Sermon for the First Sunday after Epiphany, Year A (1-11-26)

Why on Earth does Jesus come to be baptized?

That is the quiet question at the heart of this day. Jesus arrives at the Jordan River, where people are confessing sins, repenting, and preparing for judgment. And he, Jesus, steps into line. John the Baptist immediately senses that something is not right. “I need to be baptized by you,” John says, “and do you come to me?” John recognizes what we are tempted to forget: Jesus does not belong in that water. John knows before we do, that Jesus and sin - do not mix. And yet, Jesus insists. “Let it be so now,” he says, “for it is proper for us in this way to fulfill all righteousness.”

By recalling this somewhat confusing event each year we proclaim something essential about who God is and how God chooses to be with us. Jesus does not stand apart from us. He stands with us. He enters the water not because he needs renewal, but because we do. Now, this may not sound dramatic at first, but we know how rare this kind of identification really is. Think about how often people with power, status, or authority keep a careful distance from those who are struggling. We see it in workplaces, in schools, even sometimes in families. The one who “doesn’t have to” gets to step aside. But Jesus never does this: the Son of God chooses solidarity over distance.

The prophet Isaiah gives us language for this kind of Savior. “Here is my servant, whom I uphold,” God says, “my chosen, in whom my soul delights.” This servant does not cry out or break the bruised reed. He does not overpower the weak or shame the vulnerable. Instead, he brings justice quietly, faithfully, patiently. So, when Jesus steps into the Jordan, Isaiah’s promise takes on flesh. And most notably, Jesus doesn't begin his ministry with miracles or sermons. He begins it by standing shoulder to shoulder... with sinners. With those who have run out of answers. With the ones who need a new life that they can't make for themselves. With people, like me and you. The Beloved Son places himself where broken people are already standing.

That matters for us. Because many of us come to church carrying the quiet belief that God is most present when we are at our best—when our faith is strong, our lives are in order, our prayers are confident. But Jesus begins his ministry not in the temple, not on a mountaintop - but in muddy water. It's more like the God who shows up in the hospital room, not with answers but with presence. Or the God who sits at the kitchen table with someone staring at unpaid bills. Or the God who looks to the horizon of a new chapter life as age changes the reality of daily living. Jesus meets people where renewal and need are already present.

For many people, this is the hardest part to believe. We are used to affirming words being withheld until we’ve earned them. Approval comes after performance. Love comes with conditions. But here - before Jesus has preached a sermon, healed a disease, or gone to the cross - God declares delight in this ministry of solidarity. That is Good News for anyone who has ever felt like they are only as valuable as their productivity, their success, or their ability to hold things together. The heavens open. The Spirit descends like a dove. The Father speaks. And in this moment, the Church sees not only who Jesus is, but who God is. Father, Son, and Holy Spirit are revealed—not in an abstract doctrine, but in saving action. God is present, relational, and actively involved in the healing of the world.

Peter later reflects on this moment in Acts when he says, “You know the message God sent… how God anointed Jesus of Nazareth with the Holy Spirit and with power.” Peter is clear: everything that follows—Jesus’ healing, teaching, forgiving, and even his death and resurrection—flows out of this beginning. Jesus’ baptism marks the start of a ministry that is for all people. God shows no partiality.

That matters because many of us quietly wonder if we belong. Whether our doubts disqualify us. Whether our past still defines us. Whether our faith is “strong enough.” Jesus’ baptism answers that question before we can even ask it. He stands in the water with sinners before anyone has proven anything, signed on to any doctrine, or given anything of themselves.

In our baptism, we are joined to Christ. His life becomes our life. His death becomes our death. And His resurrection - well that part becomes our ultimate hope. Baptism is not primarily about our memory of the moment or our understanding of it. It is about God’s promise which empowers it.

That's why baptism still speaks when faith feels thin. When prayer feels dry. When life feels heavier than expected. Baptism tells us that God’s claim on us does not disappear when we struggle.

This day we remember that Jesus did not come to save us from afar. He came close. He entered the water. He took his place among us. And because he did, we can trust that there is no place we go—no grief, no fear, no failure—where God has not already chosen to be. The God who speaks over the waters still speaks today. Not to condemn, but to claim. Not to shame, but to name us as beloved, and to walk us into a renewed life.

And that is Good News worth returning to, again and again.

Amen.