Divine debut
Commentary
The people had been waiting for a very long time. Our Isaiah passage reflects a centuries-old promise from God about his chosen servant, and that was not even the first of God's promises. So the people had been waiting for a very long time for a certain kind of savior and leader, for deliverance and restoration, for a new covenant and a new age of God's reign. They had waited through the Assyrian threat and the Babylonian captivity. They had waited through the tug-of-war among Alexander's generals, and now they were waiting in the midst of the strong stranglehold of Rome.
To their credit, the people were waiting expectantly. That cannot always be said of God's people, for we sometimes give up hope. Perhaps we stop expecting because we are so discouraged. Or perhaps we stop expecting because we are so preoccupied. The latter may be truer of the American church. But the Jews in the days of Jesus and John were, to their credit, waiting expectantly.
One sure sign of expectation, of course, is prematurely seeing the thing for which you're looking. When we watch carefully for something, we usually perk up and say, "Is that it?" several times before "it" finally arrives. Mirages come with thirst.
So it was in first-century Palestine. The people had perked up and taken notice of several folks along the way, including John the Baptist. Is he the one? No. John's not the one. John, it turns out, is not even worthy to untie the sandals of the one.
Then, finally one day he appeared. He had already come, of course, some thirty years before in Bethlehem. But he had not really appeared yet. Then came that day at the Jordan River when he finally appeared: the divine debut.
Isaiah 42:1-9
Throughout scripture, Christ is proclaimed by many different folks: by prophets, by angels, by John the Baptist and by the apostles. First and foremost, however, it seems that Christ is proclaimed by God himself.
At Jesus' baptism in our Matthew lection, God the Father speaks his word of affirmation about Jesus, and here in this Isaiah passage, centuries before Jesus' earthly ministry, God announces what that special, chosen servant will be and will do.
The image of God putting his spirit on that servant is an important theme in this week's lections. It is promised here in Isaiah, embodied in the Matthew passage, and declared by Peter in the Acts passage.
The mission of this chosen servant is described in terms of both style and content. The content is, first of all, justice. "He will bring forth justice" (vv. 1, 3) is promised twice, and then he will not give up until "he has established justice in the earth" (v. 4). Justice may be, for us, like certain parts of our bodies -- we pay no attention to them until something goes wrong with them. For as long as we ourselves are not the victims of injustice, we are not much troubled by it, or perhaps even aware of it. But widespread and deep-rooted injustice is one of the great blights of a fallen world, and so that is first on the agenda of God's chosen servant.
Next, there follows a series of deliverance images -- light to the nations, opening blind eyes, setting free prisoners. This is very much the mood of another Isaiah passage, with which Jesus chooses to identify himself in the synagogue in Nazareth (see Luke 4:16-21; Isaiah 61:1-2). Deliverance was a prominent feature of the promised servant, and it was a part of Jesus' self-understanding in his work.
Finally, the other key element of the content of the servant's mission is found in verse 6: "I have given you as a covenant to the people." Here the promised servant parts company from any ordinary ruler or hero. Other leaders before and after Isaiah 42 were agents of justice and of deliverance. But tucked within those other promises comes this unique role of this unique servant: namely, he himself will be given as a covenant (see also 49:8). Time and again throughout the Old Testament, God had initiated covenants, established covenants, promised new covenants, and given certain signs of the covenants. But this is different: He gives a person as a covenant. Our covenant-relationship with God is in Christ and is Christ.
Meanwhile, the promises about this chosen servant offer a glimpse into the style, as well as the content, of his mission.
Bruised reeds and dimly burning wicks are compelling images. They are wounded and vulnerable. Ordinary events that stronger versions might survive would spell the end of these. A sturdy reed or a thriving flame would take a deliberate effort to break or extinguish. The bruised reed or flickering wick, however, can be finished off by accident or by mere carelessness.
The chosen one, however, does not finish off these vulnerable items. That bespeaks a carefulness, a gentleness, and perhaps even a deliberate attentiveness to those that are wounded. Moreover, in a discarding culture, we are surprised by the manifest patience with stuff that is not full-strength and fully functioning. And in a culture where standard operating procedure is the survival of the fittest, we are challenged by the one who guarantees the survival of the frailest.
