March 28, 2004
"Water for the Desert"

Any parent who has ever adopted a child knows the joy of bringing a new member into the family. Many, many children are orphaned from the love of a family in this very broken, very fallen world of ours. All the tragic circumstances of that world can leave a child without a home—things like teenage pregnancies, unwanted children, unfit parents who abuse or desert their children, drug abuse, prison, even sudden death, all these things can leave a child alone and unloved. Thank God there are also many adults who long to be parents, sometimes traveling to the far side of the globe, sometimes paying thousands of dollars, just to take one of these children into their own home, and keep them safe.

In sin we were orphaned from God’s love, but that love remained so incredibly strong that he was willing to come all the way to earth and pay the price we could not possibly afford to adopt us into his family.

Today is a very special day for all the Mosser family in presenting Annika for baptism. They are all proud of this pretty little girl, and well they should be, but it is also a very special day for God, who is doing a wonderful thing, maybe the most wonderful thing that God does, adopting Annika as his own precious daughter. People, I’ve discovered, have a misguided view of baptism; they think that baptism is something that we do for God. That’s why some Christians question the idea of infant baptisms, asking how a baby can declare an intent to live according to God’s principles.

But baptism is not about what we do for God; it’s all about what God does for us.

Actually, Jesus made it plain that tiny children can and do have faith in him. The Gospels make it clear that children from infancy to adolescence were just naturally drawn to him, and Jesus said, “Don’t keep children away from me; the kingdom of heaven will be their inheritance.” Why? Because of their simple faith. Have you ever heard the expression, “Out of the mouths of babes?” That comes from the Gospel of Matthew, where Jesus declares, “Haven’t you read the scriptures? It says, ‘Out of the mouths of babes and nursing children, God has perfected praise.’ “

But that’s not what God is all about this morning. This morning God is here in our midst to finalize his adoption of Annika as his own daughter, and water is his means of sealing the deal. In a courtroom adoption the judge signs the papers in ink, but the God who knitted this child together in her mother’s womb uses water to wash her in his grace, and to be an outward and visible sign to all of us that “This precious little baby is my beloved. Cherish her, nurture and protect her as you all have been cherished, nurtured and protected by my hand.”

Washing is a very common experience, something most of us do every day, sometimes a number of times during the day. Babies need to be washed and wiped constantly, for obvious reasons, and I assume that Annika is no different than any other baby in that regard. But the washing we do today is special, it is different than any kind of routine bath. The washing she receives today is permanent. When we are washed in grace we don’t need to be rewashed over and over. It is for all time, and it leads to a beautiful future. Baptism is like a gate, a gate you walk through and declare your intention to live by God’s principles.

Michael and Catherine, of course, are declaring this on behalf of Annika, but they are also declaring their own intention to raise her in what is called “the nurture and admonition of the Lord, and the fellowship of the church.” Their tools will include prayer, teaching her the Bible, and their own good example. Then when children do grow up, it is hoped that because of the way she was raised and taught, Annika will want to confirm for herself the covenant that her parents and the church have made for her today. Obviously, because they live half a continent away, this won’t happen here in this particular church, although we hope they will visit often.

Still, this baptism means a lot to all of us here in this church not just for Annikah’s sake, or for Bill and Carolyn’s sake but for ourselves. It reminds us to renew our commitment to God, a commitment that was made on our behalf in our own baptism.

In the Presbyterian Church, baptism is always conducted as part of a worship service, as a declaration before all of the people of God. This is different, for example, than baptism in the Catholic church, where I was baptized as a baby. In the Catholic church baptism is usually performed on a Sunday afternoon, after everyone has gone home from Mass. And to me that’s a little sad, because baptisms are a wonderful opportunity for all of us to rededicate ourselves to living lives that set a good example, a godly example, for every child we may encounter.

But there’s more. Even though most of us were baptized as babies, when we witness a baptism we are reminded of our own baptism, filled with memories of a loving God who adopted us into his family. How is that possible, you say? Who can remember what happened when we were a few weeks or a few months old? Well, I’m glad you asked.

