January 11, 2026

A long-standing television program I have enjoyed is called The Voice. In the show, various vocal coaches and singers critique a singer’s performances. The coaches’ chairs are faced towards the audience during artists’ performances; those interested in an artist press their button, which turns their chair towards the artist and illuminates the bottom of the chair to read “I want you.” At the conclusion of the performance, an artist either defaults to the only coach who turned around or selects their coach if more than one coach expresses interest. The judging occurs without any other background or image of the singer — only their voice.

Voices feature prominently in our readings on this feast of the baptism of Jesus. In the psalm, the voice of the Lord is upon the waters. God’s voice is like a powerful storm: breaking trees, bursting forth in lightning, shaking the wilderness, stripping the forests bare. It’s the voice of God we sense in nature that has a power that we cannot control or harness. 

Jesus surely needed to find his voice and live into his calling. The voice at Jesus’ baptism comes from the heavens. We only hear this mysterious voice here and at his transfiguration. This voice confirms Jesus as God’s son, as the beloved one. One scholar notes that both voices are an epiphany: the voice of the thunderstorm and the voice from heaven at the Jordan River.  The storm says, “This is my cosmos,” the baptismal voice says, “This is my Christ.” (James Mays)

Henri Nouwen writes:

Many voices ask for our attention.  There is a voice that says, ‘Prove that you are a good person.’ Another voice says, ‘You’d better be ashamed of yourself.’ There is also a voice that says, ‘Nobody really cares about you,’ and one that says, ‘Be sure to become successful, popular, and powerful.’ But underneath all these often very noisy voices is a still, small voice that says, ‘You are my beloved, my favor rests on you.’ That’s the voice we need most of all to hear. To hear that voice, however, requires special effort; it requires solitude, silence, and a strong determination to listen.  That’s what prayer is. It is listening to the voice that calls us ‘my beloved.’ Bread for the Journey: A Daybook of Wisdom and Faith (1996, HarperOne).

In a pivotal moment in The Lion King, Rafiki asks Simba, “Who are you?” Rafiki confronts Simba’s denial of his true identity as the rightful heir to the Pride Lands. It is only later that Simba finally gets it, when his late father Mufasa speaks to him from the sky: “Remember who you are. . . . You are my son and the one true king.” Only then is Simba able to come to terms with his past, lay claim to his identity, and take up his responsibility to restore the Pride Lands.

Matthew’s telling of Jesus’ baptism is often seen as an announcement to everyone about who Jesus is: “This is my Son, the Beloved, with whom I am well pleased.” But it is more than a public address. Jesus’ baptism is also his own calling to remember who he is.

The context matters. Jesus’ baptism comes immediately after John the Baptist’s cry to the people to repent. It is time-sensitive: they must prepare for the one who will usher in the kingdom of God. When Pharisees and Sadducees come to be baptized, John scoffs, warning that they will be “cut down and thrown into the fire” for their failure to bear good fruit (Matt. 3:2–7).

Amid such turmoil and division, it can be confusing and difficult to find a voice. White grievance and rage are baked into the DNA of this nation, with racism as our nation’s original sin.  And we struggle to hear and be a voice to bring forth justice and be a light to the nations, as Isaiah puts it. 

There are the voices in our heads telling us we are not good enough, attractive enough, or wealthy enough. The voices are trying to get us to succumb to groupthink and tribalism, hanging only with those who vote like us and think like us. We are tempted to think that we have God all figured out because God is surely exactly like us and agrees with us. 

John the Baptist preached a baptism of repentance. He cried out in the wilderness, pleading with the people to turn towards life and be baptized for the forgiveness of sins. His baptism was an invitation to the Jewish people to begin again, to rededicate themselves to their mission as God’s people and reorient their lives toward the coming Messiah. 

And Jesus’ first public act is one of humility for himself to be humbled and baptized by John.

Christian baptism has its roots in John’s ministry of baptism-cleansing, forgiveness, repentance (or turning towards life), and beginning anew. Baptism begins with a turning, a shouting the big NO to all the forces that defy God, so that we can say yes to Jesus’ way of loving the enemy, serving one another, forgiving the sinner, healing the sick, and ending hierarchy and domination. 

Baptism is political and rooted in protest. In the early church, to be baptized into the new life in Christ was a political act. Jesus’ ministry in the Roman Empire proclaimed the truth of God’s inclusive love to power. Baptism washes us into the life of Jesus, rejects the unjust powers of the empire, and grants us citizenship in God’s kin-dom. In baptism, we say NO to the self-serving ways of sin and death, and we say YES to the self-giving way of the cross. 

In baptism, we hear that our lives and this planet matter tremendously to God. In baptism, we hear that we are created in love and given a calling for the sake of the whole creation to be instruments of justice and peace. Martin Luther, church reformer and theologian, said we should remember our baptism daily, dying to sin and our old self and rising again to new life, reorienting ourselves to a life marked by Christ’s compassion and grace.  

On this festival day, the Baptism of our Lord, we read about Jesus’ baptism and remember our own. Even if we can’t remember the actual event, we remember, with all the saints, the call and the promise.

Will you live out your baptismal calling and say no to all that defiles God? Say NO to white supremacy and its demonic legacy in our country? Say NO to serving self above all else? Say NO to unjust systems that benefit one group of people at the expense of others. Say NO to abuse of self, others, and our planet? Say NO to empty promises and complicity? This day, every day, boldly shout a strong NO to all that destroys and deceives, and turn toward the Holy One’s YES that proclaims, “You are beloved of God.” 

Water washed and Spirit born, trusting God’s mercy when we fail, we seek to love and serve in Jesus’ name, clinging to the promise that nothing will separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus.” Amen.

Jesus always stands with the voiceless. On the cross, he cries out: “My God, why have you abandoned me?” He will fulfill all righteousness as he enters into the depths of what it means to be human, to the point of sharing our suffering and death. 

When the voices in your head are overwhelming . . . when you don’t know what to make of the myriad voices in the news and in your feeds. When your voice cracks and croaks under the strain of life, listen to the still, small voice within. Listen to the divine voice announcing forgiveness and grace. Listen to the radical message of impartiality that proclaims all are created in God’s image. Listen to the voice of hope that envisions a different future, even when everyone else is shouting that the world is falling apart. 

The voice of the Lord is upon the waters. Hear the words of grace. You are my beloved. You are marked with the cross of Christ. Nothing can separate you from such love and mercy.

And we, too, find our voice. In baptism. Here. Together. 

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