An Undivided Call (Sermon - 3rd Sunday of Epiphany)

1 Corinthians 1: 10-18; Matthew 4: 12-23

I have told some of you about the unique way I attended seminary. The mission of the University of Dubuque Theological Seminary focuses on small rural congregations and Native American congregations.  In order to meet the needs of these worshipping communities, they developed a Commissioned Lay Pastor program about ten years ago – it’s now called a Commissioned Ruling Elder program and it is similar to what our own Kerry Border has gone through here in Michigan – and they made it into a distance program, with online courses, and with one or two onsite requirements. They did this to reduce the cost and increase the time flexibility of this education, because these small congregations could rarely afford to send someone away for residential seminary training. After about ten years, and having graduated over 2000 Commissioned Lay Pastors, some of these got back in touch with the seminary, saying “we want to be ordained as Ministers of the Word and Sacrament; we want to be able to get our Masters of Divinity using the same education process.”

So, since they had already refined the tools of online seminary education, they expanded it into the M.Div program they already had going on campus, and a distance learning program was added to their residential M.Div. I was part of the third group to start.

And so, in August of 2009, I made my first pilgrimage to Dubuque, Iowa, for two weeks of onsite classes.

These pilgrimages would happen twice a year for four years, in what was accurately described as the worst months of the year to be in Dubuque – August and January – the months with the hottest heat and the coldest cold. We came from all over the country, and even around the world – two classmates were from Lebanon and the Dominican Republic. It was a sacred time when we were together, and the online work also brought us together as a community in ways that we never could have imagined would happen.

God called us all, and that was the one common aspect of our journey.

Our ages were varied, our theologies were varied, our lifestyles and our home congregations were varied, but we had been called onto the same path, the same journey – to follow the call of our Lord and Savior.

The first intensive always includes some “getting to know you” and “spiritual formation” work. This includes a “ropes” course, to build trust among one another, and it also includes a trip to the labyrinth at a nearby convent called Sinsinawa.

This was the first time I had ever walked a labyrinth. It reminded me of one of the puzzles I liked to do in those Dell puzzle books – the ones that had not only crosswords, but also logic problems, cryptograms, and complex mazes you had to find your way through with your pen or pencil. Those mazes had only one correct path, but many, many dead ends you could find yourself caught in. I loved doing those things. I imagine that the corn mazes that pop up around here every year during harvest time are similar, although I’ve never been to one of those. [I don’t like getting lost.]

The labyrinth is different from a maze, though. Everyone goes in using the same entry point, and everyone walks the same path, and everyone eventually ends up in the same center point, from which they eventually choose to turn around and walk back out. In the process, you walk every step of the labyrinth.

The walk itself is a spiritual practice. Once you enter, it’s like a process of obedience: you put one foot in front of the other, and you go where the path leads you. You find yourself turning, going back the direction you just came. You get close to the center, and then the path takes you back out toward the edge. You encounter people who are walking the labyrinth at the same time as you; sometimes they come toward you on the path next to yours, and you move aside for a minute to give them room to go ahead on their path. Sometimes you catch up to them, and you need to slow down and let them do their walk at their pace, and you experience new things from pacing yourself with them.

Getting to the center can be an emotional experience – there’s a sort of release that comes, and then going back out is filled with meaning as well.

God speaks to you along the walk. It’s a beautiful walk, the labyrinth.

When I did this for the first time, as I rounded one turn after another,

walking in a way that seemed aimless but was clearly taking me in an intended direction, I suddenly had one of those “message from God” moments that come to me somewhat rarely, but oh, so clearly.

What I heard was God saying to me, you can only walk one path.

This was at a time when I was still trying to juggle many responsibilities and roles and expectations – my career aspirations, my aging parents, my almost-adult children, my church work, my marriage – and I had just entered seminary for reasons that were not yet all that clear to me.

And God said to me, you can only walk one path.

I knew that the path I had to walk was the one that led me to God, not to any of the other enticements or entitlements or false achievements that I had pursued for a long, long time. The labyrinth showed me that I was on one path, a path that many others had walked and were walking, but a path that I could no longer straddle along with any other. I had been called to follow Jesus – no turning back.

Our gospel lesson today is the familiar story of Jesus walking by the fishermen along the shore, and saying, “Follow me, and I will make you fish for people.”

And immediately they leave their nets, their boats, their father, their livelihoods, their family, and they go on the singular path of following Jesus. Jesus will also call other disciples, and more and more people from many different life experiences will follow him on this same path, leading from death to new life, to which he calls them, and he calls us.

