We Wish You a Merry Baptism?
Commentary
In the logic of the church year, we have spent four weeks anticipating the coming of the Lord, followed by two that celebrate his arrival. Now, with the liturgical and seasonal remembrances of his birth and epiphany completed, we fast forward to his baptism. That is essentially what the gospels do, and we follow their lead.
Matthew, Mark, and Luke all report Jesus’ baptism, while John also strongly alludes to it with the reference John the Baptist makes to seeing the Spirit descend as a dove on Jesus. The fact that Jesus’ baptism enjoys such prominence in the gospels is noteworthy, for we remember that only two of the gospels include the story of Jesus’ birth. We spend a lot of weeks anticipating and celebrating Christmas, yet only one Sunday is given to Jesus’ baptism. We cherish scores of songs about the Christmas event, yet we have very little to sing about the baptism. Are we out of step with the gospel writers? Have we overlooked something of tremendous importance?
You can and I cannot single-handedly change the imbalance in the musical repertoire. Nor would I want to undo the prominence that Christmas enjoys in our churches or even in our culture. But you and I do have this week at least to lift up before our people’s eyes an event that the gospel writers clearly regarded as significant.
Meanwhile, in addition to the inclusion of Jesus’ baptism in the gospel accounts, the larger theme of baptism is even more prominent in the New Testament. There is the very important baptizing role and ministry of John the Baptist, as well as brief anecdotal evidence that Jesus’ disciples also were baptizing people. Jesus’ “Great Commission” includes the instruction to baptize. The book of Acts features quite an assortment of baptism references and stories. And even in the epistles we find both Paul and Peter referring to baptism.
So it is, then, that we will invite the prophet Isaiah, the book of Acts, and the Gospel of Luke to assist us this week as we think and preach about baptism in general and about Jesus’ baptism in particular. We don’t have the abundant musical help, the traditions, or the decor that we enjoy when we preach the Christmas story. But we have this advantage: while Jesus does not continue to be born, we do continue to baptize. And so we proceed with a confidence in the ongoing relevance and experience of baptism.
Isaiah 43:1-7
What things have you found that you need to say to your children again and again? Making a list of those things can be a revealing exercise. The list will reveal partly what you believe is important for them to know and partly what they perhaps have had a hard time grasping or internalizing.
We might look at scripture through the same lens. Make a list of the things that the Lord seems to have to say to his people again and again, and on that list, we will find both what is important to him and what was perhaps elusive for them. And prominent on that list would be ‘Fear not.”
Again and again, this was God’s word to God’s people. He said it to many individuals along the way, to the nation of Israel on numerous occasions, famously to the shepherds outside of Bethlehem, and it was a recurring phrase in Jesus’ ministry, as well. And here, in this excerpt from Isaiah, the Lord tells his people not to be afraid. Indeed, he says it twice in just seven verses.
When parents reassure little children when they are frightened, the parent will often give a reason. Sometimes we say, “There’s nothing to be afraid of,” for oftentimes young children are afraid of imaginary threats. Or we will say, “Don’t be afraid — Daddy’s right here” or “Mommy’s right here.” In short, it comes naturally to us to add some reason to the encouragement not to fear.
We see that principle at work here in Isaiah, as well. Consider the “for” or “because” statements that the Lord makes. We will not take the space to rehearse them here, but they are worth your taking the time to underline one by one. Make a list of the reasons God gives why his people do not need to be afraid. It’s a beautiful list and worthy of our meditating on it.
As we consider the Lord’s list of reasons, it is especially worth noting that he refers to threatening circumstances — passing through deep waters, walking through fire. The Lord is not saying to his people, “There’s nothing to be afraid of.” Not at all. He is giving better and more solid reasons not to be afraid even in the midst of frightening and threatening circumstances.
One of the Lord’s stated reasons is “I will be with you.” This is perhaps the most common accompanying statement when the Lord tells his people not to fear. And we also hear the same truth from the human side, for the psalmist famously testifies, “Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for you are with me” (Psalm 23:4 ESV).
