Jan. 11, 2026 - Baptism of the Lord

Every January, Christians around the world pause to remember a pivotal moment in the Gospel narrative: the baptism of Jesus in the Jordan River. This event, seemingly simple on its surface, opens profound questions about identity, belonging, and what it truly means to live as children of God.

Picture the scene: John the Baptist, wild-haired and clothed in camel skin, stands in the muddy waters of the Jordan River. He's been baptizing crowds of people, calling them to repentance and preparing the way for something—or someone—extraordinary. Then Jesus arrives, and everything shifts.

The exchange between these two cousins reveals something remarkable. John protests: "I should be baptized by you, not the other way around!" He recognizes who Jesus is—the incarnate deity, God's only son. Yet Jesus insists, saying something profound: "It is proper for us in this way to fulfill all righteousness."

What does that mean? Jesus, who needed no purification, chose to participate in this ritual anyway. He positioned himself alongside humanity, demonstrating that baptism wasn't about his need but about establishing a pattern, a way of marking our identity as God's children.

When Jesus emerged from the water, the Spirit descended like a dove, and God's voice proclaimed: "This is my son, in whom I am well pleased." In that moment, heaven touched earth, and a template was set for all who would follow.

Throughout Christian history, believers have wrestled with questions about baptism: Should we baptize infants or wait until someone can choose for themselves? Should we immerse completely or sprinkle water? What exactly happens in that moment when water touches skin and prayers are spoken?

These aren't merely academic questions. Tragically, Christians have fought, excommunicated, imprisoned, and even killed one another over different understandings of this sacred act. The Anabaptists, who believed in adult baptism and rejected infant baptism, were literally drowned by those who disagreed with them—"rebaptized" until they stopped kicking.

We might think such religious violence belongs to the distant past, but the same spirit of division persists today in different forms. We still struggle to embrace those who think, believe, or practice their faith differently than we do.

Some Christian traditions view baptism as an "ordinance"—a command from Jesus that we follow because he ordered us to do so. "Whoever believes and is baptized will be saved," Jesus said in Mark 16:16. It's straightforward: believe, get baptized, be saved.

Other traditions, including Methodists, Lutherans, Catholics, and Orthodox Christians, view baptism as a "sacrament"—a holy mystery where God's presence does something miraculous. They may disagree on the specifics of how that miracle works, but they agree that something supernatural happens when the Holy Spirit meets water and faith.

Here's a liberating truth: we don't have to fully understand baptism for it to be powerful and real. How do you explain the presence of an invisible God? How do you describe the moment when the Creator of the universe claims a human being as beloved?

We see water. We hear words. But we don't see the dove descending. We don't hear the audible voice of God declaring, "This is my child." Yet something profound happens—a marking, a claiming, an adoption into God's family.

In Methodist baptismal liturgy, there's a beautiful prayer: "Pour out your Holy Spirit on this water and on the one who receives it, to wash away their sin and restore them to righteousness." Those words echo Jesus' own statement at his baptism about fulfilling righteousness.

The dove—that symbol of the Holy Spirit present at Jesus' baptism—descends again and again, every time someone is baptized, every time communion is shared. God shows up. The mystery unfolds.

While the act of baptism is important and holy, something matters even more: how we live out our baptism.

Throughout the Old Testament, God repeatedly tells his people that religious rituals matter less than how they treat others. "I don't care about your ceremonies as much as I care about justice, mercy, and righteousness," God essentially says. "Show me how you treat the widow, the orphan, the immigrant."

Baptism marks us as children of God, but that identity should transform how we see and treat everyone around us. It should change everything.

If you've been baptized—whether as an infant or an adult, whether by sprinkling or immersion—consider these questions:

Do you see others as your brothers and sisters? Not just those who look like you, vote like you, worship like you, or root for the same sports teams. But truly everyone. Regardless of immigration status. Regardless of political affiliation. Regardless of sexual or gender identity. Regardless of denomination or belief system. Do you recognize the divine image in every person you encounter?

Do you live as a child of God first? Or does your national identity come first? Your political party? Your state or neighborhood? Is your primary identity as a beloved child of God, or has something else taken that place?

Do you love, period? There's an old song that says, "They will know we are Christians by our love." Not by our correct theology. Not by our church attendance. Not by our political positions. By our love.

Imagine walking through your neighborhood, past the golf carts and palm trees, or whatever landscape surrounds your home. Picture that dove from Jesus' baptism—the Holy Spirit—hovering above you with each step you take.

You carry God's presence with you everywhere. To the grocery store. To the golf course. To difficult conversations and uncomfortable situations. You are a baptized child of God, marked and claimed, carrying the Holy Spirit into every interaction.

The question isn't whether God is with you. The question is whether you're living like it.

On this Baptism Sunday and every day after, may we remember that we belong to God first and foremost. May we treat every person we encounter as our brother or sister. And may the Holy Spirit that descended on Jesus at the Jordan continue to descend on us, transforming us into people who live out our baptism through love, justice, and mercy.

That's what it means to fulfill all righteousness.