Onlookers, people like you and me, witnessed the unveiled mystery of heaven for the first time on the shoreline of the Jordan River. It was the day Jesus stepped into the river to be baptized. It was the moment in history when Jesus began to reveal God’s extravagant love. This was the day onlookers saw and heard, for the first time, God’s unveiled presence (the Trinity). Since then, we’ve seen many manifestations . . . Believers in Jesus actually carry God’s presence around.
I’ve been reading a new book by Bill Johnson entitled Hosting the Presence in which he talks about how to pay attention to the Holy Spirit and respond to Him and how God’s Spirit manifests Himself, plus stories of Presence-filled revivalists and personal encounters with the Presence! (These are some of the descriptive words from the back cover.) Of course, this makes me crave more of the Holy Spirit’s presence and favor! It’s amazing to think about. We are living in the Age of the Holy Spirit. It makes me wonder, why am I so complacent about it, way too content with the measure of experience I’ve known so far? I’ve had some pretty extraordinary things happen in my Christian life to know that God wants to give us miraculous, supernatural experiences — it is because God is God and wants to live through us on earth.
Here’s a question Bill Johnson asks the reader: “How do you want people to remember you? People work so hard to create an image and form a reputation for themselves. For some it’s their beauty or their skills. For others it’s their significance or their place in society. And still others work hard to create an image from the spiritual gifts they operate in. The Bible even teaches us the value of a good name (see Prov. 22:1). It is obviously important if it’s done correctly. But if you could choose one thing to be known for, one thing that would distinguish you from everyone else, what would it be?”
I know my answer: “To be known as someone who knows and loves Jesus.” That’s why I write about Him. Anyway, the topic of “hosting God’s presence” really leads nicely into the next chapter of the ebook I’m working on entitled Come and See. Hope you enjoy!
6 – Holy Immersion
And a voice from heaven said, “This is my Son,
whom I love; with him I am well pleased.”
Matthew 3:17
John the Baptist, at the Jordan River . . .
I have come to call that day “the day of days.” Yet it began as a typical one during those many months I spent south of Jericho when God sent me to preach and baptize his people.
I knew that the time was ripe for the sons and daughters of Jacob to come near to the true, living God, and to make room for him in their hearts. I could no longer stomach that our people were being led by imposters in Judea, who compromised our inheritance and set religious traps for their own gain. Rome oppressed us, but the wolves of Judea added more than greed to the mix of worship in the temple. It was God’s loving jealousy that I preached and baptized his flock.
I knew from childhood that I was the one to prepare the way for the Messiah. And the Spirit of the Most High encouraged me, revealing that his days were near, even at hand. I baptized the people in water, but he would baptize them with fire. All this had been shown to me. And so I proclaimed his words with the fire of my mouth, which was what the God of Jacob had given me.
On what I thought was an ordinary morning, my disciples reported that a group from Galilee had arrived the evening before just before sunset. Some had sought accommodation and food in the nearby village and some had come ahead here, to the river, and settled in their own tents.
The villagers were not slow to take advantage of the situation. Shelters of sticks, grass and mud, plus a number of guestrooms in houses, sprang up to accommodate them, not without cost. By word of mouth, a steady stream of people had been coming to us for what turned out to be more than a year. New groups of pilgrims quickly replaced the ones before.
You would have thought that on that day, the day for which my entire life had been groomed, I would have felt his presence—known he was so near—perceived him coming. But I did not.
I had not noticed him until he stood directly in front of me, head bowed, hands clasped together in prayer. Next in the line, his eyes were closed. I supposed that the man before me was so deeply in prayer that he hadn’t known it was his turn to be immersed. It wasn’t until one of my disciples tapped him on the shoulder, encouraging him to step closer to me, that he then looked up. When our eyes met, my heart leapt. At once, my entire being cried within me, “It’s him!” I didn’t recognize him as Jesus, my cousin, at first; I knew him as the Promised One.