The Isaiah passage concludes with the Lord's own majestic statement about himself. He declares his name, and he does not share his glory or his praise. That is an important corrective for his people to hear, for we are always endeavoring to share around that which belongs rightly and exclusively to him.
Finally, the Lord offers a time line. Look to the past, and you will see there that "former things have come to pass" (v. 9). In the events of the past comes verification of God's Word and God's providence. Then, God promises "new things" in the future and he "(tells) you of them" (v. 9) in the present. The occasional pool player sinks a combination shot, quite by accident, and then jests, "I meant to do that," but the great player calls his shots and tells all those around what he intends to do. So does God. The Lord God calls his shots so that there will be hope in the present, and no mistaking or misattribution in the future.
Acts 10:34-43
Peter's speech in Cornelius' house comes at the climax of a remarkable series of events. God has orchestrated this meeting between the Apostle and the Gentile, and it represents a landmark event in the life of the Church.
In order for us to appreciate Peter's remarkable opening statement, we have to remove ourselves from our contemporary mindset. Pluralism and tolerance are so ingrained in our present culture that we are not struck by Peter's words, but they would have seemed scandalous to any devout Jew of Peter's time. The thought that God shows no partiality was not without precedent in the Old Testament scriptures, particularly the prophets, but still the total blurring of the lines between God's chosen people and other nations would have bordered on heresy.
Such a dramatic, all-inclusive statement just a few days before would probably have stunned Peter himself. In between, however, other things had surprised him: his vision on the rooftop in Joppa, and God's orchestration in bringing him and Cornelius together. And then, most stunning -- and most telling -- of all was the manifestation of the Holy Spirit among the Gentiles there in Cornelius' house while Peter was still speaking.
While Peter recognizes now the universality of the gospel and of God's grace, a few distinctions between people do remain. Israel, for example, may not be the exclusive beneficiaries of God's plan and covenant, but they were the chosen recipients of God's word (e.g., v. 36 "the message he sent to the people of Israel"). Likewise, after Jesus was raised, his appearing was "not to all people but to us who were chosen by God as witnesses" (v. 41).
Here is where Peter has latched onto a concept that is evident throughout scripture and yet not consistently evident in either the theology of ancient Israel or of the early church. The reality is that God has, in fact, chosen some people throughout history, but that choice has not been an exercise of exclusiveness. Rather, it has been a choice made for a broader and more inclusive purpose.
Abram was plainly chosen by God -- and it was from that early choice that Israel traced its self-understanding as a chosen people -- but God's expressed purpose for Abram was far broader than just his own descendants: "... in you all the families of the earth shall be blessed" (Genesis 12:3).
The disciples of Jesus were clearly chosen by him. Again, though, the choice was not for the purpose of forming a separate and exclusive group. Rather, Jesus told them, "You did not choose me but I chose you. And I appointed you to go and bear fruit, fruit that will last" (John 15:16). Of course, the final instruction Jesus gave to those chosen disciples was to go and make more disciples, and of all nations at that (Matthew 28:19).
Interestingly, the Greek words used in Jesus' Great Commission in Matthew are the same as Peter used in Cornelius' house. In the Matthew passage, Jesus says "of all nations" (panta ta ethnay), while in the Acts passage, Peter uses the same words but in the singular form, "in every nation" (en panti ethnei).
Paul, too, was manifestly chosen by God, but the Lord said that Paul was "an instrument whom I have chosen to bring my name before Gentiles and kings and before the people of Israel" (Acts 9:15).
Here, in Peter's remarks to those gathered at Cor-nelius' house, the paradigm consists of select, chosen instruments with a broader, all-encompassing mission. God sent his message "to the people of Israel" (v. 36), but people "in every nation" (v. 35) can be acceptable to him. Jesus did not appear "to all people" (v. 41), but rather only to the ones "chosen by God" (v. 41), and those for the specific purpose of being "witnesses."
The content of Peter's speech, meanwhile, makes an interesting outline. His preaching of the gospel provides an embryonic version of a gospel. Click on each of these phrases from Peter's preaching: "the baptism that John announced" (v. 37); Jesus "went about doing good" (v. 38); "they put him to death" (v. 39); "God raised him on the third day" (v. 40); "God ... allowed him to appear ... to us who were chosen by God as witnesses" (vv. 40-41); and "he commanded us to preach" (v. 42) -- let them become drop-down menus and expand on each. In the end, you'll have something very much like Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John.
