Tag: baptism of the Lord

Standing in Line with God

On By Rev. Dr. Jarrett BanksIn Sermons Year ALeave a comment

Matthew 3:13-17

No one likes to wait in line, whether it be at the drive thru, the grocery store, the doctor’s office, or even for supper at the church on Wednesday night. When I have been asked: “Preacher, what do you think hell is like?” I have often responded: “I think it’s like waiting in line. It’s like one long, hot crowded line.”

It’s why we go to Busch Gardens on a weekday, make the reservation at our favorite restaurant, and always, always, schedule an appointment with the DMV. It’s why we love the self-checkout lanes at Kroger, online banking, and the ability to pay for our gas at the pump.

That’s why we might find it crazy to discover that this is how Jesus began his public ministry. He doesn’t start with a miracle. He doesn’t open with a prayer or even begin with a sermon. He gets the whole thing started by standing in line.

Matthew tells us that Jesus comes from Galilee to the Jordan to be baptized by John. It’s hard to imagine how long that line was, as we read in verse five that “Jerusalem, and all Judea, and all the region around the Jordan, were going out to John” to be baptized.

I wonder how long Jesus waited in that line—the people he met, the conversations he had.

When Jesus finally gets to the front of the line, John scratches his head. For John knows his role. He knows who Jesus is. And he knows the script saying, “Jesus, this is crazy, you should be baptizing me!”

But Jesus refuses the script: “Let it be so now,” Jesus says, “for it is proper for us in this way to fulfill all righteousness.”

Which is Matthew’s eloquent of saying: “This is how God likes to do things.”

God does not look down on the creation from some lofty throne, watching us from a distance, as Bette Midler used to sing. God gets in line beside us.

The Holy One is not so above us that God has a Fast Pass or Quick Queue, to skip the line, to avoid human suffering. Through baptism, the God of Jesus, wades in the mud and even goes underwater with the people.

And it’s not just any water that Jesus is immersed. It’s the Jordan River. It’s the place where enslaved people once crossed into freedom and Pharaoh’s power was finally broken.

It’s in this historic river that John stands preaching repentance. But not the type of personal repentance you may have learned as a child in Sunday School. Growing up in my Baptist church I was taught that it primarily meant that you didn’t cuss, dance, drink, smoke, or chew, or go with boys and girls who do.

But John was preaching the type of repentance that will get your head served on a silver platter by the King Herods of the world. There, in the historic waters that symbolized the liberation of the Israelites, John was preaching a repentance that names immoral leaders, unjust systems, inequity, violence, and greed.

He calls out economic exploitation. He calls out religious complacency. And he lets all who have been wounded, discounted, or displaced by those in power know that God is on their side.

This is why people from all over the land were lined up that day, and this is why Jesus got in line, and waited his turn to be baptized.

Not to wash away his sins, but to join John’s movement of justice and liberation. And to be counted among those who are desperate, burdened, oppressed, and longing for change. He aligns himself with people who have been told, by empire and by religion alike, that they are the problem.

This is how God likes to do things. This is God refusing to remain aloof, floating somewhere in heaven above history. This is God rejecting a false righteousness that doesn’t dare get its feet muddy and a salvation that skips past suffering. The good news is that Jesus’ baptism is one of solidarity with all who suffer.

And this good news matters right now more than ever.

Because we are living in a moment when the privileged still look down on the poor. They preach responsibility downward while hoarding upward. Violence is accepted, truth is manipulated, and cruelty is justified.

We live in a world where immigrants are blamed instead of welcomed, the poor are shamed instead of protected, military force is justified as necessary instead of exposed as a failure of moral courage, and faith is used to bless it all, instead of denouncing it.

And it is into this moment, the gospel says: Jesus gets in line, steps into the mud, and enters the water. Not above the moment. Not even beside it. But immersed in it.

Baptized in the Jordan, Jesus resists domination by choosing humility.

He resists violence by choosing vulnerability.

He resists hierarchy by choosing to stand in line.

Jesus’ baptism in the Jordan is active, nonviolent, embodied resistance to everything in this world that denies human dignity.

And notice that this is when the heavens open up.

Not when Jesus proves himself with an inspiring sermon.

