Love and Baptism [Lent 4B - Ephesians 2:1-10]

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 The Rev. Jeremiah Williamson

Ephesians 2:1-10

 

Love and Baptism

Holy Name, Boytonville

 

At that point in my life, it is unlikely I would have been described as a notorious sinner – though, admittedly, I was prone to the passions of my flesh.  As I approached the baptismal font, those passions of the flesh were about all I had: a passion for sleep, for nourishment, and the selfish desire to have other people meet my every want and need.  I was one month old when I was baptized. 

 

Like many of us, I am a product of infant baptism.  My grandfather, a United Methodist pastor, baptized me in a font not far from the Ohio River, in a village almost exactly the size of this one.  He had no sense, as he poured sacred waters over my head, how my life would go.  He did not know that I would spend my teenage years leading worship in Pentecostal churches; or that I would discover the Book of Common Prayer while attending a small evangelical college; or that I would fall in love with the Episcopal Church during seminary.  He certainly did not know I would one day be a bishop of the Church.  He also couldn’t know the hard times ahead: that I would lose my hair at age nine; or that my family would lose homes to fire and financial devastation.  When the sacred water hit my head no one could imagine the particular joys and sorrows, failures and triumphs that were yet to come, only that they would come.  Because no one makes it through this life without their share of peaks and valleys.  We are human; baptism does not negate that.  We all stumble through this beautiful, painful life.  And yet, aware of the potential pitfalls in my path, and despite his lack of certain foresight, my grandfather did not hesitate to bathe me in prayers and water.  Because he trusted God with me. 

 

We never do know what lies beyond the miracle of the font.  The babies grow up.  The children do too.  The teens and adults, though partially or even mostly formed, have a future beyond the waters as well.  And despite the promises of the liturgy, the support of the Church, and the power of the sacrament, there is never a guarantee of saintly behavior or even future church attendance. 

 

We take a chance on those who seek baptism.  And we hope for the best, for their best.  We hope that they will read their Bibles and pray their prayers.  We hope that they will be given to good works and give to make the world a better place.  We hope that they will proclaim the Gospel and live up to the baptismal promises of their Christian initiation.  We hope that they will fall more and more in love with Jesus.  And we really hope that they will one day agree to be the Jr. Warden.  We hope but we can’t know.

 

I have baptized approximately two-hundred people into the Body of Christ during my ordained ministry.  People of all ages; people of broad and varied backgrounds.  No two stories, no two journeys, are the same.  I have baptized babies I have never again seen.  I have been blessed to see others grow into active members of the parish, small but mighty ministers of the Gospel.  I have baptized children just tall enough to peek over the edge of the font.  I have baptized teens desperate to claim the name of Christ.  I have baptized adults from other countries, out of other religious traditions, alongside their own children.  I have even baptized my youngest son.

 

Every single baptism was a joy.  Not because I was sure they would live into the fullness of their vows, but because I knew God would.  The remarkable truth about God is that God’s love never lets go.  The Prayer Book claims that, “The bond which God establishes in Baptism is indissoluble.”[1]  And so I loved pouring the water over every head; I did so with absolute confidence – even though I never once knew what the future held.  Because I trust God. 

 

One thing that has always been the case – in every instance: every person I have baptized has been shockingly human.  Not one has been perfect.  They have, on occasion, broken their baptismal promises.  They have sinned and fallen short and made mistakes and hurt other people.  They have said the wrong thing and done the wrong thing and thought the wrong thing.  And they have left some good things undone.  Like people do.

 

The miracle of baptism is not that it makes us into angels.  It doesn’t.  We are human before and after the sacramental action.  The miracle is that no matter how human we are, God never ever gives up on us.  God keeps showing up in those mystical baptismal waters – claiming flawed person after flawed person.  God continues to love the world with reckless love – a love from which there is no escape.  A love that holds us forever, unconditionally and eternally.  God saves us by grace – and there is nothing we can do to shake that grace off.  The water dries but the love stays. 

 

And according to this letter to the Ephesians, somehow that has been the plan all along.  God chooses us.  God chooses to choose us.  We cannot earn God’s love – no matter how good we are.  It is a gift of God – not the result of works, so that no one may boast.  And we cannot lose God’s love.  It is just a gift – from a God rich in mercy and abounding in steadfast love.

 

All the good things we do to try to earn God’s favor, to prove to God that we are OK, do not convince God to love us any more.  God cannot love us more than God already does; it is simply not possible.  “For by grace you have been saved through faith, and this is not your own doing; it is the gift of God.”  God gives us this gift so that we can stop trying and start living, living like people who know that they are loved and will be loved no matter what.  When you accept that you belong to a God who will never let go, you can muster outrageous courage and love with reckless abandon. 

 

Once upon a time you were baptized.  Water wet your head.  It was put there in the name of God: Father, Son, and Holy Spirit.  A simple element and a simple formula.  It was so simple and yet everyone in that place, on the day you were baptized, was so happy; on that day you were surrounded by smiles.  And, yes, it is true, you and me, we have made our share of mistakes; we have broken hearts and left good undone.  The truth is: every one of those smiling people who rejoiced on your baptismal day, they knew you would mess up occasionally.  But that didn’t make them any less happy because they knew everything would be OK.  They knew you would be OK.  Because they trusted the God who met you in that water; they trusted God with your heart and your life and your eternity.  You see, they knew something remarkable about our God: God is stubborn; God is faithful; God never lets go.  



[1] BCP, 298.

Location: Boyntonville, NY 12090, USA

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