Sermon January 10, 2010

Amy Wharton, Pastor
Cuba Christian Church
Isaiah 43:1-7
Psalm 29
Acts 8:14-17
Luke 3:15-17, 21-22

“Immersed in Love”

“Keri's smalls hands are clasped tightly together, as she concentrates on remembering the day that a giant tsunami swept her out of her family's home in Banda Aceh, North Sumatra, tearing first her father from her grasp, then her pregnant sister and finally her mother. She was nine years old then.

“It was five years ago on [December 26] that the Indian Ocean tsunami struck coastal communities throughout much of South East Asia, leaving a black misery of bodies and ruined lives in its wake. The exact number of dead in the 13 countries damaged by the waves will never be known, but at least 160,000 of the quarter of million estimated total fatalities occurred in and around Banda Aceh - damaged first by the huge earthquake, whose epicentre was just 150 miles out to sea, then swept by the wave that raced far inland just a short while later. A further 500,000 survivors were left homeless.”[1]

The fear and devastation that gripped the Southeast Asian communities is beyond my imaginings. Even though we deal with flooding rivers and rising water tables, water logged fields and rivers constantly in flood, it is hard to imagine the kind devastation experienced five years ago.

Yet it is with that kind of fear that the ancient Israelites viewed water—especially water beyond the view of land or water that rushed and flooded. Chaos and destruction were how they mostly thought of massive bodies of water. In Genesis, for example, “In the beginning when God created* the heavens and the earth, 2the earth was a formless void and darkness covered the face of the deep.” The deep—the primordial, untouched, unbounded, eerie waters before God’s voice called forth order from it. And there is a tension whenever waters enter the story. The waters of the Red Sea or Reed Sea in Exodus present a barrier to freedom and the possibility of death to the Hebrews fleeing Egypt. The Jordan River was a barrier to covenantal promise as their children’s children planned to enter Canaan land. There was something fearful about water, it was a place where great power and destruction touched the land.

And yet water was and is and will always be necessary to life in smaller more manageable amounts. More importantly for our texts this morning, it is a place of transition and transformation. Just as the watery chaos of Genesis was a mysterious and scary thing, it was also a thing that awaited God’s voice of order and creation—it represented a readiness for God. The waters of the Red Sea were the first boundary that the Hebrews had to cross to begin their journey toward becoming the people of God. It was a baptism of sorts. Then the Jordan River was the final step as the people passed into the Promised land. They were truly born as God’s people, passing through waters that marked them: alive, claimed and fully covenanted and belonging to God.

The text from Isaiah represents a fearful view of water—but it’s fear mixed with purpose, respect and reassurance. (Is. 43.1-2)
“Do not fear, for I have redeemed you;
I have called you by name, you are mine.
When you pass through the waters, I will be with you;
and through the rivers, they shall not overwhelm you;
when you walk through fire you shall not be burned,
and the flame shall not consume you.
In these words we can hear birth—from one kind of life to another—as the Hebrews moved from slavery to freedom in the wilderness. And we can words of trial and purification—through cleansing flames of a silversmith’s fire or blazing experiences that strip of everything but what is absolutely essential.

God was calling the people of Israel from their trials into community so that promises of community and belonging could be fulfilled—not that community life doesn’t have trials and tribulations. Life in community with God and one another gave them support in their trials, which was what God was promising them as they walked through trials and as they helped others experience trials—individually and in community.

The tsunami of 2004, the hurricanes Katrina and Rita of 2005, recent earthquakes and floods that are more subtly destructive, but cause damage and disease in the time that follows remind us of the power of water and earth. Yet in the times that follow these natural disasters, human beings have expressed some of their best behavior and response. People continue to work in Southeast Asian countries helping them rebuild. The model for Christian response to the hurricanes on the Gulf Coast has helped congregations respond to tragedies in other places since, making us realize that when big tragedies happen, we can do some good. We’ve grown our communities beyond our doorsteps and into the surrounding world in many ways.

