Baptism of Our Lord Sunday
January 11, 2026

Sermon

Camille Cook Howe
Pastor

Matthew 3:13–17

I think I would have had the same reaction to the request of Jesus’ baptism as that of John the Baptist. Confusion and objection. If I had been John the Baptist out in the wilderness shouting for people to repent of their sins and take responsibility for the state of the world, then Jesus getting in the line for a baptism would have been astonishing for me. “No, no, Jesus, this isn’t for you. This is for the sinners!” Our translation says, “John would have prevented him.” Another translation says, “John forbade him.” John was clearly uncomfortable baptizing Jesus. The ritual, as outlined by John, was for the people of God in desperate need of a new beginning and in desperate need of connection to God; this ritual was not designed for Jesus.

But Jesus did not agree; he wanted to be baptized. And so, the very first time we meet Jesus as an adult, he is wading in the River Jordan, participating in this ancient ritual of cleansing and new beginnings. Not because he needed to, but because he wanted to.

Enter the new regime — Jesus’ public ministry was launched, not with a grand coronation, but with this simple act of humility and faith. There were a variety of ways Jesus could have decided to launch his public ministry — arriving at Herod’s door and demanding entrance, preaching a powerful and scathing sermon in a synagogue, or rallying people to meet him in the streets and set the world on fire. But instead, Jesus started on the riverbank out in the wilderness, not the halls of power, not the temples, not the markets, but out in the place where people were seeking new life and new beginnings, out in the place where people were looking and listening for God. Jesus started quietly, he started humbly, he started with baptism.

In the liturgy of the sacrament of baptism, we say, “God claims us and seals us to show that we belong to God.” Being claimed by God, knowing we are a child of God, being fully accepted by God — when internalized, this knowledge can sustain our lives. What if that type of reminder and marker was meaningful for Jesus as well? What if, as he started his public ministry, Jesus also wanted to be reminded of the claim on his life?

Life would not be easy for Jesus. When Jesus launched his ministry, the world was not peaceful and calm — it was scarred and disfigured by evil and greed and violence, where people had largely turned away from God. Corruption and exploitation and poverty and suffering were pervasive. The work of Jesus was incredibly demanding, counter-cultural, and ultimately dangerous. Jesus must have known this was to be the case, and so maybe before he got to work, he also wanted the blessings offered in baptism — the blessings of being claimed by God, first and foremost.

When John acquiesced and baptized Jesus, it says, “A voice from the heaven said, ‘This is my Son, the Beloved, with whom I am well pleased.’” That is a profound blessing and demarcation. Before anyone could call him a king or a messiah or a leader or a friend or a traitor or a blasphemer or a heretic or a martyr, God first would call Jesus, “Beloved.” And the same is true for each of us — the first title placed upon us is “beloved.” Not the names we will carry or the nicknames we will be called or the roles we will fill or the jobs we will do or the mistakes we will make, first and foremost, beloved.

There is a line I love from Dolly Parton when someone asked her how it makes her feel when people make dumb blonde jokes about her. She said, “Oh, it doesn’t bother me because I know I’m not dumb and… I know I’m not blonde.” Dolly’s life was profoundly shaped by growing up poor in material things but rich in love and Christian faith in her family home. Listen to Dolly’s song, “Jesus and Gravity,” when you get home. It is a song from Dolly about staying grounded and humble while also being lifted up by her faith.

I’ve got

Something lifting me up

Something holding me down

Something to give me wings and

Something to keep my feet on the ground

I’ve got all I need

Jesus and gravity

The act of baptism, in its holiness and its simplicity, is something that both grounds us and strengthens us. Maybe Jesus wanted to participate in this act because of its sacred simplicity and because of its universal accessibility — the baptism was truly available for all who desired new life, new beginnings, new connections to God.

When I worked in London, a request came in for a baptism of a grandchild with a very special offer. The family said they would like to commission a new baptismal font for the occasion. They had an artist draw up a design for the font that would be used for the occasion and then gifted to the church, replacing the church’s “rather plain” (their words) baptismal font. The artist selected to create the font included the family’s name and crest on the side of the font. There was a fox on the family crest. A fox! A dove or even a wild goose, maybe, but there is no way a fox could be a Christian symbol. They seemed less interested in having the child baptized into the symbols of the church and more interested in the symbols and values of their family. I am sure you can predict the outcome of that request… that’s a no!

“Rather plain” is the point… by water and the Holy Spirit, we receive the simple and profound sacramental reminder that our lives are held in God’s hands. It is what we all need throughout our lives — simple reminders and heavenly blessings.

Alice Walker, the author of The Color Purple, tells the story of living most of her life with her head down. When she was young, she lost one of her eyes after being shot accidentally by one of her brothers with a BB gun. Her family was poor, and they did not have a car, so by the time she was taken to the hospital a week later, she was permanently blind in that eye. To make matters worse, the eye was badly damaged, scarred, and disfigured. She spent years of her life painfully shy with her head down so no one would see her eye. Eventually, a doctor told her that he could give her a glass eye and it would look almost the same as her real eye. She got that glass eye, and it changed things. Many years later, Alice was putting her young daughter Rebecca to bed. She noticed that Rebecca was staring intently at her injured eye. Rebecca clasped her mother’s face in her hands and studied the eye carefully.

Alice prepared herself to hear an innocent yet hurtful statement from Rebecca as she realized her mother’s impairment. Finally, Rebecca asked her mother a question, “Where did you get that world in your eye?”

It is a blessing to be seen and claimed and loved. And that is what happens in baptism. With words and water and the Holy Spirit, we start our Christian lives with sacred blessings and words of affirmation. Then everything else we face in our lives is rooted and grounded in being claimed by God, known by God, and loved by God. These days, we can and should return frequently to these simple and profound reminders. When we are incredulous by the images we see in the news, when we are bereft at the losses we face in our lives, when we are stressed out by the demands placed upon us, when we are anxious about the news from the doctors, when we are overwhelmed by life around us, when we are depressed about the life within us — we must go back to the promises made in our baptisms — we must go back to the powerful affirmation made to us that in all things and at all times, we belong to God.

“Remember your baptism,” Martin Luther famously instructs us, and I don’t think this sixteenth-century reformer and theologian was saying it in a suggestive, feel-good tone. I think Luther was ordering Christians to remember their baptisms — it was a demonstrative, compulsory, and lifesaving command to remember that God has claimed us as God’s own. Remember your baptism, before you get out of bed, remember your baptism, before you turn on the news, remember your baptism, before you head out the door, remember your baptism, before you do anything else, remember your baptism!

For several years now, when I drop my children off at school, and they get out of the car, I have said goodbye to them, and then I add, “God be with you!” It is a reminder to my children about God’s presence with them each day. It is a reminder of their baptisms in Christ Jesus. And it also is a reminder to me, that they are held always in God’s hands. And without this type of faith and these daily reminders, I don’t really know how you function in this world of ours. It is too scary. It is too painful. It is too chaotic.

It is the church’s job to remind us about the promises that God is with us so we can make it through another week. It is the church’s job to preach good news in a world in desperate need. It is the church’s job to help us remember our baptisms, so we have faith in God’s love for us and for this world.

“God be with you” — say it to those you love as they head out into the world this week. And say it to yourself as you seek to live with courage and compassion and hope.

“God be with you” — it is a prayer and a promise!

Amen.

Sermon © Fourth Presbyterian Church