Not when he performs a miracle that impresses the multitudes.

And not when he conquers anything or anyone.

The heavens open up when Jesus gets in line, stands in the mud, and goes underwater with the people. This is when a voice can be heard: “This is my Son, the Beloved, with whom I am well pleased.”

Before sermons. Before healings. Before confrontations.

Before the cross. Before resurrection.

Before anything. God says, “Beloved.”

This is the foundation of everything that follows in the gospel story. Jesus does not do anything in his life or ministry to earn love, but does everything from love. It is love that informs everything.

And when we forget this, that it is all about love, church can become performance, and working for justice can become a burden. When we forget that it is all about love, we can start confusing violence, and even hate, with being with being faithful.

This is why Jesus’ baptism reminds us that before the work of liberation and justice can begin, belovedness comes first.

Because beloved people don’t need to dominate.
Beloved people don’t need to dehumanize.
Beloved people don’t need to lie or believe the lies to survive.

Beloved people can tell the truth in love.
Beloved people can get in line and stand with the suffering.
And beloved people can resist violence without becoming violent themselves.

This is why the Spirit descends like a dove, and not like an eagle. Not like a sword or a bomb. But like a dove, a symbol of peace, revealing that when we accept our belovedness, we see that nonviolence is the shape of God’s power in the world.

This is why Jesus’ baptism is so important. For we live in a culture addicted another shape of power. We are taught that change only comes through force, domination, punishment, humiliation, and violence.

Jesus’ baptism teaches us that the reign of God on this earth does not advance by threatening and crushing enemies, but happens by creating beloved community. The kingdom does not come through fear, but through love. And the movement of God does not rise by lording over or climbing over bodies, but by getting in line and kneeling beside them.

So, what does this all mean for us, right here, right now?

It means if the church is following the way of the nonviolent Jesus, we cannot remain safe, secluded, and separated from the suffering of this world.

That means we cannot remain dry while the world is drowning.

It means we cannot sing about justice while refusing solidarity with those who experience injustice.

It means we cannot preach love, and not stand in line with people in places of grief, protest, and exhaustion, with poor people bearing the weight of policies that benefit the rich, with immigrants terrorized by the state, or with all those shaken by the killing of Renee Good—a mother, a neighbor, and a beloved human being whose death has rightly unsettled our conscience.

It means we must be willing to go into the waters where any person or group is struggling to breathe and boldly call the principalities and powers of darkness to repent.

And to do this faithfully, to do this nonviolently, we must listen again for that voice: not the voice of fear-mongering politics; not the voice of religious nationalism. But the voice that still speaks over muddy water and trembling bodies, saying: “Beloved.”

“You are my sons, my daughters, my children.”

You are not forgotten.
You are not disposable.
And you are not alone.

I stand with you.

You are important. You matter. You are beloved.

And if we believe in that voice, we will:

resist injustice without surrendering our humanity;
confront lies without becoming cruel;
and build movements rooted not in fear, but in belovedness.

Jesus gets in line, stands in the mud, and goes underwater so that we might rise, not above anyone, but together, side by side.

This is how Jesus says righteousness is fulfilled.

This is how God still does things in this world.

This is how the heavens are opened.

And this is how the world is changed.

So, as we leave this place this morning, the call of the gospel is both simple and demanding: stand in line.

Stand in line for justice when white supremacy still distorts our laws, our stories, and our sense of who belongs.

Stand in line for voting rights when democracy is attacked and weakened.

Stand in line for social justice when whole communities are denied dignity, safety, and opportunity.

Stand in line for equity when systems continue to benefit some while burdening others.

Stand in line against violence, in our streets, in our rhetoric, and in our policies, when force is treated as the answer instead of a failure of moral courage.

And today, we must stand in line in grief, lament, and protest, for Renee Nicole Good, whose life was taken by violence that never should have happened.

We must stand beside all who live in fear in their own homes, with all whose lives are endangered by power, control, and violence, and we must name this system that continues to terrorize and kill our neighbors as sin. We must refuse to be silent and commit ourselves to work for a world where such violence has no refuge.

We stand in line not above people, not ahead of people, but with people, all the people, especially those who have been pushed to the margins, silenced, or told to wait their turn.