Finally, if your congregation has in its repertoire the anonymous hymn “How Firm a Foundation,” it would be worth singing together this Sunday. The hymn is largely inspired by verses and images from this passage from Isaiah. And we will find that the hymn and the passage each help us to hear and appreciate the other.
Acts 8:14-17
Years ago, I was part of a lectionary study group with some colleagues, and one week we were talking together about the Acts 2 account of Pentecost. I raised a question with the group at that time which, although we are assigned a different passage from Acts, is equally pertinent to us. I asked whether Pentecost was a one-time event or a recurring event in the economy of God’s work.
We understand that some of the biblical events are one-time events: that is to say, they accomplished what needed to be accomplished, and thus they do not need to be repeated. The cross of Christ is perhaps the best example. On the other hand, when we read about the healing ministry of Jesus, we sense that the healing events recorded in the gospels are samples or models of something that needs to happen again and again. In other words, I wasn’t healed when Bartimaeus was healed; I need healing events of my own.
Within that paradigm, then, where do we place Pentecost? Was the coming of the Holy Spirit a one-time event, like the cross, which has an ever-after application and impact? Or was the coming of the Spirit on Pentecost more like one of the healing stories — a thing that happens, and perhaps even needs to happen, again and again?
I expect that every student of scripture — and perhaps even most believers — has a belief about this matter. It may not be a reflective belief: it may simply be an assumption. But our brief assigned text from Acts 8 invites consideration of the question.
In John 3, Jesus compares the work of the Spirit to the wind. And, indeed, as we study the theme and work of the Spirit in scripture, we find that there is something elusive about him. Not that he is unavailable, but he cannot be pinned down. Just when we want to pigeonhole him and his work into some tidy paradigm, a different passage or episode comes along and challenges our model.
Surely that happened to many of those first Jewish Christians when the Spirit came on the Gentile Cornelius and his household. That challenged some established paradigms. And so, we nod appreciatively when we hear Jesus say, “The wind blows where it wishes, and you hear its sound, but you do not know where it comes from or where it goes. So it is with everyone who is born of the Spirit” (John 3:8 ESV).
The gospel had been preached in Samaria. That was a specific part of Jesus’ commission to his disciples before his ascension (see Acts 1:8). And the new believers there were baptized by those who had brought the gospel to them. Yet the work, it seems, was not complete. Peter and John followed up there in Samaria, laid hands on the new converts, and then they received the Holy Spirit. They had received the Word of God; they had been baptized; but they had not received the Holy Spirit.
That suggests that Pentecost was not the sort of once-for-all event that the cross was. Rather, we surmise that “pentecosts” are continually needed. A similar sort of evidence is found in the story of Paul’s work in Ephesus (see Acts 19:1-7).
But while an episode like this event in Samaria suggests that Pentecost is not a once-and-for-all event, it does affirm that the Spirit is for all. The apostles were essential, it seems, to the impartation of the Spirit, but see that they were not the only ones who received the Spirit. In this, as in Cornelius’ house or the believers in Ephesus, the expectation was that the Spirit was for all.
Luke 3:15-17, 21-22
In a scene from a sitcom, a middle-aged man was going through the gauntlet of a thorough medical examination, including a hearing test. After failing to identify a few of the tones, he asked if he could take the test again. After the second effort, the doctor commended him for not only hearing all of the tones, but for also hearing three that weren't even there!
The scene is emblematic of the variety of hearing problems that people can have. On the one hand, we don't hear some things that are there. And, on the other hand, we sometimes do hear some things that are not there. And, in this latter category, human beings are particularly prone to hear both what they are afraid of and what they hope for.
The crowds who were gathering around John the Baptist thought that they heard what they were hoping for. Namely, they thought that they were hearing the Messiah. John was quick to disabuse them, however: he was not the one. Indeed, he insisted that he was not even in the same league with the one who was to come!
Then John began to tell them more about the one who was to come, and I wonder if John's description sounded like what they were hoping for.