Finally, Peter affirms the gospel content of the Old Testament scriptures: "all the prophets testify about him ..." (v. 43). This is a neglected truth in some of our churches where the Old Testament has been set aside as outdated, irrelevant, or replaced. Peter does here without specifics the kind of thing he does more explicitly on the Day of Pentecost (such as Acts 2:16-21, 25-28, 34-35). The accounts in Acts suggest that it was common fare for the early church to preach Christ with Old Testament passages as their text (see, for example, 17:2-3; 18:27-28).
The most striking example of this comes from Jesus himself, though we don't have the details. On Easter Sunday afternoon on the road to Emmaus, Jesus "beginning with Moses and all the prophets, interpreted to them the things about himself in all the scriptures" (Luke 24:27).
Our people know that the New Testament is about Jesus. Peter's words in Cornelius' house resonate with other New Testament references to remind us that the Old Testament is about Jesus, too.
Matthew 3:13-17
The ministry of John the Baptist is a mystery and a marvel. All four gospel writers include it -- which is more than can be said of Christmas, the Transfiguration, or any single thing that Jesus said on the cross -- and yet none of the gospels give us many details about it. Between the four accounts, we get a sense for John's rough look and lifestyle. We also put together the accounts of his words to discover a man bold enough to confront the crowds and condemn the king, on the one hand, yet humble enough to defer completely to just the prospect of Christ, on the other.
At this point in Matthew's story, we have been only briefly introduced to John when Jesus arrives and takes the spotlight. John's mission -- according to both Old Testament prophecy (3:3) and John's own understanding (3:2, 11) -- is purely preparatory. He is not on stage to be the star, but to be supporting cast. He is not the main event; he introduces the main event.
We don't know how long John had been baptizing people in the Jordan River, but Jesus evidently knew where to find him. Matthew indicates a sense of deliberate purpose on Jesus' part: he traveled from Galilee down to the Jordan "to be baptized by [John]" (v. 13).
John resists the proposal, for John has a profound sense of his place relative to Christ. He has no delusions about himself. The whole world could come to John to be baptized. All the descendants of Abraham and the most religious people of the land could come to be baptized by him. But in this one, solitary person there was an exception: He did not need to be baptized at all, and certainly John was not worthy to do it.
Jesus, however, sought "to fulfill all righteousness" (v. 15). That emphasis on righteousness seems ironic, given the later complaints by scribes and Pharisees that Jesus was careless and casual about matters of righteousness (such as hand-washing and Sabbath-keeping). Meanwhile, Jesus himself later declared that "unless your righteousness exceeds that of the scribes and Pharisees, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven" (Matthew 5:20). Clearly, he and the religious leaders of the day had different understandings of righteousness.
John's willingness to cooperate with Jesus even though it didn't make sense to him is, of course, exemplary. This is precisely where we so often fall short: that the plan of God needs to pass the test of our understanding in order for us to participate in it. Not so for John, however. He "would have prevented" (v. 14), but "then he consented" (v. 15).
Jesus' baptism is followed by the heavens opening, the Spirit descending as a dove and the voice of the Father speaking. While we are given no graphic detail about the actual look of the heavens opening, the image appears several places in scripture (see also Isaiah 64:1; Ezekiel 1:1; Acts 7:56). The image suggests that there is a kind of cosmic barrier between us and God -- between our location and his -- and for the heavens to be opened affords us a glimpse into his place and somehow especially allows his word and his work in our place.
Application
God's anointed servant, promised and anticipated for centuries, had come into the world. But his entrance was backstage and barely noticed. Only the smallest handful of folks -- some flea-bitten shepherds, a few foreign astrologers, an old man and an old woman in the temple, and a bewildered couple from Nazareth -- were even aware of his arrival. He was scarcely detected when he arrived, and he lived below the radar of public attention and recognition for some thirty years.