We step in the mud and stand in line in, even when the line is long, even when they call us crazy, even if it feels like hell.

Because when we stand in line like Jesus did, we discover that this is where God stills shows up.

This where the heavens still open up.

This is where love is still heard

And this is the only way the world can still be changed.

Amen.

You Are God’s Beloved

On By Rev. Dr. Jarrett BanksIn Sermons Year CLeave a comment

Luke 3:15-17, 21-22 NRSV

I often wonder where it all went wrong. How did it get so bad? Of course, I am talking about Christianity. Why did it become so mean, so hateful, and so ugly? If following the way of love that Jesus taught, modeled, and embodied, is the road we should be traveling, many Christians not only seem to be off track, but they seem to be going in the exact opposite direction.

It’s like, instead of going home by another way, the wise men went back to King Herod and collaborated with the empire, and for the sake of wealth, power, cheap eggs and gas, told the King exactly where he could find the boy Jesus and exterminate him.

Because it’s like many have never heard any of the stories of Jesus. How he with his parents fled violence as refugees in Egypt. How he grew up to lead a revolutionary movement of non-violence resisting the powers that be. How he called out their corruption, their greed, and their lust for power. How he was a radical advocate and ally for anyone who was marginalized by the culture or by sick religion. How he challenged systems of injustice that hurt women, alienated foreigners, demeaned Eunuchs, and were blind to the needs of the poor.

         It’s like some Christians today have not just misinterpreted the gospel but have rewritten it for their own self-interest.

         I often wonder if part of the problem is the way it was all introduced and explained to me in the first place. For years, every Sunday, I heard the same message. I was born into this world a lowly sinner and because of that sin, I was separated by God and would be punished by God for all of eternity, unless I did something about it, namely accepting Jesus as my personal Lord and Savior, and then getting baptized to wash all my sins away.

         I would go home from church almost every Sunday feeling absolutely rotten, worthless, dirty, unloved. Well, one day after church, when I was ten years old, I had had enough. I was tired of all the guilt, so I told my parents that I wanted to be baptized. I wanted to get clean. I wanted God to love me.

They told me that I needed to pick up the telephone and call the preacher and tell him that I wanted to be baptized, which I did. On the phone, he said he would come over to my house later in the week to talk to me about it.

I remember sitting outside on the patio with him when he said something like: “Jarrett, were all born into this world separated by God because of sin. But God loves us very much.”

I must have had a confused look on my face, or he must have thought I was a tad on the slow side, because that was when he got out a spiral notebook, opened it up, and began drawing me a picture.

He drew what first looked like the logo for McDonalds, but then he said, “It’s like there’s these two mountains.” He wrote my name on one mountain and the word “God” on the other mountain. He called the space in between the mountains “a valley,” and there wrote the word “sin.”  He said, God is here on this mountain, but you are way over here on this other mountain, and sin is the valley that separates you.

Then he drew a bridge connecting the mountains and writing the word “Jesus” under the bridge, he said: “But God loves you and sent Jesus, who never sinned, to die on the cross, to be a bridge so you can cross over the valley to be on the side with God.”

He then asked me: “Jarrett, don’t you want to be on the mountain with God?”

I thought to myself: “Or stay on this other mountain and one day go to hell forever? Nah, I think I’ll take that bridge, thank you very much.”

He said: “Jarrett, when you are baptized, it is a way of saying that you believe Jesus died for you on the cross and rose again, and it is like you are crossing the bridge, to be with God. When you are baptized your sins are washed away. Your sins are forgiven, so they no longer separate you from God.”

“Well, how fast can I get baptized?” was my reply.

But later, I had questions. I had lots of questions. The main one was: “If God loves us so much why did God put us on the wrong mountain in the first place? Why did God create us as sinners? And: “If God really loves us, why would God threaten to punish us for all of eternity if we do not choose to be with God and get baptized?”

But whenever I would raise such questions, I would get this convoluted response about free will, that God only wants people who choose to love God to be with God.”

And if I replied: “Well, that sure doesn’t sound like a very good and loving God to me, as that sounds like God only loves people who love God back.”

It was then I got: “Jarrett, it is not for us to question it, but to just believe it.”