Come to me, all you who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest. Come with me; follow me. Come and see! And they do. And we do. But we so often drag our baggage along with us, uncertain how to let go of the things that have meant security to us all along, reluctant to take the risks that seem to be involved – because loving God sounds easy, but loving our neighbors, regardless of how they behave – that’s hard. And loving our enemies – how can we do that without jeopardizing our own comfort, safety, individuality, and traditions? So we try to do this at a safe distance from the path – we send off checks, we post on FB to show what we believe about caring for others, we get together for occasional potlucks or ecumenical services, but we keep our distance when it comes to truly being in Christian community with those we see as “other”, as “those people”.

Paul’s letter to the Corinthians is about the sorts of divisions that spring up, even in Christian community, when we let ourselves become divided, focusing on different paths than the one to which Christ has called us.

In the case of the church at Corinth, what we can tell from this letter is that the different house churches are not the issue for Paul; he is not concerned about whether they worship together or not. What matters to him is that they are competing for who follows the best leader – the most eloquent preacher, the leader who contributes most to their spiritual walk. And what Paul tells them, in this passage as well as through the rest of this letter, is that if they are focused on these other leaders, then they are not following Christ. He assures them that diversity is fine, but divisiveness and dissension is not; that the body of Christ has many members, and they all operate differently to help bring forth the kingdom of God.

But their unity comes from the one we follow – and that is Jesus Christ.

And so the path is a common path; the journey is a common journey –even though we will walk this path, this journey, differently, based on the season or time of our life in which we walk it; based on the unique gifts as well as the personal baggage we bring to it; based on the pace we take. We will walk it differently from one another. But we are on the same journey, to the same place, and we are united – as family members – brothers and sisters, as Paul calls us - with one another in Christ.

Something spoke to the hearts of those fishermen, to cause them to drop their nets and walk away, to follow Jesus. Perhaps something had spoken to their hearts long ago. Perhaps the longing for God was imprinted on their hearts since the beginning of the world. When Jesus walked by, perhaps what they heard was the answer to that longing, and so they could do nothing to resist it. Step by step, one foot in front of the other, not knowing where they were going, they followed the path of the Lord.

Saint Augustine wrote in the introduction to the first book of his Confessions that “our hearts are restless until they find their rest in thee.” Friends, it is our restless hearts that divide us and pit us one against another. Paul encourages us to have the  “same mind” and “same purpose”, and this is what draws us into our common commitment as Christians. It is having the mind of Christ to which we are all called in unity. And it is the cross of Christ, the foolishness that is revealed in this emptying of God’s power out on the cross to save us, that is the ultimate purpose and source of unity for us.

This is the good news of the gospel.

We are not saved by eloquent preaching, or great organizational style, or by unique worship or fellowship, but we are all saved by the great sacrifice made by the God of all creation – for all of us.

Brothers and sisters, we, the people of New Life Presbyterian Church have come from east and west, and from north and south. We have all been called to follow Christ. We have all been invited to the table and the great feast which Christ has prepared. Together. We can’t know for sure why God has brought us together in this time and this place, but here we stand as one congregation, in two places, in three worship services, from many backgrounds and neigborhoods, with many faith journeys. We do not know where God plans to take us, how God plans to use us. But we do know that we are united on one path and one purpose, serving one Lord, seeking to recognize and to show others the holy glimpses of the kingdom of God that are at hand among us all, right here and right now, and that will someday be fully revealed for all eternity.

So let us let go of everything that can hurt or divide us, that can push us off the path. Let us reach out to one another in love, let us practice truly loving one another, dropping the baggage of our divisiveness and dissension, and forgiving one another, so that we can truly show the love of God to all the world.

Let us walk this path together, following Christ in unity.

God is Faithful (Sermon - 2nd Sunday of Epiphany)

1 Corinthians 1:1-9

Paul, called to be an apostle of Christ Jesus by the will of God, and our brother Sosthenes,

To the church of God that is in Corinth, to those who are sanctified in Christ Jesus, called to be saints, together with all those who in every place call on the name of our Lord Jesus Christ, both their Lord and ours:

Grace to you and peace from God our Father and the Lord Jesus Christ.

I give thanks to my God always for you because of the grace of God that has been given you in Christ Jesus,

for in every way you have been enriched in him, in speech and knowledge of every kind

just as the testimony of Christ has been strengthened among you

so that you are not lacking in any spiritual gift as you wait for the revealing of our Lord Jesus Christ.

