January 10, 1999 | 9:30 and 11:00 a.m.

Set Up by the Spirit

Sarah Jo Sarchet
Associate Pastor, Fourth Presbyterian Church

Matthew 3:13–17

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God, your spirit comes to us and your voice speaks to us. Give us eyes to see and ears to hear you in your word, in our worship, in our lives. May the words of my mouth and the meditations of our hearts be acceptable in thy sight, Oh Lord, our Strength and our Redeemer.

In the course of a week, the colors of Christmas have changed to a blanket of white. The garlands and banners of the Holy Days have been removed from the sanctuary, replaced by the simple green vestments of Ordinary Time. Today is the first Sunday of Ordinary Time. The liturgical color of Ordinary Time is green, to represent our growth as Christians. In a few short days we’ve moved from the baby Jesus in Bethlehem through Epiphany and the appearance of the star and gift-bearing wisemen to the banks of the River Jordan with John the Baptist. By scholarly accounts, Jesus is 30 years old (already!) and asking to be baptized. The church year moves too quickly for me, but so too does my life sometimes. In some ways, it feels good to let the fuss of the holidays go, and welcome life back as usual. During the Holy Days we live to celebrate; Ordinary Time is when we live what we celebrate.

Over lunch with members just before Christmas, one of them, a new mother, confided in me that she had baptized her daughter Sunday. “Oh,” I said, “you had Katie baptized?” “No,” she said, “I baptized Katie.” My job security feeling a little threatened, I nervously chewed my salad, and calmly said, “Oh? . . .” She went on to explain, “We were supposed to have her baptized in December, but with Christmas and all, it just seemed like too much, and our families couldn’t get here from the west coast, and so we had to put it off until a date in May. But that seemed so far away, and I just didn’t feel right about it, so after church, while there was still water in the font, I took Katie up there, touched her forehead with water, and told her she belonged to God. It made me feel better, like she belongs to God. We’ll have her baptized in May, but I honestly feel like she’s baptized now.”

The seminary-trained, Presbytery-ordained, decently-and-in-order, liturgically correct, reformed theologian in me wanted to protest, “you can’t do that.” Deep down inside, her story touched me, and has forced me to do some thinking about the important moment of baptism.

The words of baptism are familiar, Child of God, marked as Christ’s own, and sealed by the Spirit forever. The Pastor hands the child back to loving parents, who breathe a sigh of relief and put the picture in the baby book. It’s a symbol of our faith, a ritual. No, surely its more than that. . . What does baptism mean?

I remember accompanying a distraught Grandmother to a hospital to baptize prematurely born triplets who were being kept alive in incubators. The Grandmother fervently believed that if the infants died and weren’t baptized, they would somehow not be acceptable to God. As we careened dangerously through traffic, I remember thinking, “If one has to present a certificate of baptism at the pearly gates I’m in trouble, for I don’t even know where mine is.” Why is baptism so important? Is it so that God will recognize us? Or so that we will begin to recognize God?

I don’t believe God requires baptism for eternal life, and yet I believe Jesus commanded it. In the Reformed Tradition, baptism is one of our two sacraments, the two things we believe Jesus taught and told us to do: Baptism and the Lord’s Supper. “Take Eat, this is my body, do this in remembrance of me.” And, “Go into all nations, making disciples and baptizing them in the name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit.” Holy words, holy moments. . . Neither of which are about requirements, both of which are about relationships.

Whether our parents chose it for us, or we for ourselves, baptism marks the beginning of our intentional belonging to God and to one another. Baptism is about humbly recognizing life is a gift that belongs to one far greater and that is to be shared as members of the family of God.

But is baptism an important moment for babies, or on new member Sundays? Is baptism a once-in-a-lifetime moment, or is it about all the moments of our lifetimes?

If you’ve been baptized, what does your baptism mean to you, today?

Cameron came into my office, sat down in the chair, and kicked his feet. His ten-year-old cheeks were sun-blushed and his freckles bright beneath a Cincinnati Reds baseball cap. Fresh from soccer practice, he had a request for me. “I’d like to be baptized,” he said. “We were learning about Jesus’ baptism in Sunday School. The teacher asked who was baptized—all the other kids raised their hands. I want to be baptized too.” Using my best pastoral care, I said, “Cameron, do you really want to be baptized because everyone else is?” His freckles winked up at me, “No,” he confessed, “I want to be baptized ’cause it means I belong to God.” Then he looked shyly away. I was touched by his understanding, “How about this Sunday?” I asked. The smile turned to concern. “Do I have to be baptized in front of all those people in the church? Can’t I just have a friend baptize me in the river?” “Where did you get that idea? I asked. “Well, Jesus was baptized by his cousin John in a river, wasn’t he?” Caught off guard, “You’ve got a point,“ I conceded, and quickly recovered. “Cameron, if a friend baptized you in the river, how would the church recognize it?” Knowing this was a teachable moment, I climbed up on my step stool to reach for my Presbyterian Book of Order that was conveniently located on the farthest shelf.

“By my new way of living?” he asked.

I nearly fell off the step stool. I left the Book of Order on the shelf. Cameron’s understanding wasn’t just simple, it was profound. “By my new way of living?” Cameron had turned the teachable moment into a lesson for me, for us.

A new way of living. That’s what we are called to in our baptism, whether we are baptized as infants or as young children or as teenagers or as adults, whether we have reaffirmed our faith in front of a congregation upon joining a church, or whether we have yet to take that step of commitment, our baptism represents a moment that we recognize as the beginning of a new way of life. A way of life in which we belong to God and to God’s family, the church. A way of life in which we begin to know what our lives are about.