Now, to be sure, the treasury of messianic predictions and allusions found across the generations of Old Testament texts features a multi-faceted picture of the one who was to come. But, naturally, people hear what they want to hear, and so it may be that the popular expectations about the Messiah were more oriented towards Israel's comfort, security, and victory. The portrait John painted, however, was a sobering picture of judgment.
The divine judgment in John’s preaching was represented in terms of sorting: in this case, sorting the wheat from the chaff. We recognize, of course, that this particular act of God is a pattern with him. In the beginning, he separated light from dark, and in the end, he will separate sheep from goats.
In our day, it has become rather fashionable to think in terms of gray rather than black and white. But our prevailing perception of gray may simply be a symptom of the fact that we have mixed light and darkness so that we no longer recognize either. But make no mistake: the one who comes will separate.
In the first section of our assigned gospel passage, John talks about the one who was to come. And then, in the second part of the passage, he comes. Jesus himself arrives on the scene to be baptized.
Luke does not favor us with quite as much detail about Jesus’ baptism as, say, Matthew does. The critical point for Luke, however, is the empowerment and affirmation of God on Jesus. In a unique moment where all three members of the Trinity are manifested to the senses, the Spirit descends on the Son, and the Father declares his love and approval. It is a lovely and powerfully relational moment.
The people of that day had the good sense to be waiting expectantly. Unfortunately, their senses were not altogether reliable. They thought the Messiah was someone who was not. And when the Messiah did appear in their midst, they largely failed to recognize and embrace him for who he was.
Application
We might puzzle over how to preach baptism from an Old Testament text. After all, baptism appears out of the blue (at least in terms of the canon of Scripture) when we turn to the New Testament and are introduced to John the Baptist. Whatever the people in John’s audience understood him and themselves to be doing, it was not based on an Old Testament practice. It may well have been informed by practices developed by certain groups during the intertestamental period, but that comes long after Isaiah. What, then, does Isaiah 43 have to say to your congregation or mine on a Sunday when we are contemplating Jesus’ baptism?
On the one hand, there is the water and river imagery — “When you pass through the waters, I will be with you; and through the rivers, they shall not overwhelm you” — and there is something lovely about an affirmation of the Lord being with us in the waters of baptism. Even the image of our ‘passing through’ the waters might be a fruitful one. But I suspect that the better connection to be made with Isaiah 43 is in the first verse: “Fear not, for I have redeemed you; I have called you by name, you are mine.”
The scene in Isaiah is clearly not one of baptism. Yet there is a connection to be made simply because the one who spoke in Isaiah 43 is the same one who spoke in Luke 3, and he is the same one who deals with you and me. Even if the Old Testament lection is not overtly about baptism, the relevance is not in the sacrament but in the unchanging Lord. And so, we are right to rejoice in baptism as an affirmation and celebration of the one who names and claims: the one who knows us and makes us his own.
In the Gospel lection, God the Father publicly affirms Jesus as his own. Jesus is unique, to be sure, and so we must be hermeneutically careful about how much of Jesus’ story we project onto ourselves. Yet inasmuch as we are adopted and made joint heirs with Christ, we are on solid ground when we embrace this passage for ourselves. It is, first and most of all, a Christological passage: it tells us about who Jesus is. But the gospel message extends sonship to us, and the Spirit bears witness with our spirit to call God, “Abba Father.”
Finally, the brief episode from Acts is a provocative one for our consideration. In the Luke passage, the Spirit descends on Jesus as he emerges from baptism. In the Acts passage, however, the folks in Samaria had evidently emerged from baptism some time earlier, but they had not yet received the Spirit.
Personally, I would hesitate to build a whole “second blessing” theology from this passage. I think the episode from Acts 8 is a helpful corrective, though, to any liturgical tendency to turn baptism into some sort of magical act by which the work of God is automatically imparted. It is a means of his grace, to be sure, but so is the preaching of the word, and we know that the Spirit does not produce identical results each time the word is preached. Why, then, should baptism be reckoned as a cookie cutter act?
