January 11, 2026
Matthew 3:13-17
Introduction
“…And do you come to me?” That’s the greeting Jesus receives from John—a question actually. Think about that question in the context of the moment and you can begin to see that John is surprised, taken aback, even confused, that Jesus has come to him, John, to be baptized.
Now we all know John has been in the wilderness preaching and baptizing. “Repent,” he says, “for the kingdom of heaven has come near.” The people of Jerusalem, Judea, and all the region around the Jordan went out to John. Even Pharisees and Sadducees, the ones John called a brood of vipers, went out to him. John preached, “One who is more powerful than I is coming after me; I am not worthy to carry his sandals.” That one, according to John, is the one who will purge and separate. He will gather the wheat and burn, with unquenchable fire, the chaff. All of which makes it clear that John has some big expectations. But then Matthew tells us… “Then Jesus came from Galilee to John at the Jordan, to be baptized by him.” This is not what John expected. In fact, it’s way more than what John expected.
“I need to be baptized by you,” John says to Jesus. It’s one thing for Jesus to show up but it’s a whole other thing for him to show up wanting to be baptized. It’s one thing for Jesus to show up in power. It’s another for him to come just like all the others and to stand amidst the crowd and wait his turn to be baptized.
And linger over this text long enough, and one will start to wonder… “What about all that time you spent preaching in the wilderness, John? Did you really understand what you were saying?”
Now, I don’t think John had any idea just how near the kingdom would come to him. I don’t think we had any idea that power would be found in humility, submission, and immersing one’s life in the life of another. I don’t think we had any idea that he would be baptizing Jesus. Rather John believed it would be—that it should be—the other way around—Jesus baptizing him, Jesus immersing him, and John would be the one raising up. But John would soon learn that Jesus, through his immersion, would lead to his raising up. But Jesus’ immersion wasn’t just in the water.
Move 1
Now, when I say I think John had no idea what was really happening when Jesus came to him to be baptized, I’m only speculating. It’s not judgment or criticism. There have been times in my life when I had no idea how close the kingdom of God had come to me. I suspect you can recall times like that as well. There have been times when we just didn’t see it or recognize the Divine for what it was. We had no idea God would show up in that way, that place, that time, that situation. We can look back now and realize what we missed; how it was God’s hand through the Holy Spirit that was at work. And when we do, whether implicitly or explicitly, a version of John’s question echoes in our head, “And do you come to me?”
I imagine each of us has known moments in life when it felt as if we had no choice but to muscle our way through. Power was the only way. The power to overcome, to defeat, to push aside. It was “do or die” as they say. So we hammered ourselves into shape. We got by on sheer will power. There was no one to help, or so it seemed. It was up to us. Anything else looked and sounded like weakness. It never crossed our mind that there might be another way. And we thought and did this because we had no clue that one more powerful than us would really show up and redefine what power means.
And all of this, along with John’s confusion and question, makes me wonder how many times we have missed God, even said no to God, simply because we had no idea, no clue, no notion.
And it was not a matter of disobedience, rejection, or unfaithfulness. We just had no idea that God’s ways are not our ways, and God’s thoughts are not our thoughts. We thought we understood and had it figured out. We thought our ways and our thoughts were God’s and because we did, unbeknownst to us we left no room for God to surprise us.
So who can blame John for his surprise, for his reaction? How could he or we expect the Creator to be baptized by the created? How could he or we expect that the Creator would give his sandals to the one who is unworthy to carry them?
And yet, that is exactly what Jesus does.
Move 2
“And do you come to me?” That’s not just John’s question. It’s also ours. At some point or another we’ve all asked it. And we’ve asked it because sometimes it just seems too incredible to believe that God would come to us.
And maybe we do this because we see God as distant, cold, and uninvolved. Maybe it’s because we see ourselves as unworthy and undeserving. Maybe it’s because we were taught that God is more concerned about our behavior than our life. Maybe the pain, difficulty, and losses of our life have caused us to wonder whether God even cares. Maybe God’s ways don’t fit within our expectations. God won’t fit within our box and we can’t seem to get out of it.
I don’t know when or how that question comes up for you but I know where we find the answer.
The answer is found in the baptism of Jesus.
His baptism answers once and for all the question, “And do you come to me?” with and emphatic, “Yes. I absolutely come to you.” That is Jesus’ answer to John, to you, to me, to everyone. There is no one to whom Jesus does not come.
That answer, however, is not without consequences. Jesus’ baptism sets before us a choice. We can either prevent or consent, to the closing or opening of ourselves, to the baptism of Jesus. The issue is not Jesus’ coming to us. The issue is our preventing or consenting to his coming.
