Baptism of the Lord
All of
Scripture has value. It is good for us
to know what the entire Bible has to teach us and I find that theologies that
depend on only small parts of it tend to be dangerous. But let’s face it: some parts of the Bible
are more important than others. The
story of the birth of Jesus is important.
The story of his resurrection is a really important part. The story of Pentecost, when the followers of
Jesus received the Holy Spirit, is important.
And similarly, the story we hear today is important. I should add that I don’t think I have ever
preached on this Scripture lesson and I suspect some here may not have heard it
before. That being said, I also think
that it is vital that we learn the point of it.
I’m nervous
about building up sermon text like that.
Let me also add that, if this sermon isn’t the most life-changing sermon
you’ve ever heard, it’s probably nothing to worry about. There are a lot of things that can keep a
sermon from being life-changing: we get distracted, we come with a bad
attitude, the preacher is not exactly “on his game,” things like that. But if, by the end of this service, you don’t
see why this story from Acts ought to be important to you, go home and read it
again. Read it again like you are one of
these dozen or so disciples that Paul meets today. Read it again like you never even knew that
there was a Holy Spirit. Read it again
and ask yourself, “What am I baptized into?”
This is an important story because this is an important question.
First, a
little background to this story: our passage today begins with mention of a guy
named Apollos; that turns out to be an important mention. Paul will speak of Apollos a few times in his
letters. They were partners in ministry,
but Apollos had a somewhat rocky start.
In Acts eighteen we meet Apollos trying to serve God. Luke tells us that in Ephesus, there was, “A Jew
named Apollos, a native of Alexandria. He was an eloquent man, well-versed in
the scriptures. He had been instructed in the Way of the Lord; and he spoke
with burning enthusiasm and taught accurately the things concerning Jesus,
though he knew only the baptism of John.” So in chapter eighteen, Apollos was
quickly and politely corrected by Priscilla and Aquila—a couple of other
colleagues of Paul—and he continued his ministry in Corinth.
Now, a couple
of things at this point: first, how about a guy who takes correction! By the way Luke describes him, he has every
reason not to be humble; he has every reason to think he’s got it all figured
out. But when a couple of siblings in
Christ tell him he isn’t exactly getting the message right, he hears it and
changes the message. He doesn’t get
defensive or start a new denomination; he listens and adapts. How much better would we be at the work
Christ calls us to if we learned to learn from one another. I’m preaching to myself here, by the
way. I meet with the Personnel Committee
next week; I’m trying to remember to keep an Apollos attitude about it; an
attitude that takes constructive criticism well and uses it to make the
ministry better.
But the other
thing is: we see today that Apollos wasn’t the only one who wasn’t quite
getting it right. Luke describes the
people Paul meets as “disciples” and “believers.” Like Apollos, they had come to know who Jesus
was and were seeking to be faithful to him.
And here’s where it gets interesting: they hadn’t gotten the right
baptism.
We aren’t
really told what it was that they believed about Jesus. There is the distinct possibility that they
learned about Jesus through Apollos, which would explain why he’s mentioned at
the start of this story. If that’s true,
they learned “accurately” the things concerning Jesus. Those central, foundational things: that he
lived; that he was crucified and died; that he rose again to life; and that he
promised he would come again.
So what’s the
problem? They believed the right stuff;
isn’t that what’s important? Are they
not a lot like us? Are these central
truths about Jesus not what we celebrate here at this Table? I am usually careful to mention, when we celebrate
this Sacrament, that this is the Lord’s
Table. Everyone who puts their trust in
Jesus, is welcomed by him to this. You
don’t have to believe what I do about Communion. You don’t even need to be a member of this
church. Personally, I think you should
be baptized somewhere before you take it, but no one is going to check your
card. Because it’s not about how redeemed
I think you are, it’s about what Jesus has done for you. This central Sacrament of Communion reminds
us that we have life eternal, not by anything we have done to earn it, but by
his work for us; a work we celebrate here in this Sacrament. But here’s the thing: we don’t just have one
Sacrament; and there’s a reason why we have two.
Repentance is
a good thing. There is nothing wrong
with the Baptism of John. John’s Baptism
reminds us that we’ve got a problem: John reminds us that God’s way is not always
our way and we need to continually find our way back. But ultimately, John’s Baptism only proves
how we are not able to stay on that path.
Thankfully, Communion reminds us that we don’t have to: that by the work
of Jesus, we belong to God no matter what.
And our Baptism
reminds us of that too, but there is something else going on. In verse three, when Paul learns that these
disciples had not even heard about the Holy Spirit, he asks them, “Into what then were you baptized?” One might think the answer might be, “Uh, I
don’t know; into the water?” But Paul’s
question is absolutely the right question; because we aren’t just baptized from something, we are baptized into something. We are baptized into God: Father, Son, and
Spirit. We are baptized into something
vastly bigger than ourselves. We are
baptized for a purpose.
Currently, the
Friday morning men’s group is reading a book by Paul Young, the guy who wrote The Shack. The book we’re reading is called Lies We Believe about God. Not a surprising title if you consider he’s
the guy who, in The Shack, depicted God as a sassy black woman. As you might imagine, each chapter tackles
what we commonly imagine about God and why those common presumptions aren’t
biblical or true. So far I haven’t argued
with him too much, that is until this week.
I was pleased to find out I wasn’t the only one in our group who thought
he was wrong in chapter six: the so-called lie was, “God Wants to Use Me.” I agree with what he meant by this, but not with the way he said it. What he meant to say was, “God merely wants to use me”: that we’re just
tools for God; that somehow God does not also want to be in relationship with
us; that somehow we’re redeemed in Christ only so that we can go to work for
God. But God absolutely wants to use us;
that is what our baptism, the Holy Spirit, and our Scripture lesson today so
profoundly show us.
We are
baptized into Jesus and Jesus wasn’t born into this world just to spend quality
time with us; Jesus absolutely wants to spend time with us, but he came into
this world primarily to be its salvation.
We are baptized into his Spirit because we are indeed used by God for
that same purpose. Notice in Scripture
what happens every time people receive the Spirit: they go to work. The Risen Jesus breathes his Spirit into his
followers and tells them, “If you forgive the sins of any, they are forgiven
them [John 20:23].” Right before he
ascends to heaven, he tells his disciples, “But you will receive power when the
Holy Spirit has come upon you; and you will be my witnesses in Jerusalem, in
all Judea and Samaria, and to the ends of the earth [Acts 1:8].” And here in our story today, as soon as they
received the Spirit, they spoke in tongues and prophesied. Now, you can read a lot into that, but the
bottom line is this: God does indeed use us.
In a
moment, we will remember this in a special way: in a moment we will be
reinstalling some previously-ordained elders.
The installation service serves several purposes: for the elder, the
re-asking of the ordination questions reminds us of what we signed up for; and
the prayer over them reminds us that we are not just about making good
decisions; we’re about doing, by the power of the Spirit, the very will of
God. But it serves a purpose for the
rest of us as well: it is a reminder that, by our baptism into God—Father, Son,
and Spirit—we are each chosen, marked and sent to share in our Savior’s work
until he comes again. This is indeed
important.
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