Many years had passed since I’d seen him. At first, he said nothing to me. Two of my disciples moved closer, concerned that something was upsetting me. He, in turn, looked at me with such an open, expectant face, awaiting my instructions. I was glad that he did not smile or make light conversation about seeing me again, because the moment had taken on such a solemn import within my spirit that I could hardly breathe. He simply waited for me to say or do something. It seemed an eternity passed while I tried to find my tongue, for all I could do was gaze at the sight of him. It was probably only seconds that passed, but in that brief span, I felt the weight of the moment. The Messiah stood before me—the one with “no beginnings.” Mary’s son. My cousin.
Oh, my Lord of heaven and earth. Lord of heaven and earth!
I was not about to baptize him. With a racing heart and weakening knees, I glanced at my disciples as they approached me. They had sensed something happening to me. Something strange. But I managed to wave them off.
Jesus, seeing this, bowed his head again. He wanted me to proceed. But I couldn’t. It was absurd.
“I need to be baptized by you, and do you come to me?” I finally managed to speak.
Looking up again into my face, he took hold of my shoulders and, leaning close to me, luminous eyes only inches from mine, said in a low voice, “Let it be so now. It is proper for us to do this to fulfill all righteousness.”
I stared blankly back. But he nodded his head to say he meant it, encouraging me to do as he wished.
The water was nearly waist-high. As I recall, I nodded in agreement and raised my hands to put them on his shoulders and the moment my fingertips touched the top of his shoulders, he knelt so that his head disappeared beneath the surface. As he went down, I gently touched the top of his head. When I removed them, he came up out of the water, head still bowed, hands clasped in prayer as before. Water trickled in streams from his hair and beard.
Suddenly the loudest thunderclap I have ever heard tore open heaven above us. Fear gripped everyone—that is, everyone except him. The noise from above seemed appropriate to me. I couldn’t help but smile. I stepped reverently back from him and lifted my hands in worship.
Clouds parted and a beam of sunlight shone down on us. A dove-like manifestation of the Holy Spirit gracefully descended and lit upon him. A voice from above followed: “You are my Son, whom I love; with you I am well pleased.”
Smiling, Jesus lifted his face to the sky, eyes closed. It was terribly bright all around us. He stayed this way for a little while. Afterward, he looked at me, and his face shone with gladness, the likes of which I’ve never seen on any other face. His delight was so contagious that I found myself caught up in the same ecstasy as he. The light around us dimmed to normal, the dove disappeared, and what remained was the two of us full of smiles. We embraced.
Jesus thanked me, kissed both cheeks, and slowly walked away and out of the river. He stepped along the shore, bent to find his sandals and put them on, and then went on his way, walking around and in-between a crowd of people. All eyes were fastened on him. Some of the people reached out to touch him as he passed by. Some softly blessed him or praised God as he walked along. He disappeared from our eyes over a small hill, behind an outcrop of wild brush.
Awe had filled all of us and we became an unmoving crowd of onlookers until after he left.
The entire drama had unfolded so suddenly, without any hint or sign of its coming, that it took me a few minutes to recover enough to know that I, too, must retreat from the place. Overcome with joy, I excused myself from my disciples and the people for the day.
My entire life had brought me to this. My cousin, of whom my mother had spoken so well of years before, was the Son of God. I wanted to let the awe of it fill my soul. I went to my cave and worshiped until the next morning. When I returned to the Jordan, I looked for him, but it was more than forty days before I saw him again.
**
What a wonder . . .
Since Eden’s paradise was lost, God’s designs for redemption waited for the right time. And this was it. It came about, as is customary, that a courier be sent ahead of a king to announce his arrival. That proclamation was heard upon God’s chosen land two thousand years ago. For months, the courier stood beside a gentle river that flowed through the dry, barren landscape, crying out to thirsty hearts that God’s kingdom was coming to them.
Through John the Baptist, the Holy Spirit cried out, “Come! Come to the waters! Come, wash, and draw near to me. Turn from your lifeless, sinful lives—I want to see your faces.”
