baptism

Sunday’s Sermon – Water and Fire – Luke 3:15-17, 21-22; Isaiah 43:1-7

January 13, 2019 Leave a Comment

Today is Baptism of the Lord Sunday! Fresh from the story of Christ’s birth, we leap ahead in the timeline some thirty-something years to the beginning of his ministry in Galilee. The story of Jesus’ baptism is shared in our Synoptic Gospels – Matthew, Mark, and Luke. All three use this event to proclaim in no uncertain terms that Jesus is the Messiah, the one for whom God’s people have been waiting. The big points are the same. Each describes John the Baptist as a wild man from the wilderness who baptizes those who repent. The authors make a point John the Baptist is not the Messiah, perhaps to quell rumors that he was. In the verses we skipped in Luke’s gospel, this is further punctuated with the note that John the Baptist was arrested by King Herod; later we will read how he is beheaded. John the Baptist steps aside, and the true Messiah, Jesus Christ, emerges from the crowd to take center stage. He has come to be baptized. His immersion is then followed by words from heaven in one form or the other. Here is where each writer also includes some unique details that give their version a slight spin, usually related to their perspective and point of emphasis for their audience. But all are again a proclamation that he is God’s beloved child. The Baptism of the Lord is Jesus’ inaugural moment into ministry. Christ’s identity is revealed. It is from this point where it all begins.

The verses leading up to the moment in the river Jordan help us make sense of what it means. In Luke’s account, our text opens with the reminder that people are filled with expectation, longing for a Messiah. John the Baptist’s words help speak to the one who is to come. He uses the imagery of the winnowing fork to describe it. I don’t know about you, but this was not a familiar analogy or metaphor to me. It likely was for the original audience in the 1^st century though. As Linda McKinnish Bridges explains:

This common agricultural illustration was frequently used in the biblical world (Ps. 1:4; Prov. 20:26, Isa. 41:15f; Jer. 15:7). The harvested grain is taken to the threshing floor and cleaned. Toss a portion of the harvested grain in the aid with a winnowing fan, a fork-like shovel, then let the wind do the work. The wind takes control of the process, separating the wheat from the chaff, a mixture of heavy husks and straw. The wheat falls away from the chaff. The chaff is collected and burned, and the wheat remains safely stored in the barn[i].

The long-awaited-for Messiah was supposed to sort things out, separate what was good from bad in the world in acts of judgment. John’s description of this cues us in to what people were looking for, and will serve as another juxtaposition as Jesus’ ministry begins and seems to be at-odds with expectations. But the illustration also points to more than just Jesus.

The illustration of wheat and chaff . . . reveals that the most active agent is the wind. The agent that does the separating of good and evil, the righteous from the unrighteous, is the Spirit. . . . [in other words], Jesus holds the shovel, and the Spirit does the work[ii].

John is clear that baptism is about more than just water; it is also about the Holy Spirit, illustrated here as wind, fire, and dove. All of these images swirl around the text like ripples on the water, calling us to look below the surface of the water, or maybe behind it.

On the outskirts of the southeast corner of Chestnut Ridge County Park in New York there is an area called Shale Creek Preserve, which features a waterfall cascading over a picturesque grotto. The rock formations are such that there are several fissures in the shale through which methane gas escapes. The gas is highly flammable, and once lit, creates a brilliant flicker known as the “eternal flame,” reaching up to 8 inches in height, visible even from a distance where it flickers for extended periods of time even as water cascades in such close proximity. It’s a curiosity for sure, and a reminder that even in nature, sometimes things that don’t seem to go together can be held in imaginative tension that leads to wonder as fire and water seem to coexist at the same time[iii].

This is similar to the images Luke gives us for baptism. Did you catch it? John the Baptist notes that while he baptizes with water; the one who comes after him (hint: that’s the Messiah, who will enter the scene just moments later), will baptize with the Holy Spirit and, yes, FIRE. It’s a bit curious, in a story all about water, to have this little nugget, nestled into the description of the Holy Spirit, and literally surrounded by references to being submerged in water. Have you ever tried to light a campfire after a rainstorm? While it’s not impossible, it certainly is difficult to get fire out of wet wood. And yet, here it is, like the eternal flame, burning amidst the currents, catching our eyes and causing us to wonder.

