Mark 1:10 “As Jesus was coming up out of the water, he saw heaven being torn open and the Spirit descending on him like a dove.”

Jesus is the “Christ” which means “the anointed one.” You may remember that there were three jobs or “offices” that people in Old Testament times began by having oil poured over their heads: Prophet, Priest, and King. Jesus came to be the great fulfillment of all three, and his baptism is also his anointing. Now he was officially Israel’s Prophet, Israel’s Priest, and Israel’s King. The only difference is, as the Apostle Peter says in Acts 10, Jesus was anointed with the Holy Spirit instead of oil. He received a much higher anointing for a much higher task.

The Spirit brought with him the gift of power for his ministry. Immediately following Jesus’ baptism we hear that the Spirit led him into the wilderness to face the Devil in his temptation. Later we hear that he returned to Galilee in the power of the Spirit (Luke 4). It’s not as though Jesus had never possessed the Spirit’s presence before this, but at his baptism he received a special outpouring of the Spirit’s gifts and powers for the hard work ahead of him.

While we can see the importance of all this for his work, maybe it seems a little matter of fact to us. Then let’s not forget that Jesus’ baptism was a real baptism. What the Lord gave to John and Jesus, and to us through these words, is a little glimpse into the invisible goings on of the spiritual world.

Perhaps you have read some of the novels by Christian author Frank Peretti that attempt to describe what’s going on behind the scenes in the realm of angels and demons at the same time that people are struggling through various earthly trials and challenges. Peretti paints dramatic battles between the demons and the angels as they fight to influence human behavior. While the stories make exciting fiction, the demons are portrayed with too much strength and the angels with too little relative to each other. The angels in the stories even depend on human prayers to help them.

Here, however, God makes visible for a few moments what otherwise happens behind the scenes in our baptisms. If you could see a baptism the way that God sees it, then you would see the heavens torn open as God prepares to cross the boundary that separates us from him. You would see the Spirit come rushing down from heaven and piercing the chest of that little baby or that trembling adult as he makes his home in a new heart. You would see, with your own eyes, that this is a person in whom the Spirit of God now lives.

On the outside, our baptisms may look quite plain, but here the Spirit comes bearing such wonderful gifts. God not only lives with us. He lives in us by his Spirit. It may be true that to err is human, and that nobody’s perfect, and that will remain true our entire lives. But by our baptisms we are no longer mere men and women. With the power of God’s own Spirit working within us, there is real help and real hope for a changed life. The Spirit can open up our minds to comprehend God’s word. He can open up our hearts to reflect God’s love. He has opened up our lives to carry out the meaning and purpose that God always intended for us, because in our baptisms, the Spirit came bearing his gifts.

Mark 1:9 “At that time Jesus came from Nazareth in Galilee and was baptized by John in the Jordan.”

There it is. Jesus came. Jesus was baptized. Jesus got soaked.

In order to understand why this is so special, one of the great moments of all time, we need to ask the question, “Why?” “Why did Jesus go to be baptized?” The other gospel writers tell us that John the Baptist wondered the same thing. “I need to be baptized by you, and do you come to me?”

With his baptism, Jesus was formally beginning his public ministry, entering into his saving work as the Messiah. As you know, the work Jesus did to save us did not consist so much in training us as it did in replacing us. He came to be our substitute. He came to bear our sins, to make himself responsible for their guilt. That was not something which took place first at the cross, but something he bore for us throughout his ministry.

No doubt the sinless Son of God felt that load of sin and guilt weighing down on him very heavily. That is what made baptism such a fitting way to begin his ministry. John had earlier described his baptism as “a baptism of repentance for the forgiveness of sins.” With our sins on his shoulders, bearing down upon his soul, Jesus received this statement of sins forgiven, assuring him and us that the Father will not hold them against us.

Do you see the extraordinary nature of his love here? Maybe it will help us to take a few moments to consider what sort of burdens we are willing to bear for each other. We devote an enormous amount of time to trying to make our lives in this world as easy and comfortable as they can possibly be. We set our hearts on having certain things. We will work like mad to get them. In our better moments, we will break away from the all-important work of enjoying ourselves for a little while to help someone else. We may dig into our pockets and come up with a little cash for them. Maybe we can use some of our skills to help someone out. On rare occasions we might even open our homes to someone who is down and out.

But let them intrude too far into the happy little world we had created for ourselves and what happens? We get tired of the burden. We start to resent the neediness of those we help. Then we start to resent the people themselves. Almost inevitably, we draw the line. “No more!” To us, perhaps, it just seems fair. To God, it just looks selfish.

Now look at Jesus coming to be baptized by John, bearing the sins of the world. He loved you and me so much that he carried the burden of our sins every moment of his earthly ministry until finally it killed him. He went to sleep at night with our sins. He got up every morning with our sins. He died of our sins. When Jesus came to John to be baptized, he fully knew what he was getting into and what it was going to cost him. He did it only because in his love he knew it was the only way to save us.