He will also strengthen you to the end, so that you may be blameless on the day of our Lord Jesus Christ.

God is faithful; by him you were called into the fellowship of his Son, Jesus Christ our Lord.

John 1:29-42

The next day he (John the Baptist) saw Jesus coming toward him and declared, "Here is the Lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world! This is he of whom I said, 'After me comes a man who ranks ahead of me because he was before me.'I myself did not know him; but I came baptizing with water for this reason, that he might be revealed to Israel."And John testified, "I saw the Spirit descending from heaven like a dove, and it remained on him. I myself did not know him, but the one who sent me to baptize with water said to me, 'He on whom you see the Spirit descend and remain is the one who baptizes with the Holy Spirit.' And I myself have seen and have testified that this is the Son of God."

The next day John again was standing with two of his disciples, and as he watched Jesus walk by, he exclaimed, "Look, here is the Lamb of God!" The two disciples heard him say this, and they followed Jesus. When Jesus turned and saw them following, he said to them, "What are you looking for?" They said to him, "Rabbi" (which translated means Teacher), "where are you staying?"  He said to them, "Come and see." They came and saw where he was staying, and they remained with him that day. It was about four o'clock in the afternoon. 

One of the two who heard John speak and followed him was Andrew, Simon Peter's brother. He first found his brother Simon and said to him, "We have found the Messiah" (which is translated Anointed).

--------------------------------------------

This week’s gospel story is another story about Jesus and John the Baptist. John is not at work at the moment, so it seems. He is standing around with a few of his closest friends, and he sees Jesus walk by. So he says to his disciples, “Look! There goes the Lamb of God!” And as soon as he says this, the two disciples turn on their heel and go after Jesus, follow him.

It’s a strange sort of twist on the story in Matthew’s and Mark’s gospel about how Jesus calls the first disciples. It’s the same two people, Simon Peter and his brother Andrew. But unlike the fishing story, where Jesus walks by them and he says, “Follow me”, here we have Jesus walking by, and they seem to decide on their own to follow him. I wondered when I read it, whether John had told lots of things about Jesus to his disciples prior to this encounter. Maybe they had discussed the meaning of what John called Jesus, “the Lamb of God who takes away the sins of the world.”  Perhaps he had said, if you get the chance, go with him, follow him.

For whatever the reason, that is what they do. And for them, it is the beginning of a life of following Christ, and of bringing new followers along. Their lives were changed forever, as they answered his call, and took on the challenge Jesus gave them – to “come and see”, which is more than just passive observing, but is an invitation to come along, to hang out with him, to follow him along the road of his ministry.

And they experienced first hand that Jesus wasn’t staying anywhere, that he didn’t stay still, but he kept on moving on the path of ministry. Jesus brought along a group of 12 disciples who were not prepared, skilled or trained for what was to come.  They were fisherman, not rabbis, or Pharisees, or lawyers (which meant those trained in the law of the Torah). But their life work became obedience to God, using their speech and knowledge and God-given gifts to serve the Lord by loving one another. They answered God’s call, they dedicated their lives, to the best of their abilities.

The reading we heard this morning from Paul’s letter to the Corinthians was the introduction of a letter that addresses the divisions among them, and redirects them to unity. The introduction is filled with words of assurance about their ability to live their lives in community and in response to God’s call. You have everything you need, he tells them. You have speech and knowledge of every kind. You have numerous personal testimonies, based on the ways you have experienced God’s work in your life. These provide confidence to you and to those who hear you. You are not lacking in any spiritual gift, Paul tells them.

And you have the grace of God. You have unearned favor from God, which has nothing whatsoever to do with who you are as a person or the sins you have done, or the sins you will do.

We have the assurance and the confidence that God is faithful, and so we can live in God’s love and we can share it with others freely.

We know that the fear we feel is not of God, and that God will walk us through that fear to a place of hope, if we are willing to come along, to come and see.

This week we remember Martin Luther King Jr, and what he did for our nation, the great sacrifice he made to make us a better nation, a better people. Dr. King knew firsthand that God was faithful, and that enabled him to step out in faith and do the work to which he was called.

But it didn’t come easy.