The mood of the people was ripe, meanwhile. There was a rampant hunger in first-century Israel for God's special leader: the promised one who would come to set them free, to defeat their enemies, and to reign on David's throne in peace, strength, and security. The appetite was so great, in fact, that the people had gone rushing after others, whether curiously or enthusiastically (see, for example, Luke 3:15; John 1:19-22; Acts 5:36-37).
Then came the day -- a day that was like no other, except for the fact that it probably seemed just like every other. The sun was hot. Roman soldiers traipsed the roads and streets. The Judean wilderness was inhospitable. It was a day just like any other. But the people who had gathered at the Jordan River to see and hear John the Baptist that day ended up seeing and hearing a great deal more.
Jesus presented himself to John to be baptized. John's reflex was to resist. Like Peter who knew better than to let Jesus wash his feet, John knew that he should be baptized by Jesus rather than the other way around. But Jesus insisted, and John consented. And when Jesus had been baptized and came up out of the water, there was "the Spirit of God descending like a dove (Matthew 3:16) ... and a voice from heaven said, 'This is my Son' " (Matthew 3:17).
Take a snapshot of that moment, for it is unique in all of human history. On this one occasion, the whole Trinity is manifested on earth: the voice of the Father is heard, the Son is incarnate, and the Spirit descends in the form of a dove. Centuries before, Isaiah recorded God's promise that he would put his spirit on his servant. Some years later, Peter would affirm that God anointed Jesus with the Holy Spirit. Here, on an ordinary day by the Jordan River, it happened. The promised one appeared. The divine debut.
An Alternative Application
Matthew 3:13-17. It's a standard children's game. Show a child a picture that contains a surprise or two -- a bird flying upside down, a cow climbing a tree, a starry sky in the middle of the day -- and ask, "What's wrong with this picture?"
When Jesus came to the Jordan to be baptized, John knew something was wrong with the picture. "I need to be baptized by you, and do you come to me?" (v. 14). This is every kind of backwards and upside down. This can't be right.
Jesus responded, however, "Let it be so now; for it is proper for us in this way to fulfill all righteousness" (v. 15).
It's a backward picture we see again and again in the gospel of Jesus Christ. It's the picture of humility, obedience, and matchless grace. God becomes a baby. The master washes feet. The judge of all the earth stands trial in a human court. The immortal dies. We look at the gospel story, and we wonder again and again at all that's wrong with the picture.
Charles Wesley knew what to make of it all: "'Tis mystery all: th'Immortal dies: Who can explore His strange design? In vain the firstborn seraph tries to sound the depths of love divine. 'Tis mercy all! Let earth adore, let angel minds inquire no more."
Preaching The Psalm
Psalm 29
The references in this psalm to God's appearance in the storm are strongly reminiscent of the creation narrative. The idea of the "Lord enthroned over the flood" (v. 10), connects with the image of God's presence "brooding over the waters."
Raising these images in connection with the baptism of Jesus, however, provides an opportunity to not only expand our thinking about baptism, but about creation as well.
In the biblical narratives of creation, narratives that certainly rumble through this psalm, God unleashes his power against the great primeval deep. The chaos and nothingness of the mysterious "waters" are brought under the influence of God's creative powers. While the Bible does not support the later theological and philosophical creation ex nihilo -- creation out of nothing -- it does affirm that great order and beauty emerged out of desperate chaos. God subdued the storm and harnessed the waters in order that life might be sustainable.
In the waters of baptism God engaged in another act of creative power. The storm of human violence and poverty and fear, stirred by corrupt politics and religion, cried out for redress. Into the swirling mix God sent Jesus. Into the waters of human misery God sent Jesus to offer order and beauty.
In the waters of baptism, a mission and its method were made clear. Jesus heard the voice of the Lord as it thundered over the waters. Jesus heard the voice that called for order to emerge from chaos -- a call to him to be a son in whom God delights.
In the chaos of world events, Jesus heard God singing Psalm 2; a coronation psalm heralding the anointing of a new king. Jesus also heard God singing the song of the suffering servant; the one who would heal with his own stripes and wounds.
"You are my son, in whom my soul delights!"
These are the new words of the new world. These are words spoken in and over the waters that create and re-create life. These are the words that marked the beginning of the end of the chaos of human misery. These are the words of the new creation, made in the image of the Son, offered through an act of sacrificial love, and aimed at restoring every broken soul.