We take the passages together — the witness of Isaiah, of Luke’s Gospel, and of Acts — and they combine to speak to us. They speak to us of each of the Persons of the Trinity. They speak to us of the nature of our relationship to God. And they speak to us of what is available to us by his grace.
Alternative Application(s)
Luke 3:15-17, 21-22 — “The Emcee Ministry”
Certain biblical characters are so unique that one hesitates to domesticate them by trying to see ourselves in them. Mary and Joseph, for example, play a unique role in the plan of God. No one before or since has done what God had Joseph and Mary do.
John the Baptist is another historically unique character. Jesus highlights the watershed moment that John occupies, saying that “among those born of women there has arisen no one greater than John the Baptist. Yet the one who is least in the kingdom of heaven is greater than he” (Matthew 11:11 ESV). No one else in history plays quite the role that John does.
That said, I do think that John can serve as a helpful role model for us. You and I don’t have John’s unique calling, yet how he performed his can be instructive for how we perform ours. And not ours only, but also the living and serving that the people in our pews do, as well.
I like to refer to John the Baptist as the great emcee. The role of the emcee, you know, is to introduce others and then to sit down. The emcee plays a pivotal, high-profile role. Yet, still, he and the audience are all very clear about the fact that the event — the occasion, the gathering — is not about him: it’s about someone else.
John evidently attracted huge crowds, yet John remained clear that it wasn’t meant to be about him. John knew that there was one coming after him. And the one who was coming “is mightier than I... the strap of whose sandals I am not worthy to untie.”
There is no equating the emcee with the guest of honor or the keynote speaker. John came to prepare the way, but ultimately the emcee sits down and forfeits the stage to the guest of honor. John knew his place, and he directed the people’s attention to the expectation of the one who was coming, the one who was greater, the one who would bring a whole different kind of baptism.
We do well to take our cue from John. The human ego is so naturally prone to think that we are the star of the show and all the world around us is simply supporting cast. Our greatest privilege, however, is to prepare the way of the Lord wherever we go. Our most important work is to introduce him. And our constant attitude must be that we do what we do for the sake of the one who is greater, whose sandals we are not worthy to untie.
Matthew, Mark, and Luke all report Jesus’ baptism, while John also strongly alludes to it with the reference John the Baptist makes to seeing the Spirit descend as a dove on Jesus. The fact that Jesus’ baptism enjoys such prominence in the gospels is noteworthy, for we remember that only two of the gospels include the story of Jesus’ birth. We spend a lot of weeks anticipating and celebrating Christmas, yet only one Sunday is given to Jesus’ baptism. We cherish scores of songs about the Christmas event, yet we have very little to sing about the baptism. Are we out of step with the gospel writers? Have we overlooked something of tremendous importance?
You can and I cannot single-handedly change the imbalance in the musical repertoire. Nor would I want to undo the prominence that Christmas enjoys in our churches or even in our culture. But you and I do have this week at least to lift up before our people’s eyes an event that the gospel writers clearly regarded as significant.
Meanwhile, in addition to the inclusion of Jesus’ baptism in the gospel accounts, the larger theme of baptism is even more prominent in the New Testament. There is the very important baptizing role and ministry of John the Baptist, as well as brief anecdotal evidence that Jesus’ disciples also were baptizing people. Jesus’ “Great Commission” includes the instruction to baptize. The book of Acts features quite an assortment of baptism references and stories. And even in the epistles we find both Paul and Peter referring to baptism.
So it is, then, that we will invite the prophet Isaiah, the book of Acts, and the Gospel of Luke to assist us this week as we think and preach about baptism in general and about Jesus’ baptism in particular. We don’t have the abundant musical help, the traditions, or the decor that we enjoy when we preach the Christmas story. But we have this advantage: while Jesus does not continue to be born, we do continue to baptize. And so we proceed with a confidence in the ongoing relevance and experience of baptism.