Paying attention to the Holy Spirit in the midst of the story of Jesus’ baptism reminds us that this sacrament is about more than just water on our heads. In fact, it’s even about more than being a part of God’s covenant and welcomed into Christ’s church. Baptism is about throwing ourselves into the wind of the Holy Spirit. This even works its way into our liturgy. After baptism, our Book of Common Worship instructs the minister to say something like this:

child of the covenant, you have been sealed by the Holy Spirt in baptism, and marked as Christ’s own forever.

As wonderful as it is to talk about the water, this morning we are reminded to not skip over the spirit, but to look for flames among the currents.

It is said that the books of Luke and Acts, both believed to be by the same author, are “books of the Holy Spirit.” They focus on the movement of this mysterious part of the Trinity in ways the other gospels don’t. In Luke’s gospel, the Spirit is already highlighted well by the time we reach this story in chapter 3. It has swept over John the Baptist’s birth, been named as the way in which Mary came to bear the Messiah in her womb, caused Elizabeth to jump for joy at Mary’s arrival, inspired Simeon in visiting the temple. As one writer notes, Luke is all about the Holy Spirit. He:

draws on language about the Holy Spirit in a variety of contexts, and he is more concerned with asserting the presence and activity of the Spirit than with charting the Spirit’s moves[iv].

Baptism reminds us of the Spirit on the move, and should “light a fire” under us in faith. It affirms that God has a purpose for us. This Baptism of the Lord Sunday challenges us to return to the waters to remember our identity as God’s own, hearing those promises from Isaiah as words for us today and celebrate that we are a part of God’s covenant, connected through Jesus Christ. We joyfully embrace this identity as God’s own, not so we can just pat ourselves on the back, but so that the Holy Spirit can descend like a dove. As Ernest Hess notes:

When heaven opens up, something real descends and enters earth. This is the inbreaking of the new age. The Spirit is loose in the world in and through Jesus, who will baptize his followers, not with water alone, but with the Holy Spirit and fire[v].

Baptism is a disrupter in our lives that sets us on a new course, with Christ and the Holy Spirit working hand in hand.

And so this morning, we return to the waters, not to be baptized again (or for the first time), but to remember this as a touchstone for our faith that launches us into the future, and to pray that the heavens will break open for us and declare the start of something new. We fling ourselves into the wind, and trust the Spirit will sort us out and set us on a path for ministry. We surround ourselves with the refreshing, rushing water, and hope to catch a glimpse of God’s fire burning in its midst. May it be so. Amen.

~sermon by Rev. Elizabeth Lovell Milford, Heritage Presbyterian Church, January 13, 2019

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[i] Linda McKinnish Bridges, “Exegetical Perspective: Luke 3:15-17, 21-22,” Feasting on the Word, Year C Volume 1, David L. Bartlett and Barbara Brown Taylor, Editors, (Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox Press, 2009).

[ii] Linda McKinnish Bridges, “Exegetical Perspective: Luke 3:15-17, 21-22,” Feasting on the Word, Year C Volume 1, David L. Bartlett and Barbara Brown Taylor, Editors, (Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox Press, 2009).

[iii] https://curiosity.com/topics/how-fire-burns-beneath-a-waterfall-at-eternal-flame-falls-curiosity/?utm_source=facebook&utm_medium=social&utm_campaign=20190109waterfallfire&fbclid=IwAR36s57qx3dqyigGO_adv99ixIf6un5yW-SkdYxAGSTf0xbHCnlQHa9mc3Y and http://www.wnytrails.com/?p=243 , both accessed 1/12/19.

[iv] Texts for Preaching, Year C

[v] Ernest Hess, “Homiletical Perspective: Luke 3:15-17, 21-22,” Feasting on the Word, Year C Volume 1, David L. Bartlett and Barbara Brown Taylor, Editors, (Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox Press, 2009).

