[Propertalk] The First Step: Matthew 3:13-17 - from GoodPreacher.com

[Joe Parrish]

from GoodPreacher.com


      The First Step: Matthew 3:13-17


      We do not think about it much, but for most of us, one of the things that brings us here today is that we were baptized. Some were baptized because you turned seven years old and decided that you were sick and tired of not getting to drink the grape juice. A few were baptized because your little sister got baptized and your mother kept pointing out that she was your little sister. Some went to a worship service where the minister made you cry. You felt God calling you to walk the aisle, and if you walk the aisle you get baptized. Some of you are grateful that you were baptized as an infant. Some of you were baptized as an infant, and do not think about it much. Some of you have never been baptized because you have never seen any reason why you should. Some of you have not been baptized and do not know why you have not. Some of you have not been baptized, but you have had to work hard to avoid seriously considering it. 

      I was baptized when I was eight years old, in part, because my best friend and next-door neighbor, Craig, who was nine years old, had decided to be baptized. I did not think people should think that he was more Christian than I was. The Sunday after I walked the aisle, my third grade nemesis, Terri, who was always Lucy to my Charlie Brown, decided that she would be baptized, too. Terri bragged that she would be baptized before I was because they always baptize girls first. She sneered at me just before she went under the water. 

      The first person I baptized was Keith. He was a third grader. I was a college sophomore-about ten years too young to be the pastor of any church no matter how small. Keith and I talked about his baptism at least a half dozen times. I went over it with Keith's parents. We discussed every imaginable possibility, or so I thought. They all somehow managed to forget to mention Keith's fear of water. I did not find out about this fear until I saw it in his eyes as he stood at the edge of the baptistery. I reached out and led him down the steps slowly. I spoke the words of baptism, put my hand on his back, and waited for him to lean back. He did not move. I pulled on his shirt. He still did not move. He had no plans to move. I finally put my left hand on his shoulder to ever so gently push him under. He showed his first sign of life. He did not want to be pushed ever so gently under. There is a small spot on the top of Keith's head that never got wet. I am sure there are Baptist churches that pride themselves on being one hundred percent immersed and where Keith's baptism would be at least five percent unacceptable. 

      It is good that we learn the meaning of our baptisms after the fact. Most of us did not fully know what we were doing on the day we were baptized. It is years later, as we make our way slowly into faith that the purpose begins to unfold. We discover what our baptisms mean after the event rather than before. That is how it was for Jesus, too. 

      In Matthew's Gospel the story skips from Jesus as an infant to Jesus as a thirty-year-old without a clue as to what happened in between. One day Jesus puts down his hammer, takes off his tool belt, hangs a "closed" sign on the door of the carpenter's shop and asks, "What does God want of me?" He heads south and finds his cousin John, smelling of locust and honey, standing in the muddy Jordan in his camel hair baptismal robe. Jesus gets in line and waits his turn. He wades out into the water, right next to real live sinners like you and me. 

      While three gospels tell the story of Jesus' baptism, only Matthew records the curious conversation prior to the baptism. Jesus is eager to be baptized, but John hesitates. They stand hip-deep in the river and engage in a fervent, theological debate as to who should baptize whom. The first time that Jesus speaks in Matthew's Gospel, it is to say that he needs to be baptized, because baptism will help him learn who he is meant to be. Jesus leans back into the water because he believes that God is calling him to a different kind of life. 

      When Jesus rises, the waters of the Jordan dripping into his face, he sees the Spirit descending like a dove to rest upon his soggy head. The Spirit comes not as an all-consuming fire of judgment, but with the flutter of hopeful wings. A voice says: "You are my child. I love you. I'm delighted with you." 

      Then Jesus goes into the desert for forty days to think about what it means to be God's child. Jesus spends all the days and years that follow that afternoon in the Jordan discovering the meaning of his baptism. 

      Paul Tillich said that Jesus is the only one who has been completely true to the voice he heard at his baptism. Jesus gave everything-his dreams and deeds, his labors and his life itself. Jesus gave himself to God's people, took his place with hurting people. Baptism was Jesus' commissioning to ministry. 

      During the week before his death, the leaders of the temple challenged Jesus: "By what authority do you do these things?" Jesus answered with a reference to his baptism: "Was the baptism of John from heaven or not? I was baptized. That's why I do the things I do." In the waters of baptism, Jesus heard the Spirit calling him to speak the truth and live with grace. 

      So Jesus does not die of old age. He dies because he takes his baptism seriously. When Jesus cried on the cross, "It is finished" it was his baptism that was complete.

