As the decorations come down and resolutions fade, mid-January often feels like returning to earth after the holiday season’s heightened moments. Perhaps you’ve noticed how quickly our ambitious New Year’s commitments meet reality’s gravity. The gym crowds thin out, the healthy recipes get more creative with “substitutions,” and those meditation apps send increasingly hopeful notifications.
Yet beneath our culture’s fixation with self-improvement lies a deeper human longing for meaningful change. We sense there must be more than simply tweaking our habits or updating our goals. Like those who traveled out to hear John at the Jordan River, we’re drawn to voices that speak of authentic transformation, of beginning again not just with renewed willpower, but with renewed purpose.
Consider the profound difference between a resolution and a reset. Resolutions often focus on what we’ll do differently. A reset speaks to who we’re becoming. This is what we witness in today’s story of Jesus’ baptism – not just a moment of individual dedication, but the beginning of a movement that would transform the world through divine love.
Over these past weeks, we’ve witnessed profound moments of spiritual recognition and growth. Two weeks ago, Simeon and Anna’s patient faithfulness culminated in their joyful recognition of the infant Jesus in the temple. Their prophecies pointed toward God’s promises taking shape in unexpected ways. Last week, we returned to the temple with young Jesus, whose growing awareness of his unique relationship with God foreshadowed his future ministry.
Today’s baptismal scene brings these themes to fruition. Just as Simeon and Anna recognized God’s presence in an infant, John the Baptist recognizes divine purpose in his cousin Jesus. The child who amazed temple teachers now stands ready to begin his public ministry. Through these stories, we see a pattern of growing revelation: from faithful watchers recognizing God’s promise, to a young Jesus growing in wisdom, to a mature Jesus stepping fully into his mission through the waters of baptism. Each moment builds toward this divine declaration: “You are my Son, whom I dearly love; in you I find happiness”
In Luke’s careful historical account, he begins by naming powerful figures – Emperor Tiberius, Governor Pontius Pilate, and local rulers like Herod – to anchor this story in a specific time and place. This was an era when Rome’s empire dominated daily life, and the Jewish people lived under foreign control, longing for God’s promised redemption. Yet rather than focusing on these powerful leaders, Luke draws our attention to an unusual figure in the wilderness: John the Baptist.
Like the prophets of old such as Isaiah and Elijah, John emerges from the desert with a compelling message of transformation. His call to baptism built upon familiar Jewish practices of ritual washing, but with a crucial difference – this was a one-time act marking a complete change of heart and life direction. People from all walks of life traveled out to the Jordan River, where John challenged them to demonstrate their commitment through changed behavior.
Luke weaves this story using imagery that would resonate deeply with his audience: highways being made straight recalls Isaiah’s prophecies, while the Jordan River location echoes Joshua leading Israel into the promised land. When John speaks of axes at tree roots and winnowing forks separating wheat from chaff, he uses agricultural metaphors his listeners would immediately understand.
The climax comes with Jesus’ baptism, where Luke uniquely emphasizes prayer as the moment when heaven opens. The Spirit’s descent like a dove recalls Genesis’ creation story, while the divine voice declaring Jesus as a dearly loved son connects to royal psalms and prophetic texts about God’s chosen one.
This passage serves as a crucial turning point in Luke’s gospel. The infant recognized by Simeon and Anna, the boy who amazed temple teachers, now stands ready to begin his public ministry. Through this baptismal moment, Luke shows us how genuine transformation involves both human readiness to change and divine empowerment for new life.
In our own journeys of transformation, we often find ourselves yearning for fresh starts. Like a high school student grappling with peer pressure and identity questions, we too face moments when we must decide who we really want to be. The wilderness voice still calls us to examine our choices and realign our path.
Some of us navigate career transitions, wondering if our work truly reflects our values. John’s challenge to tax collectors and soldiers speaks to modern professionals asking hard questions about ethical business practices and workplace integrity. What would it mean to conduct our daily work with genuine concern for others’ wellbeing?
Others enter retirement searching for renewed purpose, much like those who approached John asking, “What should we do?” His practical responses remind us that transformation shows up in concrete actions – sharing resources, speaking truth, serving others. Even in life’s later chapters, God invites us into new expressions of meaningful service.
John’s call to practical action echoes in our own congregation’s opportunities this week. At 12:30 today, we’ll gather in Hess Hall for lunch to discuss our capital campaign to replace our heating and cooling systems – a concrete way we can care for our shared spiritual home for years to come. Then on Wednesday, we’ll begin our study of the book, “The Land is Not Empty”, exploring how Jesus calls us to transform our understanding of faith, justice, and our relationship with Indigenous peoples.
This week, consider one area where you sense a need for reset. Perhaps it’s committing to regular reflection time each morning, choosing to have that difficult but honest conversation, or identifying one practical way to share your resources with others. The same Spirit that descended at Jesus’ baptism still moves among us, empowering us to live differently. God’s affirming voice still speaks: you are loved. From that foundation of grace, we can step forward into new patterns of living that better reflect God’s love for the world.
The good news is that God’s transforming grace breaks into our world not through imperial power or religious hierarchy, but through unexpected voices in wilderness places. Luke shows us a God who works at the margins, calling people to wade into waters of renewal. This same God who once hovered over creation’s waters now moves over the Jordan, declaring again that love will reshape our chaos into new life.
In Jesus’ baptism, we witness a profound revelation of divine character. The God who once parted waters to lead Israel to freedom now enters those same waters in solidarity with searching humanity. When heaven opens and the Spirit descends, we see the Trinity’s beauty on display – the Father’s delight, the Son’s humble obedience, the Spirit’s empowering presence all working together to launch a ministry of redemption.
This moment echoes backwards through scripture – to creation’s dawn, to Noah’s flood, to the Red Sea crossing, to Israel’s Jordan crossing – and forward to the cross and resurrection, where Jesus will pass through deeper waters still. Each time, God uses water to mark transition from death to life, from bondage to freedom, from old identity to new.
Through baptism, Jesus reveals God’s pattern of redemption: divine love enters into our human experience, embraces our need for transformation, and empowers us for new life. This isn’t just a historical event – it’s a picture of how God continues to work, meeting us in our own wilderness moments and speaking over us words of beloved belonging.
The same waters that welcomed Jesus still beckon us today. Not to a superficial fresh start, but to deep renewal grounded in God’s grace. As you navigate these winter weeks, remember: true transformation begins not with our resolve, but with God’s “beloved” spoken over us. In the stream of grace, every day offers a chance for reset.
Will you pray with me?
Renewing God, as we wade into this new year’s waters, help us trust your transforming love. Guide us beyond surface changes to authentic renewal, grounded in your grace. Amen.
In crafting today’s sermon, I employed AI assistants like Claude and Apple Intelligence, yet the ultimate responsibility for its content rests with me. These tools offered valuable perspectives, but the most influential sermon preparation hinges on biblical study, theological insight, personal reflection, and divine guidance. I see AI as a supportive aid to enrich the sermon process while ensuring my own voice in proclaiming the Word of God.
Rev. Andrew Conard 