Sunday’s Sermon – What’s In A Name? – Mark 8:27-30

September 16, 2018 Leave a Comment

Preparing to have a child is full of a ton of decisions, and endless questions from friends, family, doctors, even strangers in the check-out line. As the due date gets closer, one becomes more common – “what are you going to name him?” Of all the decisions you make, naming your child can be one of the most difficult. Do you pick a name that reflects names that run in the family? Are you looking for a name that is traditional, trendy, or totally unique? Will you name your child after a fruit or vegetable? What kind of nicknames might come from this name? Is it going to sound right with your last name, or give your little on an awkward set of initials? It’s easy to overthink this, but also get stuck in a lot of places. And that’s without the commentary other people are bound to give if you share your name early. Even in modern society, naming has a lot of pressure; this is the name that likely will reflect and maybe shape your child’s identity for the rest of their life. It is one of the first things that we share about a baby’s arrival, and it’s kind of a big deal. Like in the opening sequence of the movie The Lion King, when all the animals come to Pride Rock as “The Circle of Life” plays, and Rafiki lifts up the little lion cub, presenting “Simba” to the entire kingdom. It is dramatic and full of meaning, not just for the one being named, but for the whole community.

The opening verses of Mark’s gospel are a similar proclamation, as the evangelist says “The beginning of the good news of Jesus Christ, the Son of God. (Mark 1:1)” In this, he makes a bold assertion, a royal proclamation if you will, that this is not just any ordinary person or story. This is Jesus Christ, christos in the Greek, which means “anointed one” and would have connections with the anointing of kings in ancient Israel. “Christ” is not a last name for Jesus; it is a proclamation of his identity, and shapes everything in the story that follows. The next eight chapters in Mark demonstrate a flyover of Jesus’ ministry along the sea and in the wilderness, full of stories of healings and miracles. Along the way, we hear the buzz among the people of Galilee. Jesus casts out an unclean spirit and they ask “who is this?” (1:27). He tells the paralytic that his sins are forgiven and the religious leaders question his authority, for “who can forgive but God alone?” (2:1-12). Jesus speaks in the storm and the disciples wonder “who is this, that even the wind and the sea obey him?” (4:41).

Halfway through the gospel, these murmurs turn from a quiet buzz to a direct question, a hinge in the narrative that shifts everything in the verses we read just a few moments ago as Jesus is on the way to Caesarea Philippi. This time, it is Jesus who asks the question. First, he inquires about what people are saying about him and his identity, almost as if testing the waters of gossip. The disciples answer with reports that indicate the overall reception of Jesus up to this point by the community, each with a significance that hints at a bigger answer.

In chapter 6, Herod Antipas is alarmed that Jesus is John the Baptist, which is a startling revelation for Herod just had him beheaded, so this would indicate he had risen from the dead. Resurrection would shake the very foundations of whomever was in power. Others said Elijah, which would have brought hope in Jewish hearts aching for God’s promised Messiah, as many expected Elijah’s presence to be a necessary prerequisite to a messianic appearance. Elijah is only one of two in the Hebrew scriptures who did not die, but was taken to be with God directly, and in a mighty fashion with a chariot of fire. But perhaps he was a prophet, which would have given reassurance to the people that God had not abandoned them, even though the people in the 1^st century were under Roman occupation and did not have their own king from the line of David[i]. All of these hinted at the expectations the people of God had for their redeemer and Savior. And yet, none were quite right. So Jesus pointedly asks again, “Who do you say that I am?”

He’s not looking for the textbook answer. As Andre Resner notes:

[Jesus] demands that they answer from their core. They cannot rely on hearsay – gossip theology – from politicians or theologians. They must take a personal stand[ii].

Of course, Peter is ready and quick to answer. He repeats the label given to readers in the very first verse of Mark’s gospel: “You are the christos,” the Messiah. All of the hopes and expectations for centuries of God’s people are met in this word.

