Sermon for the Baptism of our Lord - "Called Beyond Ourselves"

Woo-hoo! My first sermon at the University Lutheran Center in Ames. Definitely different than our former home, which we do still miss. But a good start to ministry here. More tomorrow when home internet is connected.

One of my favorite musicians is Rich Mullins, and the album A Liturgy, A Legacy, And A Ragamuffin Band has been one of my favorite recordings for years. At the very beginning of the album, the Ragamuffin Band gathers to warm up before launching into the song Here In America. You can hear some tinkling of guitar strings, a few laughs, and then one of the musicians says, “I just want to make this clear: I’m barely ready to do this.” Everyone laughs, then Rich calls out the count and the band launches into the song.

I’m feeling much the same way this morning: I’m barely ready to do this. We moved to Ames from Minnesota all of this week: we packed on Monday, loaded the truck on Tuesday, I drove down with our cats on Wednesday, bought our house on Thursday and we’ve spent the weekend unpacking and digging out from under the mess. We didn’t find the silverware until yesterday afternoon. I’m wearing a tie this morning because I haven’t found the box where I keep my clergy collars. Our daughter has worn the same pair of sweats all week because most of her clothes are buried somewhere in the garage. We just found out yesterday that one of our dear friends we left behind in Minnesota has advanced lung cancer. With all of this going on, the thought that I’m supposed to have something worthwhile to say about God’s word this morning is more than a little intimidating. But this is where I’ve been called today. This is how it works: God comes to us where we are to call us beyond ourselves to something greater. Would you pray with me? Heavenly Father, we often don’t understand Your will, Your hopes, Your heart – You seem greater than anything we can imagine. And yet You have called us here, to hear Your word, to receive Your promises of forgiveness, life and salvation, to trust that You are indeed alive and active among us this day. Fill us with Your Spirit. Redeem us with Your grace. Empower us with Your love, that in all we say and do we may live out the holy calling of life lived in Your name. Amen.

John the Baptist was right to be humble in our gospel reading for this morning. He should have been the one receiving a baptism from Jesus – the baptism of spirit and fire which John prophesied would come from Jesus alone. Matthew doesn’t make any mention of John and Jesus being related: their status as cousins comes from Luke’s gospel. For Matthew, John is “the voice crying out in the wilderness;” John is the one preparing the way for the Lord’s anointed One. John’s message in Matthew’s gospel was simple: “Repent, for the kingdom of God is at hand!” When the king comes to his throne, no one expects the herald to do anything except get out of the way.

But Jesus turned the tables on John. If this was a coronation, it was a strange coronation indeed. Jesus of Nazareth revealed the kingdom of God to the world, and the first act of that kingdom was not a royal decree, a splendid feast or a spectacular display of power and might. When the kingdom of God came near, it came in humble submission and quiet consent. Jesus did not stand and sound the trumpets to inaugurate His reign as God’s Son: he knelt and asked to be washed, washed in waters of dedication and righteousness. This was the first sign that God’s kingdom would not be what the people had expected – and it was the first instance where God called someone beyond their own faith into something remarkable.

I wonder if John felt the same way that all of us do at the beginning of something for which we are barely ready. He had to know that the Messiah he was prophesying would come eventually: but did John know that this was the hour he had foretold? I woke up this morning and had a bowl of cereal and a cup of coffee, just like most mornings – did John wake up, grab some honey and a locust or two and think, “the Messiah is coming today!” Scripture doesn’t tell us. What it does tell us is that John knew that Jesus was the one who should be doing the baptizing, that John was no longer the big man on campus. John’s humility and desire to submit to Jesus’ authority and position was right and proper. But something bigger than John’s humility was happening that day on the Jordan River near Jerusalem. John was being called into something beyond himself, changed by Jesus’ own humility into something far different than he had been before.

We often read Jesus’ words here as if they are a commentary on His own need for baptism. Scholars present different interpretations of what Jesus meant by seeking to “fulfill all righteousness.” But what if this had nothing to do with Jesus at all? What if Jesus’ desire for baptism was about John’s ministry? What if Jesus came to be baptized by John for John’s sake?