Answering the call to be baptized, Jesus humbly immersed himself in the waters of repentance. Of course there was no sin in him, but he would fulfill all righteousness. In him, in his death, we would find resurrection. And so, Jesus said Yes to his Father. He would take the sins of the world upon himself through death, be buried, and rise to live a resurrected life. This is what his baptism symbolized.
Jesus knew his mission fully.
And, so, it was that John and Jesus began to reveal the coming of God’s Kingdom. Soon the land would spring forth with vibrant life from rivers of blessing, from the Anointed One; his Grace would be poured out upon them—from his words and actions—from his Life.
Just imagine . . .
For thirty years, sensitive to his Father’s will, Jesus waited. He did not step out into ministry until the time was right. When his cousin began to preach and baptize in the wilderness, Jesus knew his time was drawing near. He understood John’s mission: to prepare the hearts of the people for his own ministry.
Can you imagine the thoughts and feelings Jesus might have experienced when he first heard the news of his cousin’s preaching and baptizing activities? What a wonderful moment it must have been when John and Jesus stood face-to-face in the river and the Spirit of God came upon them. In that pivotal moment in time, the Mystery of heaven was manifested and seen by witnesses—the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit—for the very first time. And, because this was such an extraordinary unveiling, it was attested to by God’s chosen prophet. According to Jesus’ own words about him, he was the greatest of all the prophets, up until this moment.
Certainly, John’s heart would have leapt as he stood with Jesus. Had he not leapt within his mother’s womb thirty years before when encountering the Son of God’s presence when brought close to him?
How wonderful this moment was! For the dove of the Spirit lit upon the Son of Man, and the Father’s voice was heard. How could anyone fully grasp the wonder of that event? That moment in the eternal annals of history was a shining moment for God. And, so, too, for us.
It was for Jesus’ sake, not only for those present, that God the Father’s voice sounded audibly. “You are my Son, whom I love; with you I am well pleased.”
Why did the Father say this to his Son? Did Jesus need to hear this? Didn’t he already know where he’d come from?—didn’t he know he was God’s only begotten Son, having come from heaven? Is it possible that Jesus lived his life in faith, like we all must, and that he understood his own identity through faith? Could it have been an unfolding revelation? He knew who he was at the age of twelve because he’d wanted to “be about his Father’s business” when he’d been left behind in Jerusalem.
At this time, at the age of thirty, Jesus heard the audible voice of God and he did not say, “He is my beloved Son.” Rather, God said, “You are my beloved Son.” This was an event, a shared experience, and in it they surely gloried in one another.
Can you see yourself there? Imagine the scene. Ask the Holy Spirit to guide you to experience being there. Imagine that you are a witness, maybe even one of those who had come to hear John the Baptist. Let God prepare your heart, for the Lord is always coming to us in new ways. Let yourself feel the marvel of that extraordinary moment in history.
Journal Exercise . . .
Jesus, the Lord, was baptized and took upon himself the mission to give himself—his very life—to redeem us. Can you appreciate this sacred hour in his life and that of the world? Summarize in your journal insights or thoughts that are meaningful to you about Jesus’ baptism.
Have you been baptized in the manner in which Jesus was?—with full consent, wishing to demonstrate your desire to live for God? It is something Jesus wants us to do—as he taught his disciples to baptize new believers in the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit—so that we might experience that which he experienced. It is meaningful to God. It’s an intentional, rather formal, as well as a celebrative act, isn’t it? What are your memories of your baptism? You can be sure, your baptism, if heartfelt, was a delightful moment for God, too.
Writers have mentors they look up to and one of mine is author Calvin Miller. I met him once. He sat across from me at a table for six at a writers conference. He was one of many presenters and guests that day. I was delightfully surprised to see an open place at his table during our lunch break. Conference attendees were encouraged to choose and join a featured guest, agent, editor, or speaker at their assigned table with the promise of engaging with him or her one-on-one. It was a chance to get advice, pitch your book idea, or make a connection with someone in the Christian publishing industry. I didn’t care to sit with an agent or an acquisitions editor, nor anyone else, not when Calvin Miller was in the room! Holy Moly!
Christian Book Author Margaret Montreuil's Blog 