Readings: Isaiah 43:1-7 and Luke 3:15-23
Sermon: Stirrings
(This is actually a second sermon written for this Sunday. To see what was written first, and then pushed aside -- a good or bad decision, who knows? -- to make room for this one, scroll down to the post just before this one.)
There is some confusion or complexity about baptism, and I'd like to try to sort it out because it's a confusion or complexity that goes to the heart of a lot of things. It's the confusion about whether baptism is a personal and individual act and reality, or a corporate thing.
On one hand, it seems to be personal -- all about me as an individual, about the state of my soul, about my personal relationship with God.
Imagine yourself as one of those standing at the river's edge in the story of John the Baptizer, the people and Jesus. John has been preaching that life, as much as it seems on the surface of things, to be the same-old, same-old -- with rich and poor, powerful and powerless all playing their part; with aspirations of righteousness, fairness and peace in our time that somehow melt into old realities of corruption, injustice and sorrow; with wars and rumours of wars; with brokenness and not always a lot of healing; things the same way now as they always have been -- as much as this seems to be the case, John says, look again -- look harder -- look in new ways.
Because God is stirring. Something is happening. The surface of life is rippling in new ways. Because God's messiah and kingdom are emerging and new things are, and shall be coming.
The time is here. It has come. He is coming.
So come. Come to the river. Enter into its flow. Be part of his appearing before you, like the rest of the old world are washed away.
So here I am, you say. Here you are, at water's edge, called to choose -- to choose for yourself, maybe also for your household, but to choose in your own heart whether to stay rooted on solid ground in the same-old, same-old, or step into the river -- to open yourself and your heart and life to something new -- some new way of being and doing and being yourself, and to let it and its flowing newness be your life now.
And who knows that it is for you in particular as you stand at the river's edge? As you contemplate your life -- the good and bad of it, the satisfying and dissatisfying parts of it, the things you have done and ways you have been, and what you may sense inside as a troubling of the water, a stirring of spirit, a rising of something new.
It's a personal place to be. A choice each one of us must make for ourselves.
But on the other hand, it's not just me and not just you standing there alone. The story says "all the people" were there. They came in groups and droves, in company and community, in numbers and as a people who together knew they were called to be God's people, to live in the world within that reality.
So yes, each has to decide for themselves to be part of it, but what each is choosing is to be part of this particular corporate reality, part of this community of faith, a people who together seek to find, know and live out God's good will in the world -- as people who seek and find their own salvation, their deepest meaning and purpose, together.
The key in this is the Jordan River, because the Jordan River has a special place -- is a special place, in the life of the people.
The Jordan is where -- long, long ago in their very beginning, in the days of Moses and their 40-year journey through the wilderness from slavery in Egypt to new life as God's people in the promised land, the Jordan was the last river, the last of the boundaries to be crossed.
Long, long ago -- the first time they stood at that river's edge, behind them was the wilderness where they had been -- no lost, but journeying for 40 years. Ahead of them on the far side of the water was the promised land -- the land where they would settle and live free as God's people. So when they reached the river they stopped, encamped, knew what was ahead of them, took time to remember where they had been, what it all meant, and what God was intending to do for them, through them and with them. And then, when it was time, when they were ready, as a company they moved forward. As a people, as a community of faith, hope and love they crossed the Jordan, and entered the promised land.
And of course it wasn't all perfect. It was promised land, not perfect land, and there's a difference between the two. It was a land of milk and honey, but also a land or rocks and thorns. A place of ups and downs, losses and defeats, temptation and sin, of making do and making use of what was there for God's purposes, of turning bad into good and also seeing good turn into bad.
But in the midst of all this, when they took time to remember they were conscious of doing this together, whatever it was. They were one people driven and drawn by the good will of God, living towards a dream and vision beyond themselves, listening as closely as they could to the Word as it was spoken, interpreted, lived out, and constantly unfolding and opening in new ways, seeking as much as possible to be open and sensitive to the stirrings of the spirit, to let themselves be led by God.
Sometimes it ended well. Sometimes not. But that's what happens and God can -- God does live with that. Neither they nor the land were perfect, but they were ... they were a they. And it's that way of being -- of being whole and good together, that the Jordan River was all about. It's that to which they were committing themselves once again as they stood there to be baptized by John.
God was moving, stirring something in the world, and they were committing themselves to be part of it together, to grow into and towards it as a community and a body.
That meant something particular and personal for each one of them in their time. No doubt it means something different and particular for each one of us as well.
So is God moving in our time? Is God stirring something new in the world? Is something emerging and rising from within the depths of our time and life, for the good of the world?
And what does it mean for us to become part of it? To find our place and our life in the river and flowing of the people of God in our time? To find the meaning and purpose of our life in our life together, in company and community with other people of God in the world?
And I wonder ... as we do this, as we come to the river's edge and face that question, do we maybe sense God's spirit, God's dove of peace and power, hovering and brooding over us? And maybe -- just maybe, do we have a sense of Jesus, God's messiah and kingdom, somehow emerging and appearing among us -- in some way blessing us and calling us God's beloved?
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