Faith through Flood and Fire: Isaiah 42:1-7 - Baptism of Our Lord

 ¹But now thus says the Lord,
  he who created you, O Jacob,
  he who formed you, O Israel:
 Do not fear, for I have redeemed you;
  I have called you by name, you are mine.
 ²When you pass through the waters, I will be with you;
  and through the rivers, they shall not overwhelm you;
 when you walk through fire you shall not be burned,
  and the flame shall not consume you.
 ³For I am the Lord your God,
  the Holy One of Israel, your Savior.
 I give Egypt as your ransom,
  Ethiopia and Seba in exchange for you.
 ⁴Because you are precious in my sight,
  and honored, and I love you,
 I give people in return for you,
  nations in exchange for your life.
 ⁵Do not fear, for I am with you;
  I will bring your offspring from the east,
  and from the west I will gather you;
 ⁶I will say to the north, “Give them up,”
  and to the south, “Do not withhold;
 bring my sons from far away
  and my daughters from the end of the earth—
 ⁷everyone who is called by my name,
  whom I created for my glory,
  whom I formed and made.” (NRSV)

freezing rapids by Christian Collins on flickr. CC BY-SA 2.0

There is no day more joyous in the church than the day of a baptism. Surrounded with the love of family, friends, and fellow Christians, this is about as close as we come to seeing the heavens opening up and the Spirit of God descending like a dove upon the child of God.

But no one’s ever said to me, “boy, that was fun. I hope I can do that again!”

The act of baptism can be quite scary for small children. In a church that practices infant baptism, being baptized as an adult can be extremely intimidating. Perhaps, if we turned baptism into something resembling a pool party, we’d get more takers.

Baptism is a gift—but it’s also an ordeal. Before arising as a new creation, the old human being who’s born a slave to sin is drowned in the water. Baptism is a deliberate act of death and rebirth.

For in the same way that water gives life—and two-thirds of you is water—water can be destructive and deadly. The same holds true for fire.

In our first reading from the prophet Isaiah, God does not promise to shield his people from floods and fire. Instead, God says “when you pass through the waters and the rivers; when you walk through the fire… I will be with you.”

Those for whom God was speaking had indeed been through the fire and the flood—and the danger was far from over.

The nation of Israel was in exile. Babylon and King Nebuchadnezzar had swept in, destroyed Jerusalem, and took the people prisoner in Babylon. This brought death and destruction on a scale so horrific, I simply cannot describe it here.

And God’s prophets made it crystal clear why all this was happening: God’s people and forsaken God. They neglected their fundamental duty God above all things, and love the neighbor as themselves. Not only did they incur God’s wrath, they weakened themselves as a nation by allowing greed and injustice to infest their communities.

Having lost their homes, their homeland, their temple, their neighbors and family members, and their way of life—there was little else to conclude but that God had abandoned them. All hope was lost.

In many respects, it is impossible for you or me to imagine just what this must have been like—though that’s not to say that victims of genocide in Myanmar, Syria, Bosnia-Herzegovina, Rwanda, Armenia, and during the Holocaust could not identify. The same holds true for people fleeing bloodthirsty drug lords in Central and South America.

Nevertheless, you can still experience exile—by the loss of a loved one, a marriage, a job, a home, or health. Most of us remember the past as a simpler time, where neighbors looked out for neighbors and you didn’t have to lock your doors at night. Finish high school on Friday, and a good-paying job is waiting for you on Monday at the steel mill or the foundry. Come Sunday the shops were closed, and the churches were full. There were no mass shootings or terrorist attacks. For years, politicians have promised to bring back the American Dream, and we’ve voted for them—but nothing’s really changed. This is exile.

God does not promise to quickly end the exile. Nor does God promise that the people won’t walk through fire and flood along life’s way. What God promises is saving grace. God’s people will not walk alone. In no other place, in all of scripture, does God speak so much love than here. “I have called you by name, you are mine.” “You are precious and honored in my sight, and I love you.” “I give people in exchange for you, nations in exchange for your life.”

Knowing, then, that God walks with you through the fire and through the flood, there is salvation in the fire and in the flood. Just as God’s power is at work in the waters of baptism to save, God’s power is at work in your ordeals to save. In Christ, all exiles lead to redemption.

Who are exiles in our world today? Who is exiled from life, from hope, from belonging—here in Leechburg? In our workplaces, our schools, our church? They’re lying in nursing home beds; sitting by themselves at the school lunch tables; facing empty refrigerators. They’re not here in church because Christian love and Gospel promises have not reached them. They’re lying awake at night in fear and foreboding of what tomorrow will bring.

The word of God’s love is preposterous amid so much despair and destruction. Yet one of the most powerful ways that God breaks the exile is through love. That is both the promise and the challenge for us. Israel made it home from the exile by staying together and helping each other to hold fast to the promise. The love you give and that you receive is God’s power to save amid the ordeal. For exile is loneliness, hopelessness, and lifelessness—but God’s love is made real through human love. Where love is present, faith will flourish. And together, God’s promises—which can seem so far away—come near. You hear the voice of God speaking to you: “I have called you by name, you are mine.” “You are precious and honored in my sight, and I love you.”