Ding! Ding! Ding! We might expect a round of applause, gold star, or some other award. But what follows is the opposite. They’re told not to tell anyone about him. This is known as the “Messianic Secret,” and is a repeated instruction throughout the gospel. It’s not because they necessarily get the title wrong, but because even with the right answer, they don’t fully comprehend what it means. In the verses that follow these, Jesus describes what is to come, and dismantles the idea that the Messiah will overthrow everything in a blaze of glory. God’s power and authority is not going to look like they expect it to look. Instead it is a story that continues to Jerusalem and the cross.

His question isn’t looking to boost his own ego at the midpoint in the gospel, or determine the disciples’ approval rating of his ministry. It isn’t a test. Instead, as Dr. Karoline Lewis offers, this question posed to the disciples is:

It’s the moment when you come face-to-face with your own commitment, your own discipleship, your own identity. It’s the moment when you have to admit to what extent how you follow Jesus actually connects with some sort of confession of who you believe Jesus to be.

. . .

“Who do you say that I am?” is at the same time, “who will you say that you are?” That’s the rub of this question, the heart of its difficulty. If it we only had to provide an answer to Jesus’ question of his identity, that would be one thing. However, answering the question of Jesus’ identity is also having to give voice to our own[iii].

What was true for the disciples then is true for us today. If we claim Jesus to be the Christ, the Messiah, our Lord and Savior, then we are also asserting something bold about who we are choosing to be. And, even like Peter in his enthusiasm, in our eagerness to call ourselves Christian, we might not always slow down enough to think about all that it actually means. Wrapped in this question is a renewed invitation to discipleship. It is Jesus again standing at the shoreline, asking the disciples to follow him. And hearing it today offers us the opportunity to renew our own sense of discipleship as those who claim Jesus as Christ. We might ask ourselves what difference it makes for us to claim Jesus is the one in whom all of our hopes are realized. Does it make a difference in your life to profess this faith? How? Are we living as those who have truly been transformed by the good news of the Messiah, or are we just giving Jesus the head nod and going about our lives. Are our choices reflective of the faith we profess? This is what is asked as Jesus turns to us and says “Who do YOU say that I am?” It is a powerful moment for each of us to consider.

It is also beyond just our own individual relationships with Christ. If you look closer at his question, the word “you” actually is plural. Jesus isn’t asking for personal responses of allegiance from the disciples. He is asking for a collective understanding. Southern vernacular helps us articulate it better. In this passage, Jesus is asking: “Who do y’all” or perhaps better “all y’all” say that I am? It is a convicting statement for “the church” in many ways, and is one we should be answering continually as a community of faith. And I think we are seeking to do that here. In fact, I can name three ways it’s happening in our context right now.

At the 8:30 service, we affirm the Spirit’s call to Lisa Wolfgang to serve our congregation as a deacon. Part of her ordination vows is to affirm her faith, including a profession of Jesus Christ as Lord and Savior, and in response we promise our support and prayers for her leadership along with our other officers. The ordination vows, which all elders, deacons, and ministers of word and sacrament make in the PC(USA), remind us of who we are called to be as those who claim Jesus as the Messiah. They talk about being faithful to the holy Scriptures, attentive to God’s guidance, respecting one another and seeking to live in peace, purity and unity. They call us to serve with energy, intelligence, imagination, and love. What a wonderful list of what it means to live into our faith!

At the 11:00 service, we have the joy of celebrating the sacrament of Baptism, our reminder that we are claimed as Christ’s own forever. Shelby’s parents, Drew and Kasey, will profess their faith in Jesus Christ as Lord and Savior, and immediately follow with a promise to raise her in that faith. Furthermore, we as a congregation make a promise to teach and support her on behalf of the entire Christian church, so that she may grow up to come to know the grace and love of God through Jesus Christ. Baptism reminds us that claiming Jesus as Christ not only proclaims grace and forgiveness, but places us in the context of a community who encourages and nurtures each other throughout our entire journey of faith. This is what it means to be a Christian, too.