If that does not make our jaws drop and our eyes widen, then, my friends, we have lost our sense of wonder! Our Savior shows us incomparable love when he comes bearing our sins.

Mark 10:13 “People were bringing little children to Jesus to have him touch them, but the disciples rebuked them. When Jesus saw this he was indignant. He said to them, “Let the little children come to me, and do not hinder them, for the kingdom of God belongs to such as these. I tell you the truth, anyone who will not receive the kingdom of God like a little child will never enter it.”

Apparently the idea that a relationship with Jesus is for the mature isn’t a modern idea. The Twelve also considered him an adult concern.

Jesus strongly disagreed. What the disciples didn’t consider was that Jesus came to love and to save little children, just like everyone else.

“Saved?” someone might ask. “Are you suggesting that children are sinners?” No more or less than anyone else. I have four children, and in my experience it didn’t take long for their selfish side to surface. “There is no difference, for all of sinned and fall short of the glory of God,” the Apostle Paul writes in the book of Romans. A couple of chapters later he gives the evidence no one can escape. “Death came to all men, because all have sinned.” Don’t children die, aren’t they mortal, too?    

“Are you saying, then, that children who die are lost?” No, not in every case. Jesus bled and died on the cross to cover the sins of everyone, including the little children. By his sacrifice on the cross he purchased full and free forgiveness for the entire world. He removed every barrier for our membership in the kingdom of God. By his resurrection from the dead he demonstrated that death can now be the gateway, the door, to a new and never-ending life.

“But isn’t a place in that new life, a place in God’s kingdom, something that has to be personally received by faith? Are you suggesting that children can believe?” Yes, I am suggesting, I am asserting, that they believe in Jesus and his gifts. “But how is that possible?” Look at Jesus’ words: “I tell you the truth, anyone who will not receive the kingdom of God like a little child will never enter it.” It is we, the adults, who struggle through doubts and skepticism. It is the children who simply believe like the song says, “Jesus loves me, this I know. For the Bible tells me so.”

Years ago, when my daughter was a little girl, she more or less adopted an older, single lady in our congregation as a second mom or grandmother. Along the way she got to know her parents well, too. The father was in failing health, and one day he died. No one this close to my daughter had ever passed away before. As her parents, we weren’t quite sure how to break the news to her. We finally sat down with her and told her the news straight up. She thought for a moment. “You mean he is in heaven?” “Yes, Carrie, he is in heaven.” “Cool.” Now, who showed the greater faith, the worried parents, or the little four-year-old who simply trusted that this man was in heaven? She did so because she first trusted our Friend who is in heaven.

I am confident in the faith of children because I am confident of the power of God’s word. The Apostle Paul again tells us in his letter to the Romans that faith comes from hearing the message, and the message is heard through the word of Christ. Seven hundred years earlier God promised through the Prophet Isaiah that his word does not return to him empty, but it accomplishes what he desires, and achieves the purpose for which he sent it. His word is also involved in our baptisms. It lends them its power. And Peter assures us, “Baptism now saves you also.” In other words, God’s word can find its way into little hearts, whether accompanied by water or simply spoken into their ears.

“But can children really believe, with all their lack of developmental maturity?” Look at their faith in their earthly fathers and mothers. Don’t they trust them? Oh, they may be ornery at times, too. It is a real relationship. Christian faith isn’t the ability to spout long lists of theological truths. It isn’t a thunder and lightning experience at a single moment, though sometimes it comes with one. It is trust. Today I trust that the Kingdom of God belonged to the children Jesus blessed, and to our little children, because Jesus loves the little children, and he has made them his own.

Exodus 15:26 “If you listen carefully to the voice of the Lord your God and do what is right in his eyes, if you pay attention to his commands and keep all his decrees, I will not bring on you any of the diseases I brought on the Egyptians, for I am the Lord, who heals you.”

What kind of a God do you and I worship? People are naturally inclined to take extremist positions in their view of him. Before his gospel breakthrough, Martin Luther was raised to see God only as a merciless judge making impossible demands upon his people. He was a God who inspired only terror, fear, and trembling. There are still those who believe that a scowl, a frown, and a general spirit of gloominess are the normal uniform a Christian ought to wear. Following the Lord Jesus is the joyless, humorless burden we must bear if we don’t want to go to hell.

I believe the other extreme is more popular today. God is such an easy-going, mild-mannered, friendly sort of guy that you don’t have to take him seriously at all. One TV preacher with his permanently painted-on smile says that you can’t tell people that they are bad. God wants them to hear good news. A women once sat across the table in my office and argued that Jesus wouldn’t try to make a person feel guilty. He didn’t deal with people that way. I have run into any number of arm-chair theologians who are convinced that they don’t need to change. God loves them just the way they are.

It is tempting to say that the truth lies somewhere in the middle, but that’s not quite right, either. The God who spoke to Israel in Exodus 15, the Lord we follow, does take some seemingly extreme positions. But he is more than a flat, one-dimensional character.

