"Water for All of Us" (January 11, 2026 Sermon)

Preaching: Rev. Dr. Kit Schooley

Texts: Genesis 1:1-9 & Mark 1:4-11

A world that once felt like welter and waste can be reordered with a word and a pour. We follow the current from Genesis’s first light to the Jordan’s torn-open sky and into a mountain village where a wooden coffin becomes a font of resurrection. Along the way, we wrestle with an earthy, practical question—how much water is enough—and discover why the church’s oldest wisdom says the power is not in technique but in the God who meets us in ordinary elements.

I share the nerves and wonder of my first baptism in a tiny congregation and how hearing the water changed the room. We explore early Christian instructions that flex around rivers, fonts, warmth, and necessity, and we return to the heart of the act: water and the name of Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. Baptism cleanses, yes, but it also marks—like a watermark you only see when held to light—naming us as beloved and claimed. That mark isn’t ink the world can spot; it’s a witness the community learns to recognize in forgiveness, courage, and a hope that doesn’t run dry.

The story crescendo arrives before dawn in a highland village, where an elder lowers a child beneath water that fills a handcrafted coffin, then raises him with a shout of new life as Easter songs break open the morning. Death and birth, endings and beginnings, all meeting in one soaked moment. If you’ve ever wondered what baptism changes, or if you’ve only known the lightest touch of a fingertip, this journey invites you to see and hear grace flow—visible and generous—and to remember who you are when the Spirit says “well pleased.”

If this spoke to you, follow the show, share it with a friend who needs a fresh start, and leave a review telling us how water and word have shaped your story.

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Transcript

Creation, Light, And Waters

SPEAKER_00 0:00

Our first scripture today is Genesis 1, verses 1 through 9. When God beg began to create heaven and earth, and the earth was welter and waste and darkness over the deep, and God's great hovering over the waters, God said, Let there be light, and there was light. And God saw the light, that it was good, and God divided the light from the darkness. And God called the light day, and the darkness he called night. And it was evening and it was morning, first day. And God said, Let there be a vault in the midst of the waters, and let it divide water from water. And God made the vault, and it divided the water beneath the vault from the water above the vault, and so it was. And God called the vault heavens, and it was evening, and it was morning, second day. And God said, Let the waters under the heavens be gathered in one place, so that the dry land will appear. And so it was. And God called the dry land earth, and the gathering of waters he called seas. And God saw that it was good. Holy wisdom, holy word.