Well before the March on Washington, or his “I have a Dream” speech, there was a defining moment for Martin Luther King, Jr. And it came past midnight, in a kitchen, at 309 South Jackson Street, in Montgomery, Alabama. Dr. King was 27 years old, two years into his role as pastor of nearby Dexter Avenue Baptist Church. Over the prior month, Dr. King had been called by God, through his fellow pastors, to lead the Montgomery bus boycott. This was a decision that set off a series of death threats delivered by mail and phone to his home — as many as 30 to 40 calls daily, often at night. Normally, Martin could put the phone down and go back to sleep. But one call, on the night of January 27, 1956, stood out.

As his wife, Coretta, and 10-week-old daughter, Yolanda, slept in the master bedroom nearby, the voice on the other end of the line started off by calling him that terrible, offensive “N” word, and said: “We’re tired of your mess. And if you aren’t out of this town in three days, we’re going to blow up your house and blow your brains out.”

Dr. King hung up without comment, as had become his custom.

Threatening phone calls had become a daily routine in the weeks of the protests, and Martin had tried to brush them off at first. In recent days, however, the threatening phone calls had started to take a toll, increasing in number to thirty or forty a day and growing in their menacing intent.

Unwelcome thoughts prey on the mind in the late hours, and Martin found himself overcome with fear. When he spoke about it later, he said, "I got out of bed and began to walk the floor. I had heard these things before, but for some reason that night it got to me.

Stirred into wakefulness, Dr. King made a pot of coffee and sat down at the kitchen table. "I felt myself faltering," he said. It was as though the violent undercurrents of the protest rushed in upon him with heightened force, and he surveyed the turbulent waters for a way of escape, searching for an exit point between courage and convenience – "a way to move out of the picture without appearing a coward" – and he found none. "I was ready to give up," he said.

Dr. King thought of his baby daughter sleeping in her crib, of her "little gentle smile," and of Coretta, who had sacrificed her music career, according to the expectation of the Baptist pastor's wife, to follow her husband south. For the first time, he grasped the seriousness of his situation, the inescapable fact that his family could be taken away from him any minute, or more likely he from them. He felt himself reeling within, as the Psalmist had said, his soul "melted because of trouble, at wit's end." "I felt myself . . . growing in fear," said Dr. King.

Sitting at his kitchen table sipping the coffee, Martin’s thoughts were interrupted by a sudden notion that at once intensified his desperation and clarified his options. "Something said to me, 'You can't call on Daddy now, you can't call on Mama. You've got to call on that something in that person that your daddy used to tell you about, that power that can make a way out of no way.'" With his head now buried in his hands, Dr. King bowed over the kitchen table, over the coffee cup, and prayed aloud. He said:

Lord, I'm down here trying to do what's right. I still think I'm right. I am here taking a stand for what I believe is right. But Lord, I must confess that I'm weak now, I'm faltering. I'm losing my courage. Now, I am afraid. And I can't let the people see me like this because if they see me weak and losing my courage, they will begin to get weak. The people are looking to me for leadership, and if I stand before them without strength and courage, they too will falter. I am at the end of my powers. I have nothing left. I've come to the point where I can't face it alone.

As he prayed alone in the silent kitchen, Martin heard a voice saying, "Martin Luther, stand up for righteousness. Stand up for justice. Stand up for truth. And lo, I will be with you. Even until the end of the world." Then Martin heard the voice of Jesus. "I heard the voice of Jesus saying still to fight on. He promised never to leave me, never to leave me alone. No never alone. No never alone.  He promised never to leave me, never to leave me alone."

And as the voice washed over the stains of the wretched caller, Dr. King reached a spiritual shore beyond fear and apprehension. "I experienced the presence of the Divine as I had never experienced Him before," he said. "Almost at once my fears began to go," Dr. King said of the midnight flash of illumination and resolve. "My uncertainty disappeared. I was ready to face anything."

As he prayed, and placed his fear into God’s hands, Dr. King realized that God is faithful, regardless of the nature of the call, of the risk involved. He did not believe the risk was any less. As he said, he was ready to face anything. Like the disciples were.  Like Christ was, for us and for our salvation.

God is faithful.

Answering the call of God, dedicating your life to it, this is significant. Leading people to see God more clearly, love God more dearly, follow God more nearly, this is a life changing call.

We are ordaining and installing ruling elders and deacons today, leaders in governance, care and compassion for the congregation of New Life Presbyterian Church. Some are entering into roles they have not held before. Others are coming back to continue serving God by helping lead the congregation. All are answering a call, an invitation from Christ to “come and see”, to come along, to explore, to discover, to be transformed.