One of the things that unites us all, every last blessed one of us, is that after we are baptized, we must go into the desert at some point in our lives. That’s what happened to Jesus; he was baptized in the Jordan, he heard the voice of his Father saying, “Son, I’m proud of you,” and immediately the spirit of God led him into the desert to be tempted. This was necessary so that his mission could be confirmed. Temptation is a fork in the road, a chance to rise or fall, and Jesus chose to be obedient to his father’s will, to be the instrument of the world’s salvation.

Isn’t that what happens to us? Following Jesus into the desert, trying to be people of grace who do set good examples for children, can feel excruciating at times, and I use that word deliberately, for it literally means to suffer the pain of crucifixion. In our culture nobody wants to suffer the pain of self-denial. The message of this culture is to pamper yourself, look after yourself, be kind to yourself, spend the money on yourself, because you deserve it, because you’re worth it. But that kind of an attitude distracts us from God, and especially from what his love really feels like.

How many people here have ever been in love? When you first realized you were in love, what was the number one overriding concern you had in your life? Isn’t the most important concern, how am I going to make this relationship last? How am I going to keep this love going? When you fall in love, are you inclined to be selfish and aloof? No, just the opposite—you want to make the other person’s happiness the paramount goal of your every waking moment.

Let me tell you the most wonderful news there can be: God is deeply, madly in love with you, and has been ever since you started to grow in your mother’s womb. But it was on your baptism day that he first said the amazing words, “I love you. You are mine forever.” And when we trudge into the desert periods of our lives, when we struggle with temptation, when we feel the pain of trying to live for God instead of ourselves, that’s when we also rediscover the joy that comes from knowing how much you are loved, from knowing that you might have to walk in the desert, but you never have to walk alone.

You have to experience the lows in life before you can fully appreciate the highs. That’s what I mean when I say we have memories of our own baptism. Being washed never felt so good than after you’ve walked in the desert for awhile.

As I was writing the sermon this week, I was reminded of a Mother Goose rhyme I haven’t thought of for many years.

Monday’s child is fair of face; Tuesday’s child is full of grace; Wednesday’s child is full of woe. Thursday’s child has far to go. Friday’s child is loving and giving. Saturday’s child works hard for a living. But the child born on Sabbath Day is kind and wise and good and gay. This rhyme is really just a sweet little jingle, with one important exception—on this Sabbath Day we celebrate the rebirth of Annika Mosser. We celebrate her special adoption into God’s own family. We celebrate the joy she has already brought to her mom and dad, and the wonderful potential she already carries inside her tiny heart. We hope that all her life she really will be kind and wise and good and gay.

Michael, Catherine, I wish I could promise you that Annika will never have to walk in desert moments throughout her life. Parents wish only happy moments for their children. But just based on our own experience, we know, sadly, that it just isn’t true. The human condition is fraught with fear, loneliness, grief, anger, frustration, all sorts of moments when we wonder if at the end of the day whether we’re really all by ourselves on this planet. Just as you can’t get to Vanderbilt without going up one hill and down another, so you can’t get through life without traveling through spiritual wastelands along with times of great joy and satisfaction.

But what is most important when we hit these periods is to remember our own baptism, and think, “Jesus made it through the desert, and with his help, so can I.” What you’ve done today by bringing Annika for baptism is confirming that she will never walk in the desert alone. The God who adopted her will walk by her side forever.

A seven year old boy was leaving the courtroom where his new adopting father had just signed the final papers making the boy his son. The boy tugged at his dad’s sleeve and said “I love you.” “Thank you,” his father said, “but in these past several months, during all these proceedings, you never once said that. How come now?” And the boy responded, “You signed your name on the judge’s paper. You gave me your name. You really did adopt me. Now I know you love me.” And they walked into the rest of their family life together hand in hand.

That is you, child of God. That is all of us. Adopted through your baptism by your loving heavenly father. Walk hand in hand with him the rest of your life. Amen.