Finally, many of you took part in our visioning process which launched last Sunday. There is still time to respond to our initial questions, from a written survey that’s available in the Narthex, to large pieces of paper for your notes near the coffee area, to the link that is available in this month’s newsletter or on our Facebook page. Our Visioning Team will begin its work with these responses, and coming soon will invite you to participate in further face-to-face conversations about who God is calling us to be as a congregation. Throughout this process, together we will be answering the question Jesus asked his disciples in Mark, professing who it is we believe Christ to be, and who we are called to be in response to that affirmation of faith.

And really, that’s what being the church is all about. Making sure that we hear that question from Jesus, put some time and energy into our answer, and then make sure the response we give is not just lip service, but reflected in the lives we lead as his disciples. Christ, or Messiah, has to be a name that makes a difference for us, both as individuals and as a community of faith. Otherwise, we’ve missed the point. So even as we blurt out our initial answer, Jesus calls us to pause for a moment, and think about all it means, for us and for the world. For what is in Jesus’ name? Everything. Amen.

~Rev. Elizabeth Lovell Milford
September 16, 2018

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[i] Summarizing Andre Resner, “Homiletical Perspective: Mark 8:27-30,” Feasting on the Gospels: Mark, Cynthia A. Jarvis and E. Elizabeth Johnson, editors, (Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox Press, 2014).
[ii] Ibid.
[iii] Karoline Lewis, “Who Do You Say That I Am?” Dear Working Preacher, September 16, 2018, https://www.workingpreacher.org/craft.aspx?post=5220, accessed 9/13/2018

Sunday Sermon – Claimed – Matthew 3:13-17, Isaiah 42:1-9

January 8, 2017 Leave a Comment

I get anxious every time I have to fill out a nametag. And no, it’s not because I can’t remember who I am. It’s because spatial awareness is not my gift. Invariably I start with a big “E” and then by the time I get to the “th” it’s tiny and squished. Of course, if I got creative, there are many things I could write on a nametag. First are the obvious names and nicknames. To some, I’m known as Liz, although generally I prefer Elizabeth. Professionally, I often still include my maiden name, as many in the church world knew me as Elizabeth Lovell, and it helps them bridge the gap if I look familiar or they know my parents. But beyond an actual name, I’m struck by how many ways I could describe who I am. I am a daughter, sister, wife, and mother. I am a friend, colleague, and teammate. I am a Pastor or Reverend. And the list goes on, taking up more and more of that precious writing space.

How about you? What all could you write on a nametag? Chances are it depends on the situation and circumstances, and how you want those who read it to perceive you. One popular tv show from the past featured a lead character attending a Weight Watchers meeting for the first time, and was asked not to put her name, but the reason she was there. She wrote “Baby Weight” and placed it on her shirt.

I wonder what Jesus would write? Jesus? J.C? Christ? Emmanuel? Messiah? King? Matthew’s gospel helps to give us a clue, with the story of Jesus’ first public appearance. This is his debutante moment if you will, as he emerges on the edges of the river Jordan to be baptized by his cousin, John.

It is a peculiar story, though. Jesus enters the scene not as a valiant king or leader we might expect from the way Matthew starts the gospel, but instead comes in the most humble way possible, alongside sinners coming to repent and receive cleansing waters from the River. Here, though, Matthew is very intentional in his telling. He takes on what one commentator notes as the tone of the “apologetics,” those who engage in the theological or philosophical practice of explaining or defending a point with careful justification and strong conviction. “His retelling of some stories and events is intended not simply to act as a historical record, but also (and maybe more pointedly) to provide a response or defense to his audience concerning certain implications that others, and maybe they, have drawn .” In the case of the birth narrative, Matthew wanted to be clear that this child born was not some ordinary baby born out of wedlock to a teenage mother, but a child conceived by the Holy Spirit – one that God had planned for in a unique and miraculous way. Similarly, in the telling of Jesus’ baptism, Matthew takes time to include a conversation between John and Jesus that answers the inevitable question believers would have – if Jesus was without sin, why did he need to be baptized? The answer fits neatly into Matthew’s ongoing perspective that Jesus Christ was the fulfillment of what had been promised. If Matthew were choosing a denomination today, he might be quite drawn to us Presbyterians. He liked things to be done decently and in order. In his gospel, Jesus’ baptism is a reflection of that, as a part of fulfilling a plan set into motion long ago. His approach to this moment is pivotal, and illustrates the kind of leader and messiah Christ will be – one who truly walks alongside the people and is a servant of all. Such humility echoes prophets like Isaiah, and foreshadows the events that are to come. But back to the riverside where we discover more about who exactly Jesus is.