Isaiah 43:1-7
What things have you found that you need to say to your children again and again? Making a list of those things can be a revealing exercise. The list will reveal partly what you believe is important for them to know and partly what they perhaps have had a hard time grasping or internalizing.
We might look at scripture through the same lens. Make a list of the things that the Lord seems to have to say to his people again and again, and on that list, we will find both what is important to him and what was perhaps elusive for them. And prominent on that list would be ‘Fear not.”
Again and again, this was God’s word to God’s people. He said it to many individuals along the way, to the nation of Israel on numerous occasions, famously to the shepherds outside of Bethlehem, and it was a recurring phrase in Jesus’ ministry, as well. And here, in this excerpt from Isaiah, the Lord tells his people not to be afraid. Indeed, he says it twice in just seven verses.
When parents reassure little children when they are frightened, the parent will often give a reason. Sometimes we say, “There’s nothing to be afraid of,” for oftentimes young children are afraid of imaginary threats. Or we will say, “Don’t be afraid — Daddy’s right here” or “Mommy’s right here.” In short, it comes naturally to us to add some reason to the encouragement not to fear.
We see that principle at work here in Isaiah, as well. Consider the “for” or “because” statements that the Lord makes. We will not take the space to rehearse them here, but they are worth your taking the time to underline one by one. Make a list of the reasons God gives why his people do not need to be afraid. It’s a beautiful list and worthy of our meditating on it.
As we consider the Lord’s list of reasons, it is especially worth noting that he refers to threatening circumstances — passing through deep waters, walking through fire. The Lord is not saying to his people, “There’s nothing to be afraid of.” Not at all. He is giving better and more solid reasons not to be afraid even in the midst of frightening and threatening circumstances.
One of the Lord’s stated reasons is “I will be with you.” This is perhaps the most common accompanying statement when the Lord tells his people not to fear. And we also hear the same truth from the human side, for the psalmist famously testifies, “Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for you are with me” (Psalm 23:4 ESV).
Finally, if your congregation has in its repertoire the anonymous hymn “How Firm a Foundation,” it would be worth singing together this Sunday. The hymn is largely inspired by verses and images from this passage from Isaiah. And we will find that the hymn and the passage each help us to hear and appreciate the other.
Acts 8:14-17
Years ago, I was part of a lectionary study group with some colleagues, and one week we were talking together about the Acts 2 account of Pentecost. I raised a question with the group at that time which, although we are assigned a different passage from Acts, is equally pertinent to us. I asked whether Pentecost was a one-time event or a recurring event in the economy of God’s work.
We understand that some of the biblical events are one-time events: that is to say, they accomplished what needed to be accomplished, and thus they do not need to be repeated. The cross of Christ is perhaps the best example. On the other hand, when we read about the healing ministry of Jesus, we sense that the healing events recorded in the gospels are samples or models of something that needs to happen again and again. In other words, I wasn’t healed when Bartimaeus was healed; I need healing events of my own.
Within that paradigm, then, where do we place Pentecost? Was the coming of the Holy Spirit a one-time event, like the cross, which has an ever-after application and impact? Or was the coming of the Spirit on Pentecost more like one of the healing stories — a thing that happens, and perhaps even needs to happen, again and again?
I expect that every student of scripture — and perhaps even most believers — has a belief about this matter. It may not be a reflective belief: it may simply be an assumption. But our brief assigned text from Acts 8 invites consideration of the question.
In John 3, Jesus compares the work of the Spirit to the wind. And, indeed, as we study the theme and work of the Spirit in scripture, we find that there is something elusive about him. Not that he is unavailable, but he cannot be pinned down. Just when we want to pigeonhole him and his work into some tidy paradigm, a different passage or episode comes along and challenges our model.
Surely that happened to many of those first Jewish Christians when the Spirit came on the Gentile Cornelius and his household. That challenged some established paradigms. And so, we nod appreciatively when we hear Jesus say, “The wind blows where it wishes, and you hear its sound, but you do not know where it comes from or where it goes. So it is with everyone who is born of the Spirit” (John 3:8 ESV).
