God who brings life out of death - Redeemer Episcopal Church

Mark 1:9-15

The Baptism of Jesus

9 In those days Jesus came from Nazareth of Galilee and was baptized by John in the Jordan. 10 And just as he was coming up out of the water, he saw the heavens torn apart and the Spirit descending like a dove on him. 11 And a voice came from heaven, “You are my Son, the Beloved; with you I am well pleased.”

The Temptation of Jesus

12 And the Spirit immediately drove him out into the wilderness. 13 He was in the wilderness forty days, tempted by Satan; and he was with the wild beasts; and the angels waited on him.

The Beginning of the Galilean Ministry

14 Now after John was arrested, Jesus came to Galilee, proclaiming the good news of God, 15 and saying, “The time is fulfilled, and the kingdom of God has come near; repent, and believe in the good news.”

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This sermon was originally preached in a specific place with a specific people in a specific time, but we believe in a God who transcends time and space, so I hope that this word might speak to you as well. You can read the manuscript below, or you can listen to the sermon (and see it preached with infusions from the Spirit) by finding it within our worship service video at this link. 

God of life, be with us this morning as we are reminded of Jesus’ journey from baptism, through the wilderness, and into the work of bringing about the Kingdom of God. Amen. 

A couple of weeks ago, Father Wiley talked about the language in Mark’s gospel. It is fast-paced and no-nonsense. It moves so rapidly from one scene to the next that if you’re not paying attention you might miss something important. Compared to the other gospel accounts, there is barely any detail at all and it feels like time is moving super quickly. 

In this pandemic, I have noticed that it has felt like time has kind of morphed into nothingness. On a good day, I know what day of the week it is. On a bad day, I forget the month. Perhaps some of you feel this way too. 

Maybe it’s because we are almost exactly a year out from when the news first broke about this pandemic and we began hunkering down and cancelling things. It seems that time has both compressed and expanded at the same time. 

That is what Mark’s gospel reading feels like this morning. It is quick and has very little detail. There is no long, drawn out description of Jesus’ baptism, no wild narrative of the temptation in the wilderness. We just get these events in rapid succession. 

I think part of the reason is because, for Mark, these are just markers in time. One sentence marks the proclamation of Jesus’ identity. And the next marks the beginning of Jesus’ formation within that identity. Mark doesn’t dwell on any of this because the real story here is that Jesus has work to do in the world! 

As we enter, perhaps timidly, into the season of Lent, we see that Jesus is thrust into the wilderness. We see that everything moves quickly and wildly, from one scene to the next. It feels so much how we are living today— being thrown into the next season of life and liturgy before we have even processed the last. 

But that is the way that time works. I’m reminded often that the older I get, the faster time moves.  And we see Mark employing these rapid pace because baptism is not the end of the story for Jesus. It is not the finish line where he receives his glory— it is only the beginning of what will come. Jesus’ baptism is where he claims his identity and is claimed by God, the very beginning of his formation as God’s child. 

After this, Jesus is thrown into the wilderness, tempted, formed, reformed, and then brought back from the wilderness for his work in the world— the healing, touching, speaking, teaching, loving, invitation— that he will extend to the ends of the earth. The work of the coming of the Kingdom of God. 

The same is true for us in our own baptism. Whether we were baptized as babies, children, or later in our lives, our baptism is only the beginning of our journey with God. Baptism is the first part— an important, vital part— where God says, “yes, this is my child, and no one can name this child anything differently than my beloved.” And then…. And THEN we begin to live into that identity, being thrown into the wilderness of formation, and reformation, questioning, doubt, and new faith. And then we are thrust into the world to participate in the coming of the kingdom of God, with the new knowledge of what it means to be God’s children in the world. 

This morning we also heard the beginning of God’s promise to God’s people after the flood in Genesis. What looks like death for the entire world is actually new life for Noah and his family. The promise of God after the destruction of creation is not the END of God’s relationship with the world, it is the beginning of a new covenant. It is the beginning of a new relationship that will be marked by flourishing and abundance instead of scarcity and rebellion. 

This pattern continues in worship. The confession, the lament we cried out in the Great Litany is not the end of our liturgy, but the beginning of God’s promise to us. God promises to hear us and forgive us each time we come before the alter with our confessions and our laments. Each week, there is a part of our liturgy that we do just that— and then God welcomes us into a new relationship in the body and blood of Christ Jesus at this table. 

And again, it is the same with Ash Wednesday, where we were reminded that we come from the dust and that we will return to the dust. Being reminded of death seems like it would be an ending, but not for our God. God does incredible things with death. 

No, Ash Wednesday is not the end of our season for renewal and growth, but the beginning. God looks at our mortality and says, “I can do something beautiful with that.” And we smear ash on our foreheads, almost as a mockery to death that lingers so near, God only begins working in this season. No, God says, you have no power over my children because they have been claimed by me who bring life out of death. 

We’ll see it as we move through this season of Lent. Whether it flies by or drags along, seemingly endlessly… or whether time continues to contract and expand in incomprehensible ways like it has all year… we will see that God brings life out of death. We will see that this darkness, this wilderness, is only the beginning of what God has in store for God’s people. 

Because God is in the business of bringing about the Kingdom— and the Kingdom of God is full of life, abundance, and flourishing— and death cannot stop it. Despite the start of this season when we come face to face with the darkness, wilderness, and even death— we know, truly, that it is not the end. We know what comes next, we know what comes after baptism and being thrust into the wilderness— it is Jesus’ work bringing about the coming of the Kingdom of God. It is the feast, THIS feast. And it is OUR participation in this feast, in this kingdom work. It is life everlasting, coming at us rapidly, wonderfully, in time that is ever expanding and contracting to meet us. Amen.