But all of this would lead to even more questions, like: “If Jesus was perfect and never sinned, and if baptism is about having your sins forgiven and washed away, why did Jesus get baptized? Surely Jesus wasn’t separated from God? Right?”

“Of course not,” I thought “Because he wasn’t a sinner. And sin is what separates us from God. And there was this vision at Jesus’ baptism of heaven being opened wide, the Holy Spirit descending in the form of a dove, and this voice from heaven saying the most beautiful words, words that are the antithesis of: “You are a sinner, separated or cut off from God”— “You are my Child, the Beloved; with you I am well pleased.”

So, why was Jesus baptized?

The answer that I most heard, even in seminary, was that by getting baptized in the manner we are encouraged to be baptized, Jesus was “identifying” with us. Jesus was becoming like us.

I was taught that this was the scandalous good news of the incarnation. That God identified with us poor sinners. That God, the source and essence of all that is, became flesh, became one of us.

That may be sound theology, but what if it is actually the other way around? What if got it completely backwards, or at least, there is much more to it?

Early church theologian Athanasius, put it this way: Jesus became one of us, so that we might become like him.

Instead of Jesus being baptized like us, maybe it’s more like we are baptized like Jesus.

For isn’t that the goal of every disciple, to be like Jesus?

Maybe we have misunderstood the nature of baptism, because we have misunderstood the whole notion of this thing we call forgiveness.

For how many of us were taught that we are sinners, separated from God, and need to be forgiven, to have those sins washed away in order to be named as one of God’s beloved children? Instead of being taught the exact opposite: that because we already are God’s beloved children, God forgives us? How many of us were taught that forgiveness is a condition to receive God’s love, instead of being taught that forgiveness is the result of God’s love?

We need forgiveness, only the most depraved believe they don’t need, and Baptism is indeed about forgiveness, but baptism is primarily about love. Baptism is about affirmation. Baptism is about a holy covenant, an intimate relationship. It is about our sacred identity as children of God. And forgiveness is a by-product of that identity.

When Jesus is baptized, Jesus hears God say these incredibly important words of love, affirmation, and identity: “You are my Son, the Beloved; with you I am well pleased.” And the good news is that when we are baptized or when we remember our Baptisms or our confirmations, we are to hear the same thing: “You are my child, my beloved, and with you I am well pleased.”

Like Jesus’ baptism, when we are baptized, whether we were infants, children, or adults, God promises God’s unconditional love for us. God calls us, names us, and claims us as God’s beloved children.[i]

Think of how different this world would be today if more people understood this. That everyone, regardless of their religion, or lack of religion, believed that every human being is a beloved child of God.

I can’t help but to believe that it would turn the world upside down, and Christianity back right-side up.

There would be more less meanness and more kindness, less inequality and more justice, less blame and more responsibility, less judgment and more grace, less indifference and more empathy, less violence and more peace, and less fear and more love.

So, this morning, I am not sure who needs to hear it. Perhaps we all need to hear it. Even if we have heard it before or have always believed it, we need to hear it again and again and again.

So, let’s listen carefully to the word of God. For the heavens are wide open. There is no separation between heaven and the earth. The Holy Spirit is descending, and God is speaking—in the quietness of an evening snowfall in the laughter of children playing in the snow—in the solitude of a morning walk, or in a raucous crowd watching a basketball game—lying in bed on a cold Sunday morning, on sitting on a pew in a sanctuary—listen, there is no separation between God and the earth.

You were not born on the wrong mountain because there is only one holy mountain.

There is no separation between God and “you.” There has never been, and there never will anything on heaven or on earth that separates you. Did you hear that? “You.” “You” is such a powerful world, especially in the second-person singular. When someone says, “you,” they see you. They have identified you. And this “You” is coming from God. Do you hear it? Listen carefully. Block out everything else. Listen to the creator and essence of the universe:

“You are my beloved child. And with you, I am well pleased.[ii]

[i] Inspired and adapted from David Lose https://www.davidlose.net/2019/01/the-baptism-of-our-lord-c-forgiveness-and-so-much-more/

[ii] Inspired and adapted from Karoline Lewis https://www.workingpreacher.org/dear-working-preacher/the-power-of-you

Ripping Open the Heavens

On By Rev. Dr. Jarrett BanksIn Sermons Year B, UncategorizedLeave a comment

Mark 1:4-11 NRSV  Dove

If you were to ask me what my favorite part church is, I would say that it the service of Christian baptism. I have always said that it is a good day when the preacher comes to church on Sunday with a Bible in one hand and a bathing suit in the other.