Out of the storm the Lord speaks. Above the waters the Lord thunders, and out of the waters and into the storm goes the Son on whom all our hope now rests.
To their credit, the people were waiting expectantly. That cannot always be said of God's people, for we sometimes give up hope. Perhaps we stop expecting because we are so discouraged. Or perhaps we stop expecting because we are so preoccupied. The latter may be truer of the American church. But the Jews in the days of Jesus and John were, to their credit, waiting expectantly.
One sure sign of expectation, of course, is prematurely seeing the thing for which you're looking. When we watch carefully for something, we usually perk up and say, "Is that it?" several times before "it" finally arrives. Mirages come with thirst.
So it was in first-century Palestine. The people had perked up and taken notice of several folks along the way, including John the Baptist. Is he the one? No. John's not the one. John, it turns out, is not even worthy to untie the sandals of the one.
Then, finally one day he appeared. He had already come, of course, some thirty years before in Bethlehem. But he had not really appeared yet. Then came that day at the Jordan River when he finally appeared: the divine debut.
Isaiah 42:1-9
Throughout scripture, Christ is proclaimed by many different folks: by prophets, by angels, by John the Baptist and by the apostles. First and foremost, however, it seems that Christ is proclaimed by God himself.
At Jesus' baptism in our Matthew lection, God the Father speaks his word of affirmation about Jesus, and here in this Isaiah passage, centuries before Jesus' earthly ministry, God announces what that special, chosen servant will be and will do.
The image of God putting his spirit on that servant is an important theme in this week's lections. It is promised here in Isaiah, embodied in the Matthew passage, and declared by Peter in the Acts passage.
The mission of this chosen servant is described in terms of both style and content. The content is, first of all, justice. "He will bring forth justice" (vv. 1, 3) is promised twice, and then he will not give up until "he has established justice in the earth" (v. 4). Justice may be, for us, like certain parts of our bodies -- we pay no attention to them until something goes wrong with them. For as long as we ourselves are not the victims of injustice, we are not much troubled by it, or perhaps even aware of it. But widespread and deep-rooted injustice is one of the great blights of a fallen world, and so that is first on the agenda of God's chosen servant.
Next, there follows a series of deliverance images -- light to the nations, opening blind eyes, setting free prisoners. This is very much the mood of another Isaiah passage, with which Jesus chooses to identify himself in the synagogue in Nazareth (see Luke 4:16-21; Isaiah 61:1-2). Deliverance was a prominent feature of the promised servant, and it was a part of Jesus' self-understanding in his work.
Finally, the other key element of the content of the servant's mission is found in verse 6: "I have given you as a covenant to the people." Here the promised servant parts company from any ordinary ruler or hero. Other leaders before and after Isaiah 42 were agents of justice and of deliverance. But tucked within those other promises comes this unique role of this unique servant: namely, he himself will be given as a covenant (see also 49:8). Time and again throughout the Old Testament, God had initiated covenants, established covenants, promised new covenants, and given certain signs of the covenants. But this is different: He gives a person as a covenant. Our covenant-relationship with God is in Christ and is Christ.
Meanwhile, the promises about this chosen servant offer a glimpse into the style, as well as the content, of his mission.
Bruised reeds and dimly burning wicks are compelling images. They are wounded and vulnerable. Ordinary events that stronger versions might survive would spell the end of these. A sturdy reed or a thriving flame would take a deliberate effort to break or extinguish. The bruised reed or flickering wick, however, can be finished off by accident or by mere carelessness.
The chosen one, however, does not finish off these vulnerable items. That bespeaks a carefulness, a gentleness, and perhaps even a deliberate attentiveness to those that are wounded. Moreover, in a discarding culture, we are surprised by the manifest patience with stuff that is not full-strength and fully functioning. And in a culture where standard operating procedure is the survival of the fittest, we are challenged by the one who guarantees the survival of the frailest.
The Isaiah passage concludes with the Lord's own majestic statement about himself. He declares his name, and he does not share his glory or his praise. That is an important corrective for his people to hear, for we are always endeavoring to share around that which belongs rightly and exclusively to him.