      Matthew's account of Jesus' baptism was first read in a church where some of the people had been baptized years earlier, but did not think about it very much. There were many who had never been baptized, and as they listened to the story, they thought about what being baptized would say about who they wanted to be. There were a few who had been baptized, but at the time it did not mean much. Now as they looked back they could see that it was the beginning of everything. 

      Baptisms, like most beginnings, find their meaning long after the event. Starting, by itself, is often of little consequence. Beginning is usually easy. Finishing is often hard. Bobby Knight, the retired basketball coach, and not a person most preachers quote in sermons, was asked about a player who was doing a great job coming off the bench, "When will he get to start?" Coach Knight responded: "You don't understand the game. It doesn't matter who starts. It matters who finishes." 

      A month before the wedding, glassy-eyed couples tell the minister that they are the perfect pair. One of the joys of ministry is getting to tell them: "You get no points for getting this far. On your wedding day almost every couple is capable of creating a life together filled with faith, hope and joy, and almost every couple is capable of creating something more horrifying than your worst nightmare." Marriages cannot be judged on the wedding day. In ten years you just start to see what they have done with it. What does it mean to get married? Sometimes the meaning is found in pictures of strangely attired bridesmaids and ill at ease groomsmen. More often it is discovered as you sit together at the dinner table.

      Beginning is usually easier than finishing. Any husband can stand in the delivery room, give his wife ice chips and say, "You're doing great, honey." Every father looks good holding a newborn. You cannot judge fathers in the maternity ward. In twenty years you start to see how hard they have worked at it. What does it mean when a child is born? Sometimes the importance is glimpsed by looking at a baby book. More often it is discovered in conversations that take place in the car on the way to school. 

      Beginning is easier than finishing. Depending on which study you read, the average tenure for a pastor in the United States is three to four years. That is embarrassing for churches and ministers. In many of those situations, the congregation and/or the pastor too quickly decide that they need a new start when they have never lived out the promise of the old start.

      The significance of any decision takes a while. It does not take nearly as much to decide to be a friend as it takes to actually be a friend. Moments of initiation are meaningless until we are true to the promise of that beginning.

      We too quickly think that what we need is a new start. Our culture has an insatiable appetite for new things, but we can add a thousand new things without it meaning anything. "What's new?" is not a bad question, but if we constantly pursue only what is new the result is an endless parade of trivia. We ought to be consumed with the question, "What's best?" We spend too much of our lives looking for the new without really exploring the old. We do not need new beginnings nearly so much as we need to make sense of the old beginnings.

      Some of the people who think they need a new job need to fulfill the promise of their old job. What did it mean when you took your job? The job description they handed you before your first day may not mean much. The real significance is found every Monday morning. We may not need new starts. We may need to fulfill the old ones.

      Baptism is a beginning, the prologue to a book waiting to be written. Introductions are not enough by themselves.

      Every once in a while someone will ask to be re-baptized. They say something like: "I was sincere when I was baptized, but then I drifted away. I want to start again." Most of the time the best response is: "The problem is not with your baptism. Your beginning was fine. You need to live out what you've already started."

      We are handed a map, but then we have to take the trip. It takes our whole life to finish the journey we begin when we're baptized. When Martin Luther was tempted to give up on following Christ, he would sit in his study and recite, almost as a mantra: "I am baptized. I am baptized. I am baptized." 

      What does it mean to us to live out our baptisms? If we are true to our baptisms, we cannot make ourselves comfortable, cannot do only what will be appreciated, and cannot be satisfied with the way things are. Our baptisms demand that we struggle with what's right and what's wrong, what's important and what's not. 

      The children of God tell the truth in a world that lies, give in a world that takes, love in a world that lusts, make peace in a world that fights, serve in a world that wants to be served, pray in a world that waits to be entertained, and take chances in a world that worships safety. The baptized are citizens of an eccentric community where financial success is not the goal, security is not the highest good, and sacrifice is a daily event.

      Baptism is our ordination to ministry, our vow to live with more concern for the hurting than for our own comfort, and our promise to take issue with ideas with which everyone else agrees. Baptism is the commitment to share our time with the poor and listen to the lonely. 

      What did it mean when we were baptized? For those of us who were baptized as older children or adults, it might be helpful to remember what we thought, felt, and did on that day. However, the meaning of our baptism is seen more clearly in what we think, feel, and do this day. "Is there anything we should do differently today since we are baptized?" We are forever answering the question, "Why am I baptized?"

      Brett Younger

      McAfee School of Theology

      Atlanta, GA


      www.GoodPreacher.com


     
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