Precious in her sight
It can sometimes seem there is a tension between thinking of Jesus as God, Jesus as the Son of God, and Jesus as a human being.
Did Jesus lean into the Godhead fully upon his birth.
Was he, as an infant aware that he was God and his body, since he was God, carried all that God is only in earthly form?
Or, did he come to realize over time that he was God?
Did he start to notice that he knew “things” and understood them differently than his family?
Did he grow into this role, this earthly, bodily God in our midst?
Did he shed a certain skin before morphing from Jesus into the Christ?
Now, if you think these questions are fun, you too can accompany me and my random thoughts to the post office anytime you’d like!
But I ask them because I am wondering about the very nature of baptism.
What happens?
What changes?
I am sure we all have thoughts and expectations of what happens but for me, I find clarity in what John the Baptist is saying this morning.
He distinguishes his baptism of water with Jesus’ baptism with the Holy Spirit and fire.
Now, this is not a good time to be lauding the efficacy of fire as a source of cleansing, the fires in California are very much on my mind, but there is an aspect of change and renewal in fires that burn with control and care.
Think of fire being able to turn sand into glass.
Think further the work of a glassblower creating beautiful art from what used to be that common thing found everywhere.
Think of the skill and beauty produced only from the imagination of that glassblower.
The contours of the glass lamp, a piece of hand formed glass to hang on a necklace from Murano Italy.
Think of the windows in this space, the imperfections, the light that streams in.
All of this is created with heat and fire and, when done well, love.
And so, when John talks about a baptism through fire, I ask you to put aside the notion of devastation for a moment, as difficult as that might be, and think of something beautiful.
~ Pause ~
Chaff is necessary.
When we read that Jesus will burn the chaff with unquenchable fire, we might recoil and think, wow, I better shape up so that I do not meet such a fire, such destruction formed without care or control.
That might be our first reaction but I remind you, chaff is necessary if we are to realize the seed.
Think of the wheat plant.
Every seed carries with it the DNA necessary for it to grow into a plant.
Place it in the proper soil, water it, make sure there is enough sun but not too much.
Tend the garden.
Weed the weeds and eventually a whole plant will emerge.
First the roots that will suck up the nutrients in the soil.
Then a crown will emerge followed by the first leaves breaking through the ground.
Leaves that will stretch toward the sunlight, turning to face the light until it is time to rest following the dusk.
Then, these little shoots called tillers, or perhaps known as stalks to some, will form and tillers will eventually carry the spike.
The spike will hold many seeds; those new seeds protected by that plant part’s namesake, the literal spikes.
And the right time, the wheat is harvested.
In ancient times and even still today in poorer countries, the harvested tillers would be brought to the threshing floor where farmers, or in my experience from when I was in Guinea-Bissau, the farmers’ wives would beat the plants with large sticks to separate the dry and dusty excess from the ripe and fertile wheat grain.
Then, that excess would be disposed of.
And that excess, or at least some of it, is called chaff.
All of what brought the seed to maturity, the tiller, the spike, the leaves, are no longer necessary, they are discarded or burned with fire.
They fulfilled their purpose, now harvested, the wheat will become food, bread, seed for a new crop next year, and the purpose of everything becomes transformed.
Only the wheat remains.
~ Pause ~
Now the waters.
He emerged from the waters.
And I can picture it so clearly.
He is drawn from the crowd.
Perhaps he waited on shore, waited in line as others climbed down the bank for their own baptisms.
Perhaps he was the last to go.
And then he prayed.
See him kneeling by the shore, his robes still wet, his hair dripping.
He is praying deeply.
He is quiet.
Just moments ago he emerged from the waters, the water flowed from his face as he broke through the surface, for the briefest of seconds it covered his face as if a mask, a shroud that cleansed him.
There was no need for purification, not for Jesus, but now the world would soon be cleansed of its sin.
And now he prayed.
And the Spirit appeared in the form of a dove and God appeared in the form of a voice and everything was complete.
And everything was changed.
God’s boomed from the heavens.
“This is my son.”
I am well pleased.
Jesus confirmed we need the waters of baptism.
So that throughout our lives we may be cleansed, so that we be a part of community, so that we might know God.
So that our chaff might be left on the threshing floor and burned with an unquenchable, gleeful fire.
~ Pause ~
How do I deserve this, this thing called salvation?
How have you come to expect such things?
Do you not anger?
Do I not get angry too?
Do we not hurt and gossip and say things out of turn?
We are not perfect.
I am not perfect.
How do I deserve this, this thing called salvation?
But then, that question is wrong.
It is not about deserving this.
It is about love.
You are loved.
Your baptism confirms that love and if you are not baptized, you are still loved.
Listen to Isaiah:
Do not fear, for I have redeemed you;
I have called you by name, you are mine.
Through Isaiah, God is talking to a people exiled.
Who have lost their homes and their livelihoods and forced to live in a new land.
Though now they suffer, they are loved.
And they will be loved.
On your worst days, God will lift you from the waters and you will not be overwhelmed.
You will walk through fire and still you will not be burned.
Because you have been chosen by God and God has called you by name.
God loved the idea of you so much that God created you.
You are loved.
And though we suffer and though sometimes we suffer and sometimes we sin, do not fear, God is with you.
You are loved.
You are called by name.
You were created in glory and formed in that glory.
You are loved.
And this morning, as we celebrate the Baptism of our Lord, we remember our own baptisms and the covenant we made with God and each other.
We remember that we emerged once from the waters and all that is left behind is the chaff of excess and unnecessary things.
No longer beholden to roots, we are freed through God.
Our chaff now burns.
We are cleansed.
~ Pause ~
You know, I mentioned that walk to the post office.
I often think about things when I walk, be it hiking or running errands and this week, I was walking from St. James’ to the charging station downtown.
I was in a bit of mood, feeling kind of down.
It happens sometimes and I was also thinking about this sermon.
And considering my mood, I was kind of focusing on the Babylonian exile portion, the question of why do we suffer rather than focusing on the fact that we are loved in our suffering.
Maybe I was thinking about the waters, rather than not being overwhelmed, the fires rather than not being burned.
And so I kept walking or shuffling or mumbling to myself; whatever one does when they are feeling a certain way.
And then a woman approached me.
She was carrying a bag.
I moved to the right expecting her to move to the left so that we wouldn’t walk into one another.
But she headed toward me.
And she reached in her bag.
And she pulled out a mini Twix bar.
She then handed me the candy and said, “Here, I give these to everybody.”
I give these to everybody.
I was seen.
I was known.
I was precious in her sight.
Friends.
You are loved.
You are seen by God and no matter where you are in life and no matter your mood, God sees you.
Always.
And in the spirit of that woman, here: have a Twix.
A reminder that God gives you everything.
Amen.