Thus, I love this day on the Christian calendar that we call The Baptism of the Lord. Although I would much rather be getting wet this morning, and getting some of you even wetter, this day at least gives me the opportunity to reflect on the wonderful service of baptism.

Baptism is about is essentially about grace. Baptism is about new beginnings, fresh starts, and clean slates. Baptism is about dying to the old, broken self and rising to a new, better self. Baptism is about the confession, forgiveness and washing away of sins. It is about coming to know that there’s nothing in heaven or on earth that can ever separate us from the love of God. Baptism is about knowing God is with us, not away from us, for us, not against us.

Baptism is about initiation into the Kingdom of God. Baptism is a commissioning to be the body of Christ in this world, the hands, legs, feet and mind of Jesus on this earth. There is a reason that baptism is often called a sacrament. Baptism is sacred. It is holy. It is grace, free and unfettered.

There is perhaps nothing in the church that is more beautiful than baptism. How ironic is it then that some in the church have taken baptism and have created something very ugly. Throughout church history, baptism has created more controversy, schisms and arguments than perhaps any else.

Throughout my own ministry, I have seen people angrily walk out of church meetings over it. I have even seen people who have transferred their membership to another church over it. I know people who have written nasty emails, made harassing phone calls, and started vicious rumors—all over arguments about baptism. I know of churches that have even split over baptism.

I have had staff members threaten to resign if we changed our church’s bylaws to accept members who were baptized by sprinkling. In their eyes, they simply did not get wet enough to join God’s Kingdom. I have heard people argue that some were not old enough, mature enough, good enough, sincere enough, or even married enough to be baptized.  A pastor friend of mine from Concord, North Carolina, was kicked out of the Baptist State Convention because a couple of folks he baptized were not straight enough. I even know people who have gotten upset, because the people being baptized in their church were not white enough.

The irony is that we have taken something beautiful that is essentially about God’s free and unfettered grace for all people, and created something incredibly ugly by placing restrictions, limitations and conditions on it. There have been more rules and regulations written in the bylaws of churches about baptism than any other service of the church.

Some churches believe that you can only baptize in a flowing creek or a river (the water has to be moving) because that was how Jesus was baptized. A stagnant pond, lake, and of course, a baptismal pool will simply not do. Some people believe you can only baptize when the church is gathered for a worship service. And most people believe that a baptism can only be performed by an ordained minister, who is, of course a male.

And once a person’s baptism has been accepted and approved, sanctioned by church officials as worthy of the grace of God, then one can use his or her baptism as an admission ticket to become a full-fledged member of the church. They can take communion, serve on a committee, become a voting member of the church board, and of course, one day, go to heaven.

Pastor Karoline Lewis once preached a sermon to her congregation emphasizing that baptism is not something that we do, but something that God does. She said that when we baptize someone in the name of God, we believe that it is God who is actually doing the baptizing. And she insinuated that when we make baptism something that we do, that we control, then we pervert the very intentions God has baptism.

After the sermon, a woman who was in her nineties approached her. “Karoline,” she said, “Is that really true?”

“What?” the pastor answered.

Hazel responded, “That God baptizes you.”

“Yes, it’s true. This is what we believe. Why?”

Hazel then told her about her sister who was born several years before she was born. Her sister was born very ill in the home and never left the house because she was so sick. The family knew she would not live long. She only lived two months. Right before she died, Hazel says that her mother took her sister into her arms and lovingly baptized her.

When Hazel’s parents went to the pastor of their church where they had been lifelong members to plan the funeral, the pastor refused to hold the funeral in the sanctuary because he had not baptized the baby. The funeral was held in the basement of the church.

Hazel, almost a hundred years later, then asked her pastor, “Karoline, does this mean my sister is OK? Is she really OK?”

“Yes,” she said. “Your sister is OK.”

