The Water's Fine

“Come on in, the water’s fine.” I can’t tell you how many times I’ve heard that over the years. From my swimming instructor as a young girl who when I didn’t listen, would just throw me in. At my best friend’s pool behind her house after school. On the shores of Orange Beach before an ocean roaring and a red flag out. On a dock in the ocean outside of the Cayman Islands. In a hot tub on the deck of a cabin. From my oldest daughter screaming as she jumped in behind our house. People were always telling me the water is fine. Come on in. Take a leap.

Before Jesus entered the scene of his baptism (some 30 years after his birth) John is calling for people to repent and get their life straight with God. He tells them he is baptizing with water for repentance but there is One coming, One coming who is so great that John isn’t even worthy enough to tie his sandals. This One will bring a new baptism, a baptism of the Spirit and of fire.

But for now, John is in the water dunking one after the other. I imagine this long line of people wading in. I imagine John standing and placing his hands gently behind their heads. Lowering. Raising. Lowering. Raising. Splash. The water is fine.

And then he takes a man’s hands perhaps before he has a chance to meet his gaze. And he looks up and sees Jesus. Jesus, the One he had been talking about all this time. He had gotten in the water with him.

“Phew, now he can finally take over” John might have been thinking. But Jesus wasn’t there to take over. He was there to have John baptize him.

What? You? This doesn’t make any sense. No. I’m the one who needs to be baptized. But not you! You have nothing to repent of. This water isn’t for you. You come to me to be baptized!

But Jesus says it has to be this way. This is how it has to be. I have to get in the water with you. I too have to be baptized. Jesus is God with us from beginning to end. He doesn’t skip a step. He gets in the water.

I imagine John felt honored but also uncomfortable, his hands holding the head of the God-man. The truth is, we would rather have baptism be comfortable. Eric Peterson tells the story of how as a pastor he had begun to master the infant baptism, dubbed as the child-whisperer. He went to great lengths to make sure the baby didn’t cry. He would spend time with the baby ahead of time so the child was familiar with his face and his voice. He would practice the passing off from the parents to himself. He would even warm the water ahead of time so it felt more like a bath. It was all about keeping things comfortable.

On one Sunday, Eric had done all of these things but the precious little girl began to fuss and escalate. Afterwards, a colleague of his came up to him and told him the story of witnessing a baptism at a Russian Orthodox service in which he watched the priest immerse a naked infant three times in a font of cold water. As you might expect, she screamed some of the paint off the ceiling. Talk about taking the polar plunge. Afterwards, this colleague went up to the grandmother of the child saying surely there is a better way to administer the sacrament. In her thick Russian accent she said, “Oh no! If the baby did not cry, the priest would pinch him until he did. When babies are first born; the best sound to hear is the cry. It means they are breathing, alive, healthy. Baptism is a birthing.” (Wade in the Water).

Baptism is a birthing. Today marks the baptism of our Lord, the birth of Jesus’ ministry and the marking of Jesus as God’s son. When Jesus came up from the waters, the heavens opened and the Spirit of God landed on Jesus like a dove. Suddenly the muddy water became holy water.

Then the voice of God proclaimed “This is my Son, the Beloved, with whom I am well pleased.”

Notice how God didn’t call Jesus by his proper name. He called him Son. He referenced their relationship. Then he called him Beloved and said that he was well pleased.

This happened before the wilderness. This happened before the healings and the miracles. This happened before his death and resurrection.

God was pleased with Jesus before. God begins with beloved.

So often we call people by a lot of different names other than beloved. We look at people through the lens of hurt and bias and assumptions and grudges. Or we give ourselves names that are less than we are: ugly, unworthy, dumb, and inadequate.

But what if today we start where God starts? There is a theory that water has memory, that somehow it remembers what it comes into contact with, almost like it holds and tells a story. When we remember our baptism, we celebrate the Spirit of God who hovered over the waters. We remember the God who parted the seas. We remember God starting with beloved.

Whatever this year holds, beloved is where we start. Whatever anyone else tries to tell you, beloved is where you begin. This is your name, your choseness, your identity in Christ. As Eric Peterson says, “how we begin affects who we become.” And we begin with beloved.

Jan Richardson has a beautiful blessing entitled “Beloved is Where We Begin.” It goes like this.

If you would enter

into the wilderness,

do not begin

without a blessing.

Do not leave

without hearing

who you are:

Beloved,

named by the One

who has traveled this path

before you.

Do not go

without letting it echo

in your ears,

and if you find

it is hard

to let it into your heart,

do not despair.

That is what

this journey is for.

I cannot promise

this blessing will free you

from danger,

from fear,

from hunger

or thirst,

from the scorching

of sun

or the fall

of the night.

But I can tell you

that on this path

there will be help.

I can tell you

that on this way

there will be rest.

I can tell you

that you will know

the strange graces

that come to our aid

only on a road

such as this,

that fly to meet us

bearing comfort

and strength,

that come alongside us

for no other cause

than to lean themselves

toward our ear

and with their

curious insistence

whisper our name:

Beloved.

Beloved.

Beloved.

In a moment we will celebrate a remembrance of our baptism together. Then the water that is blessed will be carried out with me. On your way out I will touch the water and if you are willing make a sign of the cross on your forehead, like was done at your own baptism perhaps.

The water remembers your real name, your baptismal identity. It knows who and whose you are. Not who others expect you to be. Not who you think you should be. Not who you might have been. But who you are in God. Right here. Right now. And though the water will sink in, the mark of your identity remains and you as one who is baptized when you live as one who knows they are beloved. The Spirit of God is with you and with you God is well pleased. You are beloved. So come on in, because the water is fine.