Finally, the Lord offers a time line. Look to the past, and you will see there that "former things have come to pass" (v. 9). In the events of the past comes verification of God's Word and God's providence. Then, God promises "new things" in the future and he "(tells) you of them" (v. 9) in the present. The occasional pool player sinks a combination shot, quite by accident, and then jests, "I meant to do that," but the great player calls his shots and tells all those around what he intends to do. So does God. The Lord God calls his shots so that there will be hope in the present, and no mistaking or misattribution in the future.
Acts 10:34-43
Peter's speech in Cornelius' house comes at the climax of a remarkable series of events. God has orchestrated this meeting between the Apostle and the Gentile, and it represents a landmark event in the life of the Church.
In order for us to appreciate Peter's remarkable opening statement, we have to remove ourselves from our contemporary mindset. Pluralism and tolerance are so ingrained in our present culture that we are not struck by Peter's words, but they would have seemed scandalous to any devout Jew of Peter's time. The thought that God shows no partiality was not without precedent in the Old Testament scriptures, particularly the prophets, but still the total blurring of the lines between God's chosen people and other nations would have bordered on heresy.
Such a dramatic, all-inclusive statement just a few days before would probably have stunned Peter himself. In between, however, other things had surprised him: his vision on the rooftop in Joppa, and God's orchestration in bringing him and Cornelius together. And then, most stunning -- and most telling -- of all was the manifestation of the Holy Spirit among the Gentiles there in Cornelius' house while Peter was still speaking.
While Peter recognizes now the universality of the gospel and of God's grace, a few distinctions between people do remain. Israel, for example, may not be the exclusive beneficiaries of God's plan and covenant, but they were the chosen recipients of God's word (e.g., v. 36 "the message he sent to the people of Israel"). Likewise, after Jesus was raised, his appearing was "not to all people but to us who were chosen by God as witnesses" (v. 41).
Here is where Peter has latched onto a concept that is evident throughout scripture and yet not consistently evident in either the theology of ancient Israel or of the early church. The reality is that God has, in fact, chosen some people throughout history, but that choice has not been an exercise of exclusiveness. Rather, it has been a choice made for a broader and more inclusive purpose.
Abram was plainly chosen by God -- and it was from that early choice that Israel traced its self-understanding as a chosen people -- but God's expressed purpose for Abram was far broader than just his own descendants: "... in you all the families of the earth shall be blessed" (Genesis 12:3).
The disciples of Jesus were clearly chosen by him. Again, though, the choice was not for the purpose of forming a separate and exclusive group. Rather, Jesus told them, "You did not choose me but I chose you. And I appointed you to go and bear fruit, fruit that will last" (John 15:16). Of course, the final instruction Jesus gave to those chosen disciples was to go and make more disciples, and of all nations at that (Matthew 28:19).
Interestingly, the Greek words used in Jesus' Great Commission in Matthew are the same as Peter used in Cornelius' house. In the Matthew passage, Jesus says "of all nations" (panta ta ethnay), while in the Acts passage, Peter uses the same words but in the singular form, "in every nation" (en panti ethnei).
Paul, too, was manifestly chosen by God, but the Lord said that Paul was "an instrument whom I have chosen to bring my name before Gentiles and kings and before the people of Israel" (Acts 9:15).
Here, in Peter's remarks to those gathered at Cor-nelius' house, the paradigm consists of select, chosen instruments with a broader, all-encompassing mission. God sent his message "to the people of Israel" (v. 36), but people "in every nation" (v. 35) can be acceptable to him. Jesus did not appear "to all people" (v. 41), but rather only to the ones "chosen by God" (v. 41), and those for the specific purpose of being "witnesses."
The content of Peter's speech, meanwhile, makes an interesting outline. His preaching of the gospel provides an embryonic version of a gospel. Click on each of these phrases from Peter's preaching: "the baptism that John announced" (v. 37); Jesus "went about doing good" (v. 38); "they put him to death" (v. 39); "God raised him on the third day" (v. 40); "God ... allowed him to appear ... to us who were chosen by God as witnesses" (vv. 40-41); and "he commanded us to preach" (v. 42) -- let them become drop-down menus and expand on each. In the end, you'll have something very much like Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John.