There was Hazel standing in front of her pastor, weeping for the sister she never knew, crying tears of relief and grace.

This is what happens, says Karoline, this is the ugly consequences of placing limitations on the grace of God.

Of course, such restrictions and limitations on God’s grace is nothing new. The Jewish law was full of rules and regulations controlling who can and who cannot have access to God. Throughout history people of all cultures have sought to control and tame the grace of God.

This is why we need to be reminded of Jesus’ baptism. First of all, it did not occur in a controlled environment such as a baptismal pool or font in the confines of a religious building, but out in the untamed, wide-open wilderness.

And we are told that when Jesus came up out of the water the heavens were suddenly “ripped” or “torn” apart. The imagery describes a God who cannot take the separation any longer. God has had all that God can stand and rips the heavens apart.

The question for us this morning is: If the heavens were closed, whod do you think closed them? Who placed the restrictions and limitations on God’s grace? Who placed the barriers between God and people? Who created systems and structures to mediate God’s presence? Who is it that has insisted on certain rituals and beliefs to regulate God’s grace, to control God’s love, not for the sake of good order (like we tell ourselves and those we wish to exclude), but for the sake of our own power?

As a minister, I could write a book about the trouble I have gotten myself into over the years for baptizing people outside the controlled confines of the church’s bylaws. I have baptized people on days other than Sundays in places other than church buildings. I have baptized people in rivers, in swimming pools, in small ponds, even in the Atlantic Ocean. I baptized one man with his head laid back in the basin of a sink at a nursing home, trusting that it is God, and not me, who is actually doing the baptizing. It is God, and not me, who rips the heavens apart to shower God’s people with grace.

This is why I honor, respect and accept all baptisms—sprinkling, dunking, pouring, infant, adolescent and adult. And I believe baptisms can be performed by any Christian, clergy or laity, male or female. I do not believe people ever need to be re-baptized because some self-appointed or otherwise-appointed baptismal authority believes their baptism somehow did not “take,” failed to meet certain clerical requirements, or was not sincere enough or wet enough. There is but one Church, one Lord, one faith, and one baptism.

This is of course the reason why I welcome all people to the Lord’s Table, because, well, the last time I checked, it’s the Lord’s Table. While some ministers only extend the invitation to those who have been baptized a certain way, I cannot, nor can I imagine Jesus turning anyone away.

When we take a something as beautiful as the service of baptism as it was performed in the wide-open wilderness, with God ripping apart the heavens to get to God’s Son, to get to God’s people, to reveal God’s love and grace to the world, and we turn it into something that is restrictive, legalistic, divisive and exclusive, into some sort of qualifying test for membership, communion, and salvation, then we have missed the whole point of who God is and who we are called to be as God’s Church.

However, when we begin to understand that at our baptisms, whether we were a tiny infant or a grown adult, whether we were sprinkled, dunked or poured upon, whether by clergy or by laity, by male or by female…

When we begin to understand that God, the creator of all that is, ripped open the heavens at our baptisms to come close enough to us so we could feel God’s breath and hear God say: “I love you. I have always loved you. And there is nothing that can ever limit, restrict, tame or constrain this love. There is nothing in heaven or on earth that will ever separate you from this love. I know all of your shortcomings, and I forgive you. I am with you, and I will always be with you. You are my beloved daughter. You are my beloved son. You are my Church. You have the grace and the power to be my hands and feet in this world!” …

When we understand this good news, then our baptisms become what they were always intended to be: free, unfettered, abundant grace, and then we can begin to be the people we were intended to be.

Thank you, God, for blessing us with memories of Jesus’ baptism and ours. Thank you for removing all of the things we have created to separate us from your grace. Help us to go forth with your calling, direction and blessing to share this grace with all people. Amen.

 

Commissioning and Benediction

Go now into the world remembering that God, the creator of all that is, has ripped the heavens apart to shower all God’s people with grace. Go and share this good news with all people. May the abundant love of God, the unfettered grace of Christ, and the communion of the Holy Spirit be with us all. Amen.