John’s Baptism And Jesus’ Anointing

Prayer And Setting The Theme

A First Baptism And The Water Question

How Much Water Is Enough

Ancient Practice And Flexible Means

What Baptism Does To Us

Seeing And Hearing The Water

The Mountain Village Immersion Story

New Life Proclaimed And Blessing

SPEAKER_01 1:22

Thanks be to God. Listen now for God's word as it comes from Mark's gospel. The beginning, the first chapter, beginning with Mark's fourth verse. So John the Baptist appeared in the wilderness calling for baptism and a change of heart that leads to a forgiveness of sins. Everyone, from the Judean countryside and all the residents of Jerusalem, streamed out to him and were baptized by him in the Jordan River, admitting their sin. And John was dressed in camel hair and wore a leather belt around his waist and lived on locusts and raw honey. And he began his proclamation by saying, Someone more powerful than I will succeed me, whose sandal straps I am not fit to bend down and untie. I have been baptizing you with water, but he will baptize you with the Holy Spirit. And so it was during that same period Jesus came from Nazareth in Galilee, and he too was baptized in the Jordan by John. And just as he came up out of the water, he saw the skies torn open, and the spirit coming down toward him like a dove. And there was also a voice from the skies. You are my favored son, in you I am well pleased. Holy wisdom, holy word. Join me in prayer. Lord, these are my words, make them yours. We are your people. Keep us close as we listen for your speaking to us. In Christ's name. Amen. It was in 1997 in a small, very small, 36-member congregation on the banks of the C D Canal that I was asked to baptize a baby. I was the pastor there for about a year, showing up for Saturday and Sunday. And this was the first time, I think, in decades, that there was to be a baptism. And likewise, it turned out to be my first baptism to do. And so I got out the books to make sure I did it right. And in a book written just a few years before 1997, I read these words. That was a new idea then. Today, pastors in our tradition are guided by these words: water shall be applied to a person by pouring, sprinkling, or immersion. By whatever mode, the water should be applied visibly and generously. Now, in former years, directions from on high about water in the font were simple. They went like this, as little as possible, as quick as possible. I remember a baptism early in my ministry in which the minister put his hand in a small bowl, put his hand in there, touched the baby's head lightly, gently, three times, saying the prescribed words, never returning his hand to the bowl. Standing nearby in a pew, I remember thinking, I neither saw nor heard the water. If baptism's significance had any connection with washing or cleansing, that occasion seemed to me was more like dry cleaning. Now, that's not to say that such a baptism was insufficient. It's the word that's spoken along with the water that's given that counts. In the name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit, I baptize you. And I have to say that that memory does bring up a silly story that I heard about two preachers. One was a disciple of Christ preacher, but if you'd rather you could say it was a Baptist preacher, and a Presbyterian preacher, and they were debating just how much water would be needed. The disciples of Christ pastor, of course, believed in total, thorough, deep immersion. And the Presbyterian pastor, a little troubled by that, said, Well, just how much water do you need? Like, up to the knees? And the disciple's pastor said, more. And the Presbyterian took a breath and he said, up to the neck? And the disciple's pastor said, more. And the Presbyterian pastor said, over the head? And the disciple said, Yes. And the Presbyterian pastor said, Yes, that's what we do. Over the head. The earliest record we have of a Christian baptism comes from the year about 250 of the Christian era. And it says this let the water be flowing in the font and poured over. If the necessity is permanent and urgent, not quite sure what that means, if the necessity is permanent, urgent, use what water you can find. And following which, in this account, they listed six kinds of water from a spring on down through a puddle. And then it continued, if you have no running water, baptize in other water. If you cannot do it in cold water, do it in warm water. But if you have neither, pour water over their head three times. Baptism, as most of us know, is about dying to an old way of life that we have a short-term word for sin. And turning from the devil and his wily ways toward a life rooted in a risen Savior. So baptism, frankly, is about God transforming us, making us, molding us into something new. And finally, it's about living and growing in a community like this that meets together once a week in our holy place to worship that God who transforms us. And finally, baptism is meant to wash away, cleanse, change us. Wash away the world that seems to collect all over us. The world that, as the translation you heard from Genesis this morning, the world was a place of welter and waste and darkness. And then it was miraculously transformed by light and by water. But besides washing us away, washing the old life away, baptism is also making a mark. A mark sort of like a watermark on fine stationery that you have to hold up to the light to discern. So we too have been held up to the light in baptism, a light that God supplies, and then God knows us as God's child. Unlike the marks we get in life of battles or marks of birth, unlike marks of branding or marks of tattooing, these are marks of God. And perhaps only God's people ever look to see them. For the rest of the world, the marks on us go unseen, unsought. But you and I have been there on those days when the sacrament is administered. And we are here now to testify, to say, yes, we have seen the water. The water has come down and has left its mark. This person has been claimed by God. Some would use, as we heard a bit earlier, only a small, modest amount of water. I don't know if you watched this morning when Landon poured that water. It seemed like it took about three minutes, didn't it? There's a lot of water down there. It's one of the things we like in this congregation to hear and to see the water that changed us, that made us who we are. And so I'm reminded of a story I would like to close with. It's a dramatic story. The story might frighten you at first, but I assure you all turns out well in the end. It's a story of a baptism in a South American village high in the mountains. The story opens when it's not yet morning. Everyone is gathered in the pre-dawn stillness, everyone from the village. Their eyes are focused watching an old man of the village. He has brown, leathery skin. It's stretched taut over what seems like only bone and sinew on him. He looks to be so fragile that a breeze might blow him away like it would a leaf in the fall. But his eyes are alive, and his face is filled with joy. And he reaches out his rough, gnarled hand, and without any hint of reluctance, a naked baby is placed in those gnarled hands. And then another man, turns out to be the father of this infant, produces a small wooden coffin that he has made with his own hands. And although it's small, those gathered from the village recognize that this coffin is large enough to hold the baby now resting in those gnarled hands. And everyone watches with anticipation, expectation. And with that, the father goes to the front and leads the members of the village up a hill, processing to their cemetery. All of them singing songs about death and sadness. And in a short time the whole village has made it to the middle of their memorials to their dead. And the father takes that coffin and he places it on the ground. And some from the village have brought pitchers of water. And they come forward and they pour their water into the coffin until it is filled to the very top. They pour it until it can hold no more. And then the old man lifts up that baby as the sky goes from dark to morning's pink. His eyes are screwed shut, and his mouth is silently working the words that have been spoken for centuries, and all eyes are now on the baby. And with grace, the old man gently places the infant into the water until it goes over his whole body, including his head. And then the old man says, I baptize you in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit. And suddenly he lifts the child up out of the water and he shouts, I raise you up to new life in Jesus Christ. And immediately the infant screams, taking his first breath, his first breath as a Christian. And at this, everyone in the village breaks out singing Easter hymns. They sing with joy, they sing with vigor. A new Christian has been added to the ranks of the faithful. In stunning variety like this, baptism pours out in places near and far, always bringing together beginnings and endings, births and deaths, new life or renewed life, and God whispering every time, this one, this one marked with water, in this one I am well pleased. And so would it be for us, God, with us, well pleased. Amen and amen.