“WORTHY”

Scripture Lesson:  Mark 1: 4-11

Dr. Matthew S. Brown

January 8, 2006

 

Moths to a flame.  I’ve never seen it.  You may never have witnessed it.  Yet, we know what it means.  It is the image we use to describe the sight of some animate or inanimate object mysteriously but irresistibly drawn to a location, destination, object, idol, or event.  Moths to a flame.  Buzzards to road kill.  Tour buses to pancake houses.  Mosquitoes to your ankles.  Engineers to polyester. Lawyers to mirrors.  Televangelists to hairspray.  Celebrities to rehab.  Minty chocolates to my stomach. etc 

 

Moths to a flame.  You know someone had too much time on his hands.  For when would you ever have the collection of moments it would take to observe moths to the extent that you could so analyze their behavior?  Moths to a flame.  I’d be embarrassed to confess I ever took the time to notice it, yet, I know what it means.  Target at Christmas.  Joggers on sunny day sidewalks.  Cheesecake Factory Friday nights.  Y Chromosomes and Harley dealerships, the neighbor’s dog and your lawn.

 

What is it that irresistibly invites, entices, lures you?  And, why is it you are so ensnared?  I know I will never purchase that high performance sports car in the in the mall’s common area, but there my feet take me away from my appointed journey to GAP kids and Hollister, eyes squinting to see through the tinted glass.  Have to check out that dashboard.  Look at those gauges.  Why?  I’d never pursue it.  I don’t know much, but I do know some things just don’t fit.  I’d look as silly sitting in that car as I would wearing a cowboy hat.

What is it that draws you out, captures your attention?  What force moves your feet, drives you to set things aside so that you may focus on that other thing?

 

Mark, with his usual economical and spare language opens his Gospel with this image of people being drawn out from the villages and towns, from urban centers and rural postal routes, from their jobs, from their responsibilities, from their hobbies, their recreational activities.  It’s not a stadium in New Jersey’s Meadowlands that is pulling them in.  It’s not a National Park, a Disney roller coaster, a celebrity sighting, or even a car wreck that has them gathering and crowding together, craning their necks to  catch a glimpse.

 

Out in the middle of nowhere, down by the riverside they have come, and the focus of their attention is not some pyrotechnic, river festival spectacle.  No, it was a rather funny looking man, lots of hair, standing waist deep in the water.  You or I, seeing such a man would most likely avert our gaze assuming he was homeless and wanting to avoid the inevitable plea for money.  Yet, this is the one they came out to see.

 

Mark says, “And people from the whole Judean countryside and all the people of Jerusalem were going out to him, and were baptized in the river Jordan, confessing their sins.”  What force drew them out, what is it that prompted them to open the darkest closets of their souls to this unusual man?

 

Unsettled, restless, disconcerted, anxious, edgy, tense, rattled.  Sometimes, you’re not sure what’s wrong, you couldn’t name it if you had to, but you just feel deep in your bones that something’s not right, something’s got to change.  Or maybe, nothing is particularly wrong, at least nothing you notice, but yet, something is missing.  Again, you can’t name it, wouldn’t know it if you were to see it, but it must be out there or else you wouldn’t be feeling so fidgety.

 

To the river they have come.  To this strange looking locust breathed man they open and read the hidden chapters of their lives, hoping for a new direction, a new chapter or at least an understanding of their anxiety.

What is the force that has brought them out?  It’s not John.  O, John is important, very important.  But John, self admittedly, is just a messenger, pointing beyond himself to something, someone greater.

 

What is the force behind it all?  It is the same force that has brought us here this day.  O, I know, some will say and believe, “Hey, I’m only here because my spouse, my parents made me.  Some of us, some Sundays, are thinkin’, “Hey, I’m only here because it’s my job and I’ve got a mortgage.”  Yes, I’m sure there were people that day complaining about their wet tunics, wondering why in the world their loved ones thought it so important for them to be there.