 

Baptism by Fire

On By Rev. Dr. Jarrett BanksIn Sermons Year B1 Comment

baptism debate

Mark 1:9-11 NRSV

If you were to ask me what my favorite part church is, I would say that it the service of Christian baptism. I have always said that it is a good day when the preacher comes to church on Sunday with a Bible in one hand and a bathing suit and pair of dry underwear in the other.

Thus, I love this day on the Christian calendar that we call The Baptism of the Lord. Although I would much rather be getting wet this morning, and getting some of you even wetter, this day at least gives me the opportunity to reflect on the wonderful service of baptism.

Baptism is essentially about grace. Baptism is about new beginnings, fresh starts, and clean slates. Baptism is about dying to the old, broken self and rising to a new, better self. Baptism is about the confession, forgiveness and washing away of sins. It is about coming to know that there’s nothing in heaven or on earth that can ever separate us from the love of God. Baptism is about knowing God is with us, not away from us, for us, not against us. Thus, baptism is about living with a hope that is certain and eternal.

Baptism is about initiation into the Kingdom of God. Baptism is a commissioning to be the body of Christ in this world, the hands, legs, feet and mind of Jesus on this earth. There is a reason that baptism is often called a sacrament. Baptism is sacred. It is holy. It is grace, pure and unfettered.

There is perhaps nothing in the church that is more beautiful than baptism. How ironic is it then that some in the church have taken baptism and have created something very ugly. Throughout church history, baptism has created more controversy, schisms and arguments than perhaps any other ritual, service or rite.

Throughout my own ministry, I have seen people angrily walk out of church meetings over it. I have even seen people who have transferred their membership to another church over it. I know people who have written nasty emails, made harassing phone calls, and started vicious rumors—all over arguments about baptism. I know of churches that have even split over baptism.

I have had staff members threaten to resign if we changed our church’s bylaws to accept members who were baptized as infants or by sprinkling. In their eyes, they simply did not get wet enough to join God’s Kingdom. I have heard people argue that some were not old enough, mature enough, good enough, sincere enough, or even married enough to be baptized. A pastor friend of mine from Concord, North Carolina, was kicked out of the Baptist State Convention because a couple of folks he baptized were not straight enough. I even know people who have gotten upset, because the people being baptized in their church were not white enough.

The irony is that we have taken something beautiful that is essentially about God’s free and unfettered grace for all people, and created something incredibly ugly by placing restrictions, limitations and conditions on it. There have been more rules and regulations written in the bylaws of churches about baptism than any other service of the church.

Some churches believe that you can only baptize in a flowing creek or a river (the water has to be moving) because that was how Jesus was baptized. A stagnant pond, lake, and of course, a baptismal pool will simply not do. Some people believe you can only baptize when the church is gathered for a worship service. And most people believe that a baptism can only be performed by an ordained minister, who is, of course a male.

And once a person’s baptism has been accepted and approved, sanctioned by church officials as worthy of the grace of God, then one can use his or her baptism as an admission ticket to become a full-fledged member of the church. They can take communion, serve on a committee, become a voting member of the church board, and of course, one day, go to heaven.

Pastor Karoline Lewis once preached a sermon to her congregation emphasizing that baptism is not something that we do, but something that God does. She said that when we baptize someone in the name of God, we believe that it is God who is actually doing the baptizing. And she insinuated that when we make baptism something that we do, that we control, that we place limits and restrictions on, we pervert the very intentions God has for baptism, for God’s grace can never constrained.

After the sermon, a woman who was in her nineties approached her. “Karoline,” she said, “Is that really true?”

“What?” the pastor answered.

Hazel responded, “That God baptizes you.”

“Yes, it’s true. This is what we believe. Why?”

Hazel then told her pastor about her sister who was born several years before she was born. Her sister was born very ill in the home and never left the house because she was so sick. The family knew she would not live long. She lived about two months. Right before she died, Hazel says that her mother took her sister in her arms and lovingly baptized her.

When Hazel’s parents went to the pastor of their church where they had been lifelong members to plan the funeral, the pastor refused to hold the funeral in the sanctuary because he had not baptized the baby. The funeral was held in the basement of the church.

Hazel, almost a hundred years later, then asked her pastor, “Karoline, does this mean my sister is OK? Is she really OK?”

“Yes,” she said. “Your sister is OK.”