Finally, Peter affirms the gospel content of the Old Testament scriptures: "all the prophets testify about him ..." (v. 43). This is a neglected truth in some of our churches where the Old Testament has been set aside as outdated, irrelevant, or replaced. Peter does here without specifics the kind of thing he does more explicitly on the Day of Pentecost (such as Acts 2:16-21, 25-28, 34-35). The accounts in Acts suggest that it was common fare for the early church to preach Christ with Old Testament passages as their text (see, for example, 17:2-3; 18:27-28).
The most striking example of this comes from Jesus himself, though we don't have the details. On Easter Sunday afternoon on the road to Emmaus, Jesus "beginning with Moses and all the prophets, interpreted to them the things about himself in all the scriptures" (Luke 24:27).
Our people know that the New Testament is about Jesus. Peter's words in Cornelius' house resonate with other New Testament references to remind us that the Old Testament is about Jesus, too.
Matthew 3:13-17
The ministry of John the Baptist is a mystery and a marvel. All four gospel writers include it -- which is more than can be said of Christmas, the Transfiguration, or any single thing that Jesus said on the cross -- and yet none of the gospels give us many details about it. Between the four accounts, we get a sense for John's rough look and lifestyle. We also put together the accounts of his words to discover a man bold enough to confront the crowds and condemn the king, on the one hand, yet humble enough to defer completely to just the prospect of Christ, on the other.
At this point in Matthew's story, we have been only briefly introduced to John when Jesus arrives and takes the spotlight. John's mission -- according to both Old Testament prophecy (3:3) and John's own understanding (3:2, 11) -- is purely preparatory. He is not on stage to be the star, but to be supporting cast. He is not the main event; he introduces the main event.
We don't know how long John had been baptizing people in the Jordan River, but Jesus evidently knew where to find him. Matthew indicates a sense of deliberate purpose on Jesus' part: he traveled from Galilee down to the Jordan "to be baptized by [John]" (v. 13).
John resists the proposal, for John has a profound sense of his place relative to Christ. He has no delusions about himself. The whole world could come to John to be baptized. All the descendants of Abraham and the most religious people of the land could come to be baptized by him. But in this one, solitary person there was an exception: He did not need to be baptized at all, and certainly John was not worthy to do it.
Jesus, however, sought "to fulfill all righteousness" (v. 15). That emphasis on righteousness seems ironic, given the later complaints by scribes and Pharisees that Jesus was careless and casual about matters of righteousness (such as hand-washing and Sabbath-keeping). Meanwhile, Jesus himself later declared that "unless your righteousness exceeds that of the scribes and Pharisees, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven" (Matthew 5:20). Clearly, he and the religious leaders of the day had different understandings of righteousness.
John's willingness to cooperate with Jesus even though it didn't make sense to him is, of course, exemplary. This is precisely where we so often fall short: that the plan of God needs to pass the test of our understanding in order for us to participate in it. Not so for John, however. He "would have prevented" (v. 14), but "then he consented" (v. 15).
Jesus' baptism is followed by the heavens opening, the Spirit descending as a dove and the voice of the Father speaking. While we are given no graphic detail about the actual look of the heavens opening, the image appears several places in scripture (see also Isaiah 64:1; Ezekiel 1:1; Acts 7:56). The image suggests that there is a kind of cosmic barrier between us and God -- between our location and his -- and for the heavens to be opened affords us a glimpse into his place and somehow especially allows his word and his work in our place.
Application
God's anointed servant, promised and anticipated for centuries, had come into the world. But his entrance was backstage and barely noticed. Only the smallest handful of folks -- some flea-bitten shepherds, a few foreign astrologers, an old man and an old woman in the temple, and a bewildered couple from Nazareth -- were even aware of his arrival. He was scarcely detected when he arrived, and he lived below the radar of public attention and recognition for some thirty years.
The mood of the people was ripe, meanwhile. There was a rampant hunger in first-century Israel for God's special leader: the promised one who would come to set them free, to defeat their enemies, and to reign on David's throne in peace, strength, and security. The appetite was so great, in fact, that the people had gone rushing after others, whether curiously or enthusiastically (see, for example, Luke 3:15; John 1:19-22; Acts 5:36-37).