One of the great problems with which we struggle is our desire to be safe, to find the point where we know precisely what’s going on and how we fit in the world in which we live. Modern Lutherans are particularly well-known for a reluctance to change, to experience new things, to move out of our comfort zones. Personally, I’m no different: I’ve always felt very uncomfortable about being “the new guy.” I don’t like not knowing where everything goes, stumbling around, always asking for help. But safety is not the essential characteristic of a Christian’s life: faith is the essential characteristic of a Christian’s life. Faith is what allows us to meet new experiences and challenging situations with grace and mercy. Faith is what gives us hope in the midst of suffering, calm in the midst of anxiety, trust in the midst of those times when everything around us seems foreign and unfamiliar. Faith is what helps me stand before you today and trust that God is up to something here. Faith is what allowed John to believe that he really could be the one to baptize the Messiah, whether he believed he was qualified for the job or not. Habakkuk 2.4 says “the righteous shall live by faith,” and Jesus said to John, “it is proper for us in this way to fulfill all righteousness.” Perhaps the point of Jesus’ baptism was to awaken even greater faith in John the Baptist, to fulfill all righteousness in John’s own life and ministry, to create within John the trust and hope that comes from believing that God really is at work within the world.

John the Baptist was called beyond himself, to believe in what Jesus was saying even if it seemed to be beyond anything John had considered possible before. Maybe these “Am I really supposed to do this?” moments are where God calls us most fiercely into new life. What seems beyond us might just be exactly where God is calling us. For John, in that moment, baptizing the Messiah, the Anointed One of God, the matter of greatest importance was the baptism John could give, not the baptism John could receive. And the same could be said for all of us.

The reading from Isaiah this morning is the first of what have come to be known as the “servant songs” from Isaiah. They are traditionally connected with the Messiah, and rightly so, for they paint a picture of one who will undergo great suffering and even death for the sake of God’s name and the benefit of God’s people. But what if we looked at this song this morning and saw ourselves as the ones about whom Isaiah is speaking? What if we had the audacity to trust that we, too, are God’s chosen ones, upheld by God’s power, the delight of God’s soul, a repository of God’s spirit? What if we, too, believed that we are being called beyond ourselves into something greater for the sake of the kingdom of God, which is at hand? Regardless of whether we feel ready, willing and able or not, we are here, today, believing that God might be up to something in our lives. I believe that is precisely the case. I believe that God is here, that God does care about your life and how you live it, that you are the ones God is sending into the world as a covenant to the people, a light to the nations, to open the eyes that are blind. More than that, I believe that God will go with you in this adventure of faith, for in the next chapter Isaiah says, “Do not fear, for I am with you.” As we are called beyond ourselves, sent forth by God in faith and righteousness to serve our neighbor, we are upheld by the power and strength of the One who stretched the heavens across the sky and breathed Spirit into us that we might have life.

In my former synod, we elected a new bishop last June. One of the first things he asked from our entire synod was a spirit of adventure in the years to come. He said, “Let’s get out there and make some really wonderful mistakes.” It takes faith to believe that new things can be good, because there are always missteps in the beginning. You’ve asked me to come and begin a new journey with you, and even though I’m not sure I’m ready, I know that God is here with us, and that is what makes all the difference. You, too, might be feeling the same way. Maybe you’re a senior looking at job prospects, or graduate school, wondering how in the world you’re ever going to make the right choice. Maybe you’re a sophomore, wondering if maybe your major was the right choice, how to recapture the stirrings of your heart’s desire in the midst of term papers and projects. Wherever and however you may feel about the adventure before you, trust and believe that God is with you, that you are not alone. Trust that the moment when you think “Am I really supposed to do this?” might be the moment where God is most fiercely calling you into new life. For the righteous will live by faith, and through believing, you will be righteous, and you will find life in God’s name. Amen.