“Then He Consented”
Isaiah 42:1-9 and Matthew 3:13-17
Allen Huff
Jonesborough Presbyterian Church
1/7/24
Baptism of the Lord Sunday
Here is my servant, whom I uphold,
my chosen, in whom my soul delights;
I have put my spirit upon him;
he will bring forth justice to the nations.
2 He will not cry out or lift up his voice
or make it heard in the street;
3 a bruised reed he will not break,
and a dimly burning wick he will not quench;
he will faithfully bring forth justice.
4 He will not grow faint or be crushed
until he has established justice in the earth,
and the coastlands wait for his teaching.
5 Thus says God, the Lord,
who created the heavens and stretched them out,
who spread out the earth and what comes from it,
who gives breath to the people upon it
and spirit to those who walk in it:
6 I am the Lord; I have called you in righteousness;
I have taken you by the hand and kept you;
I have given you as a covenant to the people,
a light to the nations,
7 to open the eyes that are blind,
to bring out the prisoners from the dungeon,
from the prison those who sit in darkness.
8 I am the Lord; that is my name;
my glory I give to no other,
nor my praise to idols.
9 See, the former things have come to pass,
and new things I now declare;
before they spring forth,
I tell you of them. (NRSV)
13Then Jesus came from Galilee to John at the Jordan, to be baptized by him.
14John would have prevented him, saying, “I need to be baptized by you, and do you come to me?”
15But Jesus answered him, “Let it be so now; for it is proper for us in this way to fulfill all righteousness.”
Then he consented.
16And when Jesus had been baptized, just as he came up from the water, suddenly the heavens were opened to him and he saw the Spirit of God descending like a dove and alighting on him. 17And a voice from heaven said, “This is my Son, the Beloved, with whom I am well pleased.” (NRSV)
In Matthew’s telling of the story of Jesus’ baptism, verse 15 concludes abruptly: “Then he consented.”
What sounds like a simple reference to timing, points to the rolling away of a great stone. Getting to Then he consented involves the same movement of the Spirit we see in, “So Abram left, as the Lord had told him;” “Let it be with me according to your word;” and “He is risen.”
Then he consented invites us into something much deeper and broader than John’s reluctant consent to baptize Jesus. When John says that he should be baptized by Jesus, Jesus says, No. For now, you baptize me. Jesus’ own consent to the same baptism to which so many others consent implies much more than acquiescence. It implies trust of and faithfulness to a transforming spiritual reality. And it signals Jesus’ commitment to his own specific calling.
Immediately after his baptism, Jesus embarks on a forty-day wilderness sojourn. And during that time, he agonizes over the consequences of his baptismal consent. He faces a choice we all make in one way or another: He can use his gifts for personal benefit, or he can offer himself to the Creation as a blessing. As a uniquely gifted man, he can live as either the Christ or just another Herod or Caesar.
For similar reasons, confirmation is crucial in denominations that practice infant baptism. Confirmation gives young people the opportunity to declare that they are beloved children of God, that they have rich, God-given potential, and then to follow Jesus as beloved disciples. And belovedness is most fully realized when we choose to live as blessings.
Baptism, you see, is about identity as well as grace. It declares that we, and all things, belong to God, who delights in us, and who wants us to recognize the elemental and indelible holiness within all humanity, and within the earth itself.
Now, I know that there are some folks we struggle with. They push every button and get on our last nerve. We’ve all experienced people like that. I also know from experience that I can be that person for others. And I’m very often that person for my own, conflicted self. No one causes me more grief than me.
Richard Rohr has said that we often look at the world around us and can’t help seeing more darkness than light. And when we can’t get past that, it’s easy to give up and say, ‘That’s just the way things are.’ But Rohr says that when we fixate on brokenness and hopelessness, we’re not seeing things as they are. We’re seeing things as we are,1 because broken hearts feel nothing but brokenness, and blind eyes see nothing but darkness.
Listen, it doesn’t happen suddenly or magically, but the journey of baptismal consent does give us new hearts, new eyes, and new minds. Another metaphor for that transformation is, ironically enough, death. Because re-creation springs from death, it’s not by accident that Paul speaks of baptism as dying and rising with Christ. (Romans 6:1-11) Jesus dies at his baptism. He dies during his temptation. He dies repeatedly as he shepherds fickle disciples. And he dies during his agony in Gethsemane, and then, finally, on Golgotha.
Baptism challenges us to take seriously our call to die to all the false selves, shallow desires, and paralyzing fears that would have us live as if the sin of war is just the way things are, as if starving and homeless children is just the way things are, as if school shootings—something no healthy-minded person can simply “get over”—is just the way things are, and as if our own secret self-loathings are all just the way things are.
In one way or another, those realities all point to the ever-present powers of nihilistic greed and fear. And to do nothing about them is to consent to those powers, and to let greed and fear have their violent ways. Jesus does not consent to those powers. Nor does he give us permission to do so. He calls us to consent to his lordship here and now. He calls us to take up our crosses, to die to all that is selfish, fearful, and falsely pious. He calls us to enter the world in all of its heart-wrenching brokenness and suffering and to live as ones being made new in the power of the Holy Spirit. He calls us to declare that God claims all human beings as beloved children. And anything that allows us to avoid or compromise the call to die and rise with Jesus, is not of God.
When making suggestions on how to prepare for reading scripture, Richard Rohr advises—and I hope all new and continuing elders really hear this—to seek “an open heart and mind…[to detach from ego-driven] desires to be correct [and] secure…Then…listen for a deeper voice than your own, which you will know because it will never shame or frighten you, but rather strengthen you, even when it [challenges] you…As you read, if you sense any negative or punitive emotions like…feelings of superiority, self-satisfaction, arrogant…certitude, desire for revenge…or a spirit of…exclusion, you must trust that this is not Jesus…at work, but your own ego still steering the ship.”2
I hear Rohr saying that when we claim our baptisms and still seek power or advantage over others, we’re choosing to see things as we are, not as God sees them—and not as God sees us.
Baptism invites us and challenges us into the mystical practice of learning to see as Jesus sees.
Baptism invites and empowers us for new sight, new strength, new courage.
Baptism empowers us to see ourselves, our neighbors, and the earth as tangible expressions of God’s gracious presence and creative purposes.
When we see and engage the world with eyes and hearts transformed by baptism, we live as followers of Jesus rather than followers of worldly politics, economics, and religiosity.
May we all consent—each day—to following Jesus in the new life of baptismal faithfulness, so that our lives and our living may always serve as signs of God’s love and grace for one another and for all Creation.
1From Richard Rohr in Falling Upward: Spirituality for the Second Half of Life.
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