Then came the day -- a day that was like no other, except for the fact that it probably seemed just like every other. The sun was hot. Roman soldiers traipsed the roads and streets. The Judean wilderness was inhospitable. It was a day just like any other. But the people who had gathered at the Jordan River to see and hear John the Baptist that day ended up seeing and hearing a great deal more.
Jesus presented himself to John to be baptized. John's reflex was to resist. Like Peter who knew better than to let Jesus wash his feet, John knew that he should be baptized by Jesus rather than the other way around. But Jesus insisted, and John consented. And when Jesus had been baptized and came up out of the water, there was "the Spirit of God descending like a dove (Matthew 3:16) ... and a voice from heaven said, 'This is my Son' " (Matthew 3:17).
Take a snapshot of that moment, for it is unique in all of human history. On this one occasion, the whole Trinity is manifested on earth: the voice of the Father is heard, the Son is incarnate, and the Spirit descends in the form of a dove. Centuries before, Isaiah recorded God's promise that he would put his spirit on his servant. Some years later, Peter would affirm that God anointed Jesus with the Holy Spirit. Here, on an ordinary day by the Jordan River, it happened. The promised one appeared. The divine debut.
An Alternative Application
Matthew 3:13-17. It's a standard children's game. Show a child a picture that contains a surprise or two -- a bird flying upside down, a cow climbing a tree, a starry sky in the middle of the day -- and ask, "What's wrong with this picture?"
When Jesus came to the Jordan to be baptized, John knew something was wrong with the picture. "I need to be baptized by you, and do you come to me?" (v. 14). This is every kind of backwards and upside down. This can't be right.
Jesus responded, however, "Let it be so now; for it is proper for us in this way to fulfill all righteousness" (v. 15).
It's a backward picture we see again and again in the gospel of Jesus Christ. It's the picture of humility, obedience, and matchless grace. God becomes a baby. The master washes feet. The judge of all the earth stands trial in a human court. The immortal dies. We look at the gospel story, and we wonder again and again at all that's wrong with the picture.
Charles Wesley knew what to make of it all: "'Tis mystery all: th'Immortal dies: Who can explore His strange design? In vain the firstborn seraph tries to sound the depths of love divine. 'Tis mercy all! Let earth adore, let angel minds inquire no more."
Preaching The Psalm
Psalm 29
The references in this psalm to God's appearance in the storm are strongly reminiscent of the creation narrative. The idea of the "Lord enthroned over the flood" (v. 10), connects with the image of God's presence "brooding over the waters."
Raising these images in connection with the baptism of Jesus, however, provides an opportunity to not only expand our thinking about baptism, but about creation as well.
In the biblical narratives of creation, narratives that certainly rumble through this psalm, God unleashes his power against the great primeval deep. The chaos and nothingness of the mysterious "waters" are brought under the influence of God's creative powers. While the Bible does not support the later theological and philosophical creation ex nihilo -- creation out of nothing -- it does affirm that great order and beauty emerged out of desperate chaos. God subdued the storm and harnessed the waters in order that life might be sustainable.
In the waters of baptism God engaged in another act of creative power. The storm of human violence and poverty and fear, stirred by corrupt politics and religion, cried out for redress. Into the swirling mix God sent Jesus. Into the waters of human misery God sent Jesus to offer order and beauty.
In the waters of baptism, a mission and its method were made clear. Jesus heard the voice of the Lord as it thundered over the waters. Jesus heard the voice that called for order to emerge from chaos -- a call to him to be a son in whom God delights.
In the chaos of world events, Jesus heard God singing Psalm 2; a coronation psalm heralding the anointing of a new king. Jesus also heard God singing the song of the suffering servant; the one who would heal with his own stripes and wounds.
"You are my son, in whom my soul delights!"
These are the new words of the new world. These are words spoken in and over the waters that create and re-create life. These are the words that marked the beginning of the end of the chaos of human misery. These are the words of the new creation, made in the image of the Son, offered through an act of sacrificial love, and aimed at restoring every broken soul.
Out of the storm the Lord speaks. Above the waters the Lord thunders, and out of the waters and into the storm goes the Son on whom all our hope now rests.