It’s a challenging call. They are signing on to help us become a new community, one that moves past the differences we feel as east and west – and into New Life. It is daunting sometimes.

We dwell in fear and uncertainty here sometimes.

We create fear and uncertainty for one another here sometimes.

We still sin, we are all still broken people.

But they know, as we know, that God is faithful. And God is merciful – so thanks be to God, we don’t get what we deserve, in response to our sin. And God is gracious – so we get far more than we ever deserve in love and care, in compassion and hope. In New Life.

So as we ordain and install and commit ourselves to supporting and working with these humble servants today, let us do so in the certain knowledge that God has plans for NLPC, plans yet to be revealed, and God is faithful.

Thanks to Charles Marsh / beliefnet.org for MLK Jr story.

http://www.beliefnet.com/Faiths/Christianity/2005/01/Receiving-The-Call.aspx?p=1#

Submersion and Submission

Matthew 3: 13-17

Then Jesus came from Galilee to John at the Jordan, to be baptized by him.

John would have prevented him, saying, "I need to be baptized by you, and do you come to me?"

But Jesus answered him, "Let it be so now; for it is proper for us in this way to fulfill all righteousness." Then he consented.

And when Jesus had been baptized, just as he came up from the water, suddenly the heavens were opened to him and he saw the Spirit of God descending like a dove and alighting on him.

And a voice from heaven said, "This is my Son, the Beloved, with whom I am well pleased."

At this point in the gospel of Matthew, John the Baptist has already been introduced, and we find him already at the banks of the Jordan, calling sinners to turn, to repent, to be baptized. He is preparing the way for the Messiah. The same story we just heard, when told in the gospel of Mark, does not indicate that John the Baptist knew Jesus had come to the Jordan when he baptized him; only Jesus went in to be baptized with the rest, and that the Spirit of God descended on Jesus as he came out of the water.

But here we are given this pre-baptism dialogue between John and his cousin Jesus. We should note that this Jesus is the one of whom John has been saying to those coming to the water –

 “I baptize you with water for repentance, but one more powerful than I is coming after me; I am not worthy to carry his sandals. He will baptize you with the Holy Spirit and fire.  His winnowing fork is in his hand, and he will clear his threshing floor and will gather his wheat into the granary; but the chaff he will burn with unquenchable fire.”

After a description like that, we could imagine that John may intend to fall at the feet of Jesus when he first meets him. He may also believe that his work will be done at that point – that baptizing will take on a whole new meaning. Perhaps he thinks he can hand over the reins, and Jesus will take it from there. The Messiah has come, with Holy Spirit, fire, and winnowing fork, to baptize, to clear the threshing floor, gathering wheat and burning the chaff.

But here comes Jesus, expecting John to baptize him. And so of course John protests – I’ve just finished telling the crowd I can’t even carry your sandals – and you come to me for baptism of repentance?  No way, Jesus…… no way.

Jesus’ response is “Let it be so now; for it is proper for us in this way to fulfill all righteousness.” A more specific translation would be “It is required that you and I fulfill God’s will by allowing me to be baptized.”

Many scholars have tried to address the question “ Why would it be God’s will that the Messiah be baptized?” The text doesn’t appear to say that Jesus needed to be cleansed from sin through baptism, since Jesus’ response implies that it’s out of the ordinary, but should still be allowed to fulfill God’s will.  Douglas Hare writes, (read slowly….) “The most likely answer to this question stresses Jesus’ solidarity with sinners. The one who will save his people from their sins, by (ultimately) submitting to a baptism of annihilation (the crucifixion), must consecrate himself here to his vocation, by joining the sinful multitude in the waters of the Jordan. As the one destined to be their lord and king, he accepts the sacrament of the renewal of God’s people. In doing so, however, he takes that first step on the road to Calvary.”

Here we are at the start of Jesus’ ministry. We know that a name for Jesus is God with us. We understand that means God was walking among us in the person of Jesus. Here we see Jesus, from the beginning, acting in solidarity with us, living and moving as we do, not using his authority as God, but joining us as sinners, from our moment of baptism on.

This is the first of many times we encounter Jesus acting from a position of humility. Let’s remember who we are talking about here. This is GOD.

As Troy Miller describes it in one commentary, “At Jesus’ baptism there is an ironic tension, that remains constant throughout his entire earthly ministry. Jesus’ uniqueness is known in and shouted from the heavens—a higher authority, there is not! — but his own baptism and ministry are characterized by a consistent and conscious submission to those for whom he is bringing the gospel.”