Do you think that he takes his demands seriously? What does he say? “If you listen carefully to the voice of the Lord your God and do what is right in his eyes, if you pay attention to his commands and keep all his decrees, I will not bring on you any of the diseases I brought on the Egyptians…” When God is bringing his word to you, you had better sit up and pay attention. We ignore his voice at our peril. He expects that we not only hear what he has to say, but that we earnestly put it into practice. “…if you keep all his decrees…” he warns. This is no toothless set of general guidelines or suggestions. Our very lives are at stake. How many thousands of Egyptians died in the 10 plagues for failing to follow his commands? How many sinners does death fail to overcome today?

If it seems his demands are simply too much for us, it should. When he preaches his law or tests our loyalty, he is leading us to know ourselves. He is leading us to see that we are weak, helpless, and needy.

Then we are ready to see that knowing the Lord is knowing him as “… the Lord, who heals you.” When we hear that name, we may be inclined to think of more demands from our ruler. But this is “LORD” in all capital letters. This is God’s Old Testament salvation name. This is the name which reminds us that he has freely chosen to make us the objects of his love. This is the name that assures he is faithful. Even when we wander away, he comes looking for us. He will not stop until he finds us and reclaims us. Even when we have angered him he wants nothing more than to forgive us and reaffirm his love.

It is this Lord who heals us. That’s not just physical healing. That’s not just spiritual healing. It is completely comprehensive. His invisible hand is involved in every problem that has ever been resolved in our lives: physical, spiritual, emotional, relational or any other. Our God is the faithful Lord who heals us, and he exposes our weakness so that we might know this better.

Luke 13:8-9 “‘Sir,’ the man replied, ‘leave it alone for one more year, and I’ll dig around it and fertilize it. If it bears fruit next year, fine! If not, then cut it down.’”          

Leave it alone for one more year. The vineyard worker pleads for the fig tree to be spared. This is what Jesus does for us. He pleads for the Father not to treat us as our sins deserve. His pleas are always successful. They never fail, because they are based on his own work, and his own shed blood. The past is forgiven, all of it, always. But it is forgiven with an end in sight. Our Lord wants to enrich our future.

That starts with nurturing our faith. “I’ll dig around it and fertilize it,” the vineyard worker promises. First there is digging to do. The ground has to be prepared. Hard ground won’t let food and water in, and neither will hard hearts. So God goes to work softening them. And softening is almost always something of a violent process. Sharp blades cut into the ground and chop the soil apart.

The Lord softens hard hearts with a message that cuts, and beats, and rubs. I don’t like to be told I’m wrong any more than you do. I don’t like to have my selfishness and lovelessness exposed. But I need it.

A number of years ago my dentist noticed I was developing gum disease. He said I might need a procedure in which he would peel back the gums from my teeth, clean and polish below the gum line, and then sew it all back together again. I had always been faithful about brushing, but I was lackadaisical about flossing. My dentist had to confront me about my habits, and threaten me with a nasty procedure, to spare me from deeper pain. Six months of regular flossing later, everything was in order again, and the dentist didn’t have to cut my mouth up.

In a similar way we need God’s law to tell us what we don’t want to hear, and to confront what we don’t want to change. So God’s law tells me that I am not being good. It warns me that my sinful habits can make life uncomfortable now, and plunge me into eternal pain in the life to come. It digs. It cuts. It beats. It rubs. But it is making my heart ready to receive something good.

In the parable, that good thing was fertilizer. In the Greek, it is literally manure. It may smell a little, but it brings the tree food and life. The gospel is a little like that. The “smelly” part of the gospel is getting past the idea that I can’t save myself. I need Jesus. And the message of the cross is foolishness in the eyes of the world. The idea that one man’s death thousands of years ago sets everything right between me and God doesn’t smell quite right to human reason. But that’s what the gospel says.

The nourishing part of the gospel is like finding a feast unlike anything we have ever known. God doesn’t love the good people, the people who make him happy, the people who get everything right. He loves me, just the way I am. He loves the world, just the way they are. I bring him the sins of the past week, the past day, the past hour, and he doesn’t roll his eyes at me and say, “Again? Really?” He grabs them from my hands. He buries them in the deepest pit he can find. He scrubs every last trace of them from my soul. He looks at me again and says, “Sins? What sins? I don’t see any sins. I see only one of my dear children. Run along, and be the person I have declared you to be.”

I don’t deny that other people love us, too. But no one else loves us this way, this much–not our parents, our spouses, our children, or our dearest friends. God has spared us to enrich our lives with the love of the gospel. And it will sustain us to survive another year.

This is what produces the love God seeks. Even these are not so much a product the Lord seeks to collect for himself. It is a way to enrich our lives. Our acts of love, our own sacrifices, are a better way to live. They replace the boredom of trying to keep ourselves entertained with the excitement of having a mission and purpose. They make our lives meaningful. They make it possible to go from wondering, “Why does God leave me here?” to anticipating, “What can I do to make a difference in the year to come?”

So here we are, with another chance today. The Lord has left us here, spared for at least some part of the year ahead. Make it rich in God’s word. Make it fruitful in your life.