The gospel had been preached in Samaria. That was a specific part of Jesus’ commission to his disciples before his ascension (see Acts 1:8). And the new believers there were baptized by those who had brought the gospel to them. Yet the work, it seems, was not complete. Peter and John followed up there in Samaria, laid hands on the new converts, and then they received the Holy Spirit. They had received the Word of God; they had been baptized; but they had not received the Holy Spirit.
That suggests that Pentecost was not the sort of once-for-all event that the cross was. Rather, we surmise that “pentecosts” are continually needed. A similar sort of evidence is found in the story of Paul’s work in Ephesus (see Acts 19:1-7).
But while an episode like this event in Samaria suggests that Pentecost is not a once-and-for-all event, it does affirm that the Spirit is for all. The apostles were essential, it seems, to the impartation of the Spirit, but see that they were not the only ones who received the Spirit. In this, as in Cornelius’ house or the believers in Ephesus, the expectation was that the Spirit was for all.
Luke 3:15-17, 21-22
In a scene from a sitcom, a middle-aged man was going through the gauntlet of a thorough medical examination, including a hearing test. After failing to identify a few of the tones, he asked if he could take the test again. After the second effort, the doctor commended him for not only hearing all of the tones, but for also hearing three that weren't even there!
The scene is emblematic of the variety of hearing problems that people can have. On the one hand, we don't hear some things that are there. And, on the other hand, we sometimes do hear some things that are not there. And, in this latter category, human beings are particularly prone to hear both what they are afraid of and what they hope for.
The crowds who were gathering around John the Baptist thought that they heard what they were hoping for. Namely, they thought that they were hearing the Messiah. John was quick to disabuse them, however: he was not the one. Indeed, he insisted that he was not even in the same league with the one who was to come!
Then John began to tell them more about the one who was to come, and I wonder if John's description sounded like what they were hoping for.
Now, to be sure, the treasury of messianic predictions and allusions found across the generations of Old Testament texts features a multi-faceted picture of the one who was to come. But, naturally, people hear what they want to hear, and so it may be that the popular expectations about the Messiah were more oriented towards Israel's comfort, security, and victory. The portrait John painted, however, was a sobering picture of judgment.
The divine judgment in John’s preaching was represented in terms of sorting: in this case, sorting the wheat from the chaff. We recognize, of course, that this particular act of God is a pattern with him. In the beginning, he separated light from dark, and in the end, he will separate sheep from goats.
In our day, it has become rather fashionable to think in terms of gray rather than black and white. But our prevailing perception of gray may simply be a symptom of the fact that we have mixed light and darkness so that we no longer recognize either. But make no mistake: the one who comes will separate.
In the first section of our assigned gospel passage, John talks about the one who was to come. And then, in the second part of the passage, he comes. Jesus himself arrives on the scene to be baptized.
Luke does not favor us with quite as much detail about Jesus’ baptism as, say, Matthew does. The critical point for Luke, however, is the empowerment and affirmation of God on Jesus. In a unique moment where all three members of the Trinity are manifested to the senses, the Spirit descends on the Son, and the Father declares his love and approval. It is a lovely and powerfully relational moment.
The people of that day had the good sense to be waiting expectantly. Unfortunately, their senses were not altogether reliable. They thought the Messiah was someone who was not. And when the Messiah did appear in their midst, they largely failed to recognize and embrace him for who he was.
Application
We might puzzle over how to preach baptism from an Old Testament text. After all, baptism appears out of the blue (at least in terms of the canon of Scripture) when we turn to the New Testament and are introduced to John the Baptist. Whatever the people in John’s audience understood him and themselves to be doing, it was not based on an Old Testament practice. It may well have been informed by practices developed by certain groups during the intertestamental period, but that comes long after Isaiah. What, then, does Isaiah 43 have to say to your congregation or mine on a Sunday when we are contemplating Jesus’ baptism?