Initially John was preventing Jesus from coming to him, saying things like, “I am not worthy to even untie his thong.” But then John opened himself; he consented to Jesus coming to him. Our work then is to always move from preventing to consenting. That is our repentance just as it was for John.
Move 3
According to Matthew, John “would have prevented him.” John would have stepped in front of Jesus, stopping and denying Jesus’ baptism. That’s a pretty scary thought. It’s pretty frightening that we have the freedom and ability to prevent Jesus’ baptism.
To prevent Jesus’ baptism means that we withhold ourselves from the God who comes. It means we deny God’s desire and longing for humanity expressed in the life of Jesus. It means we deprive God of the unique and irreplaceable love that he seeks in each one of us. In the end it means we deprive God of the life God wants to live and the life God wants to give to us.
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Jesus’ baptism is more than his immersion in the water of the Jordan River. It is his immersion into all of creation, into the depths of humanity, and into your life and my life. This is the baptism of Jesus to which John consented. John moved from preventing to consenting. And that movement, that consent, is the fulfillment of “all righteousness”, as Matthew says.
And the fulfillment of “all righteousness”, puts life and relationships back together again. It joins earth to heaven and humanity to divinity. That consent is how we offer the waters of our life to Jesus. Because over and over again Jesus returns to the waters of his baptism immersing himself into the struggles and triumphs, the joys and the tragedies, and the deaths and resurrections of our world and our lives.
Jesus immerses himself in the wilderness of struggles, divided hearts, and temptations.
Jesus immerses himself in the compassion that recognizes the dignity of every human being.
Jesus immerses himself in the intimacy and love of a woman’s perfumed ointment, her touch, her hair, her tears.
Jesus immerses himself in the betrayal of Judas’ kiss.
Jesus immerses himself in the loneliness and rejection of Peter’s denial.
Jesus immerses himself in the pain of the soldiers’ blows, whips, and taunts.
Jesus immerses himself in the shame and humility of the cross.
Jesus immerses himself in the tomb and darkness of death.
There is no part of your life or my life devoid of Jesus’ baptism. He immerses himself completely. He sanctifies our life’s waters. He assumes all that we are and takes on our life. He immerses himself into our life that we might be raised up into his—because for every immersion… for every baptism… there is a raising up.
Conclusion
When Jesus came up from the water the heavens opened to him, the Spirit descended upon him, and a voice from heaven said, “This is my Son, the beloved, with whom I am well pleased.” With Christ’s immersion into our life the heavens are opened to us. With his immersion into our life the Spirit descends upon us as well. With his immersion into our life, we are also God’s beloved children, sons and daughters, every one of us.
But I certainly get it. This can often feel too good to be true, and we will still ask, “And do you come to me?” But no matter what, the answer is always… Yes, Jesus comes to us. He always has and always will. He can do nothing less. He is the God who comes.
So may we consent to his coming. Offer the waters of your life. Let them be his baptismal water. Prevent nothing. Don’t withhold even one drop. Let every word, every action, every choice, every relationship be the place of his immersion and our raising up. Amen.
Pastoral Prayer, January 11, 2026
Holy God, as we gather on this Baptism of the Lord Sunday, we stand in awe of the moment when Jesus descended into the Jordan River, choosing to be fully immersed not just in water, but into our human reality—not because He needed cleansing, but to stand in solidarity with us.
Gracious God, we confess that while You are always immersed in our lives, we often hold our breath and try to keep our heads above water on our own. Forgive us for the stubbornness that makes us think we can navigate this life without You. We often treat our faith as a solo endeavor, forgetting we are members of one body called to depend on Your grace.
We also confess our doubt. There are times we look at our own brokenness and think You would never bother to show up for us. But the heavens opened at the Jordan, and they remain open today. Remind us that You are the God who comes to us, refusing to ever leave us alone in our walk.
So guide us again to faithfully consent—moving us like John—from preventing to consenting, helping us to stop resisting Your presence, and believing Your Spirit does indeed come to each of us.
And we add to this prayer Holy God, the brokenness we saw unfold this past week—in Minneapolis, and around the country. Break the delusions and heal our isolation that convinces us we are on the right side and others are our enemies. Remind us that vitriol, the loss of life, the incivility, and stealing of another’s dignity is not the way to being again the United States of America.
Teach us to lean into the ways of Christ and see each other as neighbors, brothers, and sisters. Restore our true identity. And help us all hear Your voice calling us “beloved,” marked by hope and light and grace and righteousness, created—each one of us—in your image.
Please Lord… hear our cries… wipe our tears… restore our hope… and receive the prayer of our hearts as we share them all in this time of Holy Silence.
We offer these prayers in the name of the One who was baptized for us, Jesus Christ our Lord, who taught us to pray, saying, “Our…”