 

But behind it all, the Spirit of the living God was moving, is moving and moving people into that flowing, life cleansing, life giving, life renewing stream of faith.  We should have some sense of this because we use a whole lot of water in worship here at South Meck.  It is tempting to put a banner outside proclaiming “Baptisms are us!”  With varying degrees of interest and curiosity about what is happening, the young and mature come forward and we make the promises, pray the prayer, and break out the water.

 

William Sloane Coffin writes that during infant baptism, he takes the child in his arms and says, “Little child, for you Jesus Christ came, he struggled, he suffered; for you he endured the darkness of Gethsemane, the anguish of Calvary; for you he triumphed over death, and you, little child, know nothing of all this.  But thus is confirmed the word of the Apostle:  ‘We love God because God first loved us.’”

 

The same could be said to any of us for how little we know or comprehend of what it all means.  Yet, we know, we believe something, someone beyond us is at work behind it all. 

 

In that water, whether we’re speaking of Jordan’s waters or the water of the font in this place or the church of your childhood, there is something that everyone shares in common other than wet toes or the prospect of a bad hair day after the water has been poured on it.  In that water, with that water there is a common recognition that our worthiness comes not from ourselves but from God.  When John says, “I’m not worthy,” he speaks the truth.  He’s not worthy.  I’m not worthy and neither are you.  However, we are regarded worthy, made worthy by the love of God revealed in Christ, communicated through the Spirit.   John, speaking of the Christ said, “I have baptized you with water; but he will baptize you with the Holy Spirit.”

 

When Jesus, the sinless one, the only worthy one, that day long ago walked out to the wilderness, accepted the offer of fruit from a group of journeyers on the same path, stood patiently in line as others went before him, waded out into the murky river water, bowed at his incredulous, confused cousin’s feet, and felt the water pour over his head, he was joining the journey with us, casting his lot with us, saying that our sins and our unsettledness would not scare him off from us.

 

In Mark’s presentation, those in attendance did not see or hear what happened next - the heavens opening, the dove descending, the voice of familial affirmation.  This interchange was reserved for Father, Son, and Holy Spirit.  It was a very private encounter with very public consequences.  It was the Holy Trinity convening to say, “Let’s get this thing started.”  It was an inauguration for the Incarnation.  It was a way of confirming and affirming the work of salvation that had already begun.

 

You see, the heaven-descended dove is not the first appearance of the Spirit in this text.  For it was the Spirit of God who irresistibly drew the people to the river that day, just as in ways beyond our understanding, it is the Spirit of God who has brought us together this day.

 

Assembled in and gathered around the river was a congregation.  From the city, from the country they had come.  These pilgrims did not fully comprehend what was taking place in their midst.  But something/someone, the very Spirit of God was moving them, was preparing them for what God had in store for them - transformation, reconciliation, relationship with the divine, purpose, hope, ministry, compassion, love,  an eternal peaceable kingdom - the very same things for which God is preparing us.  And like those pilgrims long ago, we may feel almost clueless about what has brought us to this place.  But the Spirit is moving in our midst, is moving us forward in faith though we don’t comprehend it all or even at all.

 

Do you fully understand what we are doing here, where God is leading us here?  I don’t, either.  O, surely and troublingly, our culture is rife with legions of self-sanctioned sanctimonious saints who speak with such arrogant certainty of God, of God’s will and God’s work.  But most of us are doing the best we can, some days muddling through, some days sensing that light.  Truthfully, some days it is faith and some days you fear it may just be indigestion.  But the good news of the incarnation is that Jesus comes down to wade in the muddy waters with us.  He is not offended by our doubts, He does not cower from our questions.  His love just will not let us go.  His Spirit will not let us loose. 

 

Those people stood still in the flowing waters of the Jordan, but those waters of baptism would take them someplace.  Where will they take you?  Let’s find out together.  Spirit of God, descend upon our hearts.  Amen.

 

   

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