There was Hazel standing in front of her pastor, weeping for the sister she never knew, crying tears of relief and grace.

This is what happens, says Karoline, this is the ugly consequences restricting, placing limitations on the grace of God.

Of course, such restrictions and limitations on God’s grace is nothing new. The Jewish law was full of rules and regulations controlling who can and who cannot have access to God. Throughout history people of all cultures have sought to control and tame the grace of God.

This is why we need to be reminded of Jesus’ baptism. First of all, it was not in a controlled environment such as a baptismal pool or font in the confines of a religious hall, but out in the untamed, wide-open wilderness.

And we are told that when Jesus came up out of the water, that the heavens, according to some translations, were suddenly opened. Now there is a Greek word for open, but that word is not used in Mark 1:9. The word that is used means “ripped” or “torn” apart. The word describes a God who cannot take the separation any longer. God has had about all that God could stand and rips the heavens apart.

The question for us this morning is: who closed the heavens? Who placed the restrictions and limitations on God’s grace? Who placed the barriers between God and humanity? Who creates systems and structures to mediate God’s presence? Insist on rituals and formalities to regulate God’s grace, control the means of God’s love, not for the sake of good order (like we would like to think), but for the sake of our own power?

As a minister I cannot begin to tell you the amount of trouble I have gotten myself into over the years for baptizing people outside the controlled confines of the church’s bylaws. I have baptized people on days other than Sundays in places other than the church building. I have baptized people in rivers, in swimming pools, in small ponds, even in the Atlantic Ocean. I baptized one man with his head laid back in the basin of a sink at a nursing home, trusting that it is God, and not me, who is actually doing the baptizing. It is God, and not me, who rips the heavens apart to shower God’s people with grace.

For the same reason, I honor, respect and accept all baptisms—sprinkling, dunking, pouring, infant, adolescent and adult. And I believe baptisms can be performed by any Christian, clergy or laity, male or female. I do not believe people ever need to be re-baptized because some self-appointed or otherwise-appointed baptismal authority believes their baptism somehow did not “take,” failed to meet certain clerical requirements, or was not sincere enough or wet enough. There is but one Church, one Lord, one faith, and one baptism.

With Karoline Lewis and other ministers who understand that expansive abundance of God’s grace, I welcome all people to the Lord’s Table, because, well, the last time I checked, it’s the Lord’s Table. While some ministers only extend the invitation to those who have been baptized a certain way, I cannot, nor can I imagine Jesus turning anyone away.

What are we going to do? Require baptismal ID cards to be presented to the deacons before receiving communion? Are we to say to those who have not been baptized or not sure they have been baptized: “Sorry, you sitting there in the pew wondering if you have been baptized or not. When the plate of bread and tray of juice come to you, don’t take anything. Just politely pass it to the more worthy person sitting next to you who has the official seal of approval? Because, here at First Self-Righteous Church, we believe it is better to hedge our bets on the side of human reason and control rather than God’s abundant and unfettered grace.”[i]

When we take something as beautiful as the service of baptism as it was performed in the wide-open wilderness, with God ripping apart the heavens to get to God’s Son, to get to God’s people, to reveal God’s love and grace to the world, and we turn it into something that is restrictive, legalistic, divisive and exclusive, some sort of qualifying test for membership, communion, and salvation, then we have missed the whole point of who God is and who we are called to be as God’s Church.

However, when we begin to understand that at our baptisms, whether we were a tiny infant or a grown adult, whether we were sprinkled, dunked or poured upon, whether by clergy or by laity, male or female—When we understand that God, the creator of all that is, ripped open the heavens to come close enough to us so we could feel God’s breath and hear God say: “I love you. I have always loved you. And there is nothing that can ever limit, restrict or constrain this love. There is nothing in heaven or on earth that will ever separate you from this love. I know all of your shortcomings and all of your sins, and I forgive you. I am with you, and I will always be with you. You are my beloved son. You are my beloved daughter. You are my Church in this world”—When we understand this truth, this good news, then our baptisms become what they were always intended to be: pure, unfettered, abundant grace, and we can live with a hope that is as eternal as it is certain.

[i] Sermon inspired by: Karoline Lewis, Baptism of Our Lord, https://www.workingpreacher.org