Life in community is about connection and strength and those come through the responsibility, justice and transformation that come through the gifts of the Holy Spirit. We’ve been reminded that working together using what we have been given can accomplish good things. The situations haven’t been perfect, but good and powerful acts have been done.

And water, because of its power and essence, is a wonderful symbol of a life of faith and spiritual connection to God. Really connecting to God should carry with it a sense of awe and mystery—making a relationship with someone who’s got the whole universe in a hand should be a little intimidating. Water flowing, functioning and gushing through the systems of life in the world can remind us that God’s own spirit’s work. We’ve all seen pictures of white water rapids—if we haven’t ridden them—and be reminded that the water on the mountaintop comes down to water the life in the valleys. We are reminded at this time of the year that the water we drink and bathe in throughout the year comes to us from aquifers that are replenished by years of abundant rain and lots of snow. We might grumble and have good reason when fields and streets and homes are flooded, but we also can realize the huge picture of the planetary systems of water flow. Water is life and will support life for years to come as it enters ecosystems. Often what gives us trouble is our attempt to control water and other natural systems without looking at the long-term affects of our temporary solutions to problems.

Water, as it is ordered and used by living things makes life possible and reminds us that in creation, redemption and salvation we are immerse in the love that God has for God’s creation. We are accompanied in times of need and in times of joy when we are made more than aware of God’s love for us.

And water as it flows freely and energetically reveals the overpowering and beyond our understanding aspects of the love of God for us—so powerful and great that we cannot even express it.

The baptism of Jesus in today’s scripture describes a moment in Jesus’ life when he was reminded of God’s love for him—and when God revealed immense and immersing love for all of us.

John’s baptism of multitudes was God’s opening act for Jesus—God always prepares us for a new thing, we just have to pay attention. John refocused the people attention and energy on a renewed vision of forgiveness—but he didn’t invent water baptism. He knew as did many around him that Israel’s relationship with God needed renewal and that’s what immersion was. It was a symbol of transition from one phase of life to another. It meant cleansing and it meant purification—yet it was also like birth.

The seasons of Advent and Christmas told us about the preparation for Jesus and about his birth—now we are exposed to the birth of the adult phase of his life when he began a different intensity of relationship with God and entered into a life of preaching, teaching and service to the people of his world.

He requested the waters of baptism—perhaps not because he needed repentance from sin—but because he needed immersion into the very real love of God. In this time he was claimed by God in a demonstration of his choice to serve and God’s choice to claim him very tangibly. John baptized in living water—flowing water—as a sign of life, but also a sign of the power that God was willing to share in people’s lives.

Luke tells of spiritual energy surrounding the baptism of Jesus. He entered baptism along with so many others—the spiritual totality of all who were looking to God for transformation in that day and in all the days that John baptized. He claimed those folks as much as he entered into their midst as one of them.

The beloved community of discipleship began then and continues today as we add our own choices and lives to the beloved community in this place and in many places and times ever since. What about participation in community gives us continued energy to serve?

God reminds us in Isaiah that we are called from the north, south, east and west—that we come and go in community surging and flowing together and apart bringing life and taking it into the wider world. We know that the relationships and prayer we share together gives us a surge of energy that reminds us how much we are loved whether we are here or in other places and groups or when we are alone.

The beloved community that is the church—past, present and future—reminds us that we are in an ever-changing, transforming community, just like our faith is ever-changing and transformational. We are never done and ready to retire from faith; we are always looking to the next phase of existence of our faith.

Whatever tomorrow brings—transformation, rest, grace, love, turmoil, pain, hope, joy, peace, movement, Sabbath rest or exhausting, yet useful work—we are immersed in the love of God as God’s beloved children with whom God is pleased.

To the glory of God—who walks with us and love us, world without end. Amen.



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[1]“Aceh's towns and villages remember the terrible day when the tsunami struck; Five years after the Boxing Day tsunami, Aceh's people are still recovering”; By Fiona MacGregor in Banda Aceh, Published: 8:30AM GMT 20 Dec 2009. Telegraph article Dec 20 2009