Not many accounts of Jesus’ life are recorded in all four Gospels, but all four Gospels tell the story of Jesus’ baptism, with remarkable similarity. Why was Jesus’ baptism such an important moment? In all four Gospels Jesus’ baptism marks the beginning of his ministry. From the moment of his baptism on, people began to recognize a new way of living in him. The Holy Spirit in the form of a dove landed on Jesus’ shoulder and a voice from heaven said, “This is my beloved Son, with whom I am well-pleased.” In his baptism, Jesus was set up by the Spirit to live a life that was about so much more than his life. Just as quickly as we move from the stable in Bethlehem to the River Jordan, as we read the gospels we move from Jesus’ baptism to stories about his way of living. The Gospels immediately tell us how Jesus lived through the same temptations and trials of life we face, and how in his every day encounters with everyday people he loved and forgave and taught and included and celebrated and shared and fed and healed. A dove accompanied by the voice of God didn’t ride around on Jesus’ shoulder for the rest of his life, and yet, in all of his encounters and occasions, people recognized something different about him. In his baptism, Jesus was set up by the Spirit for a life that was about so much more than his life. Those who knew him, recognized in him a new way of living.

Jesus’ baptism is one of my favorite images of Scripture because, although we don’t see or hear the Holy Spirit descend in the visible form of a dove when we are baptized or confirmed or make a profession of faith, the same thing happens to us. We are given the gift of the Holy Spirit and God says to us, “You are my beloved child, with whom I am well-pleased.” And like Cameron, in that moment, whether we recognize it then or sometime later, we are called to a new way of life. And, like Jesus, we are set up by the Spirit to live a life that is about so much more than our life.

Is baptism a moment? Or is baptism a lifetime?

At a Catholic funeral recently, I was moved as the priest sprinkled holy water on the casket as a reminder of the deceased’s baptism. In the Presbyterian Book of Common Worship, the funeral liturgy, says, “Our baptism is complete in our death.” If baptism marks the beginning of our belonging to God, a relationship that is complete in our death, then our baptism comes alive through our living.

Is baptism a moment? Or a lifetime?

A close colleague of mine died Wednesday and was buried yesterday. Don was recognizable to many by the large crosses he wore, the kind only ministers and nuns can get away with wearing in public, the kind that embarrassed me sometimes. His collection was extensive, many of them gifts from places and people who were special to him. He wore one every day, everywhere. He said it was to recognize his life belonged to God. As I think about his life, Don didn’t have to wear a cross to be recognized as a child of God. His faith was visible in his conversations and his care. His life was about more than his life, it was a lifetime of living to God. Don’s baptism came alive through his living. Is baptism a moment? Or a lifetime?

What does your baptism mean to you, now? Is it visible in your living?

Yesterday at brunch some members told me about a friend whose business involves driving a van with his phone number on the side. This friend is a self-proclaimed poor driver. One day, the cell phone rang. The voice belonged to the driver in the car behind him, who proceeded to describe just how poorly he was driving. “You just wove into the other lane, forgot a turn signal, and almost hit a pedestrian!” exclaimed the unhappy observer behind him.

The story made me consider a question I ask you to consider with me. If someone were to follow me around, not just in my driving but in my living, what would they observe? What kind of running commentary would I hear about my way of living? What would be observed in my encounters and occasions, as I interacted with my neighbors, or colleagues, or my family at dinner, or friends at a party, or the people on the bus, or the women at lunch or the men at the club? Would they recognize my way of living as belonging to God? Would they see that my life is about more than my life?

When John protested baptizing Jesus, saying Jesus should baptize him, Jesus said, “Let it be so for now, for it is proper to fulfill God’s righteousness.”

“For it is proper to fulfill God’s righteousness.” The righteousness Jesus was talking about was not an Old Testament regulation or a church requirement. Jesus was talking about God’s righteousness, the righteousness that does all that God requires of those who accept baptism. The righteousness that reflects what belonging to God looks like, by living a life of mercy, love, forgiveness, creative adherence to God’s covenant, obedience, fidelity, trust, care, inclusion, generosity. The righteousness that reflects God’s way of living, the new way of living that Jesus, set up by the Holy Spirit in his baptism, lived.

The new way of living that we, set up by the Spirit in our baptism, are called to live all the moments of our lifetime.

Thursday night, in an Academy Class on “Discerning Call the Priesthood of all Believers,” the class tried to describe those who had a vocation. “Committed, passionate, chosen, significant, serving,” came the words. “Who wants a life like that?” I asked. All 25 of us raised our hands. I’ve done some thinking since the class, and I’ve discovered something that passionate people have in common. It’s not that they are all passionate about their jobs. The passionate people I know live lives that are about something other than themselves. Their life’s work is about something more than their degrees or their resumes or their paychecks or their career tracks. Their lives are about something more than their lives.

Like Chris, who works a ton of hours and makes time to tutor every week. Like Sean, who delivers meals to the elderly. Like Beth, who takes care of her elderly aunt, at some inconvenience to her own schedule. Like Keith, who had a “Little Brother” and was transferred to Japan, but still sends the boy’s single mom money for boy scout dues and summer camp so he can experience male role models in his life. Like Jim, a member who said, “If I had the gifts you have, I’d do what you do. My gifts are different. . . I have a good job and can provide for my family, and I can golf. I won these in a golf tournament, and I’d like them to be used for something more than me.” And he handed me a wad of hundred dollar bills from his pocket.

The world is looking for passionate people, people whose lives have meaning and purpose. Friends, your baptism gives you both. Your baptism means you belong to God, in your birth and in your death and in all the moments in between. Your baptism gives you purpose, because through it you are set up by the Holy Spirit to live a life that is about more than your life. You are set up by the Spirit for a new way of living, every moment of your lifetime.

Let it be so for now, for it is proper for us in this way to fulfill all righteousness.

So be it, and may it be so.

Sermon © Fourth Presbyterian Church