On the one hand, there is the water and river imagery — “When you pass through the waters, I will be with you; and through the rivers, they shall not overwhelm you” — and there is something lovely about an affirmation of the Lord being with us in the waters of baptism. Even the image of our ‘passing through’ the waters might be a fruitful one. But I suspect that the better connection to be made with Isaiah 43 is in the first verse: “Fear not, for I have redeemed you; I have called you by name, you are mine.”
The scene in Isaiah is clearly not one of baptism. Yet there is a connection to be made simply because the one who spoke in Isaiah 43 is the same one who spoke in Luke 3, and he is the same one who deals with you and me. Even if the Old Testament lection is not overtly about baptism, the relevance is not in the sacrament but in the unchanging Lord. And so, we are right to rejoice in baptism as an affirmation and celebration of the one who names and claims: the one who knows us and makes us his own.
In the Gospel lection, God the Father publicly affirms Jesus as his own. Jesus is unique, to be sure, and so we must be hermeneutically careful about how much of Jesus’ story we project onto ourselves. Yet inasmuch as we are adopted and made joint heirs with Christ, we are on solid ground when we embrace this passage for ourselves. It is, first and most of all, a Christological passage: it tells us about who Jesus is. But the gospel message extends sonship to us, and the Spirit bears witness with our spirit to call God, “Abba Father.”
Finally, the brief episode from Acts is a provocative one for our consideration. In the Luke passage, the Spirit descends on Jesus as he emerges from baptism. In the Acts passage, however, the folks in Samaria had evidently emerged from baptism some time earlier, but they had not yet received the Spirit.
Personally, I would hesitate to build a whole “second blessing” theology from this passage. I think the episode from Acts 8 is a helpful corrective, though, to any liturgical tendency to turn baptism into some sort of magical act by which the work of God is automatically imparted. It is a means of his grace, to be sure, but so is the preaching of the word, and we know that the Spirit does not produce identical results each time the word is preached. Why, then, should baptism be reckoned as a cookie cutter act?
We take the passages together — the witness of Isaiah, of Luke’s Gospel, and of Acts — and they combine to speak to us. They speak to us of each of the Persons of the Trinity. They speak to us of the nature of our relationship to God. And they speak to us of what is available to us by his grace.
Alternative Application(s)
Luke 3:15-17, 21-22 — “The Emcee Ministry”
Certain biblical characters are so unique that one hesitates to domesticate them by trying to see ourselves in them. Mary and Joseph, for example, play a unique role in the plan of God. No one before or since has done what God had Joseph and Mary do.
John the Baptist is another historically unique character. Jesus highlights the watershed moment that John occupies, saying that “among those born of women there has arisen no one greater than John the Baptist. Yet the one who is least in the kingdom of heaven is greater than he” (Matthew 11:11 ESV). No one else in history plays quite the role that John does.
That said, I do think that John can serve as a helpful role model for us. You and I don’t have John’s unique calling, yet how he performed his can be instructive for how we perform ours. And not ours only, but also the living and serving that the people in our pews do, as well.
I like to refer to John the Baptist as the great emcee. The role of the emcee, you know, is to introduce others and then to sit down. The emcee plays a pivotal, high-profile role. Yet, still, he and the audience are all very clear about the fact that the event — the occasion, the gathering — is not about him: it’s about someone else.
John evidently attracted huge crowds, yet John remained clear that it wasn’t meant to be about him. John knew that there was one coming after him. And the one who was coming “is mightier than I... the strap of whose sandals I am not worthy to untie.”
There is no equating the emcee with the guest of honor or the keynote speaker. John came to prepare the way, but ultimately the emcee sits down and forfeits the stage to the guest of honor. John knew his place, and he directed the people’s attention to the expectation of the one who was coming, the one who was greater, the one who would bring a whole different kind of baptism.
We do well to take our cue from John. The human ego is so naturally prone to think that we are the star of the show and all the world around us is simply supporting cast. Our greatest privilege, however, is to prepare the way of the Lord wherever we go. Our most important work is to introduce him. And our constant attitude must be that we do what we do for the sake of the one who is greater, whose sandals we are not worthy to untie.