After he convinces John to actually baptize him, the heavens break open. The Spirit of God descends like a dove in what I imagine to be a Hollywood inspired cinematic glory, and the voice of God speaks to all who have gathered. This is another unique feature of Matthew’s telling – in Luke and Mark this voice is heard only by Jesus, but in Matthew it is a public proclamation: “This is my Son, the Beloved, with whom I am well pleased.” (v. 17). And there you have it, another thing to add to Jesus’ nametag. In this proclamation, God claims and affirms Jesus’ identity and commissions him to carry out his purpose on earth.

It is from this text, along with the Great Commission (see Matthew 28:18-20) that we draw our understanding of the sacrament of Baptism. Along with communion, we identify it as something Christ participated in and instructed us to do the same. The concluding words of our passage from today celebrate God’s claiming of Christ as his beloved Son. In the same way, in baptism we affirm God’s love for us, and proclaim for the one being baptized, whether a sweet and squirmy infant, a tenacious and talented teen or a weathered and wise adult, that they belong to God. Baptism gives us a new nametag to bear – “child of God.”

To understand this new label, we first should unpack a bit more about what baptism does and means. According to our Presbyterian theology, Baptism is “a sign and seal of incorporation into Christ .” In it, we are connected in a tangible way to Christ and reminded of the grace and love extended to us by God. We believe that the Holy Spirit binds us in covenant to God in this sacrament, which is a symbol of inclusion in the church universal. As we begin a new year together, it is particularly appropriate to think about these things, and the new life given to us in Christ. Baptism reminds us of that reality which has already happened, and is a way that we can respond. It enacts and seals what the Word of God proclaims: God’s redeeming grace is offered to all people . There are numerous other explanations for what happens in Baptism, all with rich symbolism that ties into the totality of the gospel narrative and speaks to the breadth and depth of this symbol. But, for today, I encourage you to hold in your mind that Baptism is a sacrament that reminds us we are “claimed” as Christ’s own forever. Now, this is a claim that has happened well before the water hits our head. It is a promise as old as God, but in Baptism we write it on a nametag for all the world to see.

Baptism reminds us of the best versions of ourselves, our core identity that was woven into our beings by a compassionate creator. Theologian and former Archbishop of Canterbury Rowan Williams says the Church has come to view baptism as “a kind of restoration of what it is to be truly human. To be baptized is to recover the humanity that God first intended .” Baptism is a mark of a new creation. Reminding ourselves of this assures us that God wants, above all else, to be in a loving relationship with us, God’s beloved children.

This is the root of our identity as Christians – that we belong to God. This is true from the very beginning. It is not something we have earned because we are particularly cute or talented. It is because God created us to be in relationship, going so far as to send Jesus to make sure we knew just how much God loved us. In order to truly be faithful disciples, we have to allow this name, this label, to be the one that transcends all of the others. Above all else, we have to remember that we are children of God.

Of course, that is quickly tested. We juggle many different names and roles. Some of them fit in well with the idea of being a child of God, others? Not so much. And sometimes, instead of letting God proclaim who we are, beloved, we allow the world around us to define us. Patricia J. Calahan writes:
. . . as we grow, we sometimes forget the heavenly voice, and we begin to listen to other voices that confuse us. Perhaps we hear voices when we are children through report cards that tell us that we are not smart enough. As teenagers, we hear voices through the cruelty of other teens who tell us that we are not cool enough. As adults, we hear voices that tell us we are not successful enough or that we do not have enough money. . . Somehow, as God’s voice gets drowned out, we listen to these other voices, and we are tempted to forget who we are. We are tempted to forget that God and a congregation of Christians have claimed us as beloved children of God .

