somewhere she sneaks up behind him and plants a kiss on his cheek. 100% of the time – in every one of those books - the little boy runs away. Little boys are funny about love. It was when I was in second grade that my teacher asked our class to go home and ask our parents about what is essential for life. It was science class and we were learning about what it takes to survive, so I went home. My parents and I decided on water. “Water is essential for life,” I reported to my class, and was proud to find that this was a good and acceptable answer. “Yes, water is essential for life,” our teacher responded. Then a girl in the class answered oxygen, which was also a good answer. Then another said food. The teacher approved and said that food is also essential for life. A boy in the row behind me reported that love was essential for life. I couldn’t get my head around that, so I went home and asked my Mom. She agreed with the boy and told me that no one could live without love which didn’t make any sense to me at the time, so I went to my father and he told me that the boy’s parents must be hippies. Love. It’s essential, but sometimes it’s easier to joke about, so the poem from George Herbert continues: “Love bade me welcome: yet my soul drew back… But quick-eyed Love, observing me grow slack… Drew nearer to me, sweetly questioning If I lacked anything.” The poet answers: I lack what would make me worthy. There’s the real challenge. Like the poet we say: Surely, I’m not worthy of love. I should have to pay for it, work for it, aspire to one day deserve it. But what if it’s just like the Gospel of Mark says it is? What if all you have do is come up from the water and hear the words? Words are powerful. God speaks them and the earth is created. And God speaks them in baptism and our lives are changed completely if we’ll let the power of the words do their work. So, if your earthly father never said them, or never said them enough, then hear them said to you by your Heavenly Father: “You are mine.” Or if you’ve struggled to believe them, because love showed up and then walked away, know that the God who came to earth to say them through his life isn’t going anywhere, least of all away from you: “You are mine, my beloved.” The God of love, he came to earth, and when he came up out of the water he heard these words, he let them in. And for the rest of his life he poured these words out, saying to his disciples, “Take and eat. This is my body broken for you. Drink. Here is my love poured out for you to take in. You are mine, my beloved, and with you I am well pleased.” May these words free you to stop working so hard to deserve them, because you can’t. May these words free you to be yourself, for until you can you’ll never be satisfied. And may these words create in you a desire for new life, because we can’t be saved from our sin until we accept the truth that we are worth saving. Amen.