Let’s consider this counsciously submissive behavior. Jesus could have blown right past the act of his own baptism. It could have still been a sacrament for us, because Jesus baptized as part of his ministry. But Jesus submits to God, not John, in an act of obedience that reflects his humility and his solidarity with the rest of us sinners, the rest of us poor slobs.

And this is not the only time.

Jesus the boy submits to his parents when they find him and tell him to come home from the temple with them right now!

Jesus rejects the temptations that the devil places in front of him in the wilderness – and they were temptations that could have showed what Jesus was truly capable of. Make no mistake – the tempter was right when he said, if you want to, you can turn these stones into bread, you can throw yourself off the temple and angels will save you. But Jesus, again, performs this act of submission, humility, and obedience to God.

At the last supper, Jesus takes the basin and the towel and, in an extreme act of submission that shocked his disciples, he kneels and washes their feet. And just like John, when the disciples protest, Jesus makes it clear that this is the will of God – unless I wash your feet, you will have no part in me, he says to Peter.

And then of course the ultimate act of submission, the ultimate act of solidarity with us as sinners was Christ’s obedience to the point of death on the cross, all to save us from our own sin, something we could never do on our own.

This is the paradox that was so shocking to those who knew Jesus. This is the scandal – that God almighty, who deserves all honor and glory and praise, came here among us not just as a human being, but as a human being emptied of all hubris, all pride, all competitiveness. It makes me wonder if that is a big part of what it means to be without sin.

We can now see why Paul wrote to the Philippians these words:

“3 Do nothing from selfish ambition or conceit, but in humility regard others as better than yourselves.  4 Let each of you look not to your own interests, but to the interests of others.  5 Let the same mind be in you that was in Christ Jesus,

6          who, though he was in the form of God,

                        did not regard equality with God

                        as something to be exploited,

7          but emptied himself,

                        taking the form of a slave,

                        being born in human likeness.

            And being found in human form,

8                      he humbled himself

                        and became obedient to the point of death—

                        even death on a cross.

 9             Therefore God also highly exalted him

                        and gave him the name

                        that is above every name,

10       so that at the name of Jesus

                        every knee should bend,

                        in heaven and on earth and under the earth,

11       and every tongue should confess

                        that Jesus Christ is Lord,

                        to the glory of God the Father."

Brothers and sisters, if Jesus could do this, why can we not? This competitive world tries to keep us in the mode of needing to prove ourselves, to competing with one another, pushing to be the best, to show how we are at the top of the pecking order, driving us to be one-upping each other about, well, everything – our titles, our salaries, our children’s grades or degrees, about achievements and successes of all kinds. The way our denomination does things compared to that other one. The way our church does things compared to the one down the road.  The size of that congregation across the road.

What would it be like if we took on the path of submission, not bothering to consider ourselves as better or more worthy than anyone else? How might that change the way we see one another, across the pew, across the campuses, across the Detroit area, across the world?

One day this past week, when I was driving on US 23, heading to M-59, there was one pretty clear right lane and the one on the left that was a bit more dicey. There was a steady stream of traffic in the right lane going 45-50 miles an hour, and sometimes we’d catch up to someone going a bit slower, and we’d all slow down behind them. And of course before long you would see someone go flying past on the left, and then when they found the inevitable patch of ice, they would slow down, turn on their signal, and humbly seek for space to come back into the right lane. You could almost see them realizing that was fast enough, and they’d better get back in line.

Jesus shows us that it’s ok to be humble – in fact, it’s best. To be obedient enough to fulfill God’s will, we will need to get back in line, to do the things that speak for humility,  and to not worry about where we land, because God will take care of that for us.

If you think about it, where else but the church are you able to give up that competitive drive, and just rest in the loving care of God? Where else but the church are you encouraged to be your humble self, and that you are loved just the way you are? If we cannot let down our defenses here in the church, the body of Jesus Christ, and let our broken selves minister to the other broken selves that find their way here, where else will this ever happen?

As we consider the meaning of Jesus’ baptism today, and as we pause to remember our own baptisms, let us remember that by going down into the water of baptism and reemerging, we participate in Jesus’ death and resurrection. In Baptism, we die to what separates us from God and are raised to newness of life in Christ. 

By our submersion in the waters of baptism, we follow Jesus into submission and obedience to the will of God, emptying ourselves of the hubris that the world encourages, and taking on the humility of the Messiah himself.

In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost. Amen.