So we need some reminders of this pivotal claim on our very lives. We need to hear God’s voice, claiming us not just in those moments of our baptism, but throughout our lives. Perhaps we can hear it in the voice of the prophet Isaiah. Our passage from today, written in a section of the book known as “Second Isaiah,” dated sometime during the Babylonian exile, offers similar words of claim and hope for the people of God. It is the first of four poetic passages about a “Suffering Servant,” whom biblical scholars debate about to this day. Some argue, with good grounding, that the servant mentioned here is the Messiah, the one we know as Jesus Christ, and it certainly fits. Others, however, argue that perhaps it is a more general call to servant leadership that could apply in a variety of circumstances over time, even extending to us as disciples today. I think either interpretation is solid, to be honest, and in many ways leads to a similar place for how we might hear it today. The latter argument allows us to hear God’s words quite personally, but so does the notion that it is about Jesus, if put in the context of Baptism. In Baptism, we are “marked as Christ’s own forever.” As Christians, we are called to become like Christ, in word and in deed. We know we can’t do it alone, so it makes sense that God would reach out to us, through Christ, to help us be the kind of servants that are described. This is particularly true when we consider the latter half of our passage, which turns the attention on a personal and direct address from God. I invite you to hear verses 6-9 again, imagining them as God’s words to you, with the heavens ripping open, even here and now, claiming us again in the waters of baptism:

6I am the LORD, I have called you in righteousness,
I have taken you by the hand and kept you;
I have given you as a covenant to the people, a light to the nations,
to open the eyes that are blind, to bring out the prisoners from the dungeon,
from the prison those who sit in darkness.
8 I am the LORD, that is my name; my glory I give to no other, nor my praise to idols.
9 See, the former things have come to pass, and new things I now declare;
before they spring forth, I tell you of them.

Brothers and Sisters in Christ, this is God’s promise and God’s proclamation. Through Christ, we belong to God. It is a promise sealed in the waters of Baptism, and God will continue to repeat it to us as many times as it takes for us to believe it. As we finish our reflection time this morning, I invite you to come forward and touch the water of the font, then make the sign of the cross with it on your forehead as a reminder of God’s incredible love and grace for you. If you have been baptized, whether as a baby or a child or an adult, may it be for you a renewal of that moment and an affirmation of God’s claim to you. If you have not been baptized, you are still welcome to come forward and touch the water as a symbol of God’s grace. And I would be happy to speak with you more after the service today, or in the future, about how you can receive the sacrament of baptism and we can proclaim what God has already done and welcome you into the family of faith. As our opening hymn proclaimed, “let creation praise it’s giver; there is water in the font.” Come, and be reminded of God’s claim on you, and on all of us, as a beloved child of God.

_______________________________________
Troy A. Miller, “Exegetical Perspective: Matthew 3:13-17” Feasting on the Word, Year A, Volume 1, David L. Bartlett and Barbara Brown Taylor, Editors. (Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox Press, 2010).

Book of Order 2015-2017, The Constitution of the Presbyterian Church, U.S.A., Part II, W-2.3000

See Book of Order W-2.3006.

Rowan Williams, Being Christian: Baptism, Bible, Eucharist, Prayer, (Grand Rapids, MI: William B. Eerdmans Publishing Company, 2014).

Patricia J. Calahan, “Pastoral Perspective: Matthew 3:13-17,” Feasting on the Gospels: Matthew, Volume 1, Chapters 1-13, Cynthia A. Jarvis and E. Elizabeth Johnson, editors. (Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox Press, 2013).

Sunday’s Sermon – Water and Fire – Luke 3:15-17, 21-22; Isaiah 43:1-7

Sunday’s Sermon – What’s In A Name? – Mark 8:27-30

Sunday Sermon – Claimed – Matthew 3:13-17, Isaiah 42:1-9

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