Leyla is baptized today. The water in the font is not moving that much. But when we spilled it over her head, you could hear the splash and see the fall of water from her head back into the font. Water, even when it appears still, is still moving.

In baptism Water and Word come together. It is the word of promise, of hope, that amidst all the struggles and storms of life, God will never forsake Leyla. God will always, no matter what, travel with her on the life’s journey. God will always love her.

But you can’t have baptism without water. And if you think the Word part is difficult to understand, water, too, is a tricky thing, this primary conveyor of grace and meaning for us today.

On the one hand we dream and recite scripture about walking beside quiet and still waters (Psalm 23). We read about the river of life flowing through the new Jerusalem (Revelation). We consider the vital nourishment rainfall gives to the earth so desperate and dry. Water is a gift. It is necessary, required for life.

Yet, sometimes those waters can get rough. Indeed, being in the water can be dangerous business. In the Psalm today, the water mentioned is not some gentle, mountain stream or a placid pond. We’re not talking here about a dreamy Hallmark waterfall.

The pounding waves described in Psalm 93 are more akin to the weather bomb affecting the west coast of BC this past week. More like the deadly flood waters that devastated Spanish towns in a few terrifying hours, last month. The violent and deadly Noah’s flood from Genesis (chapter 7) describes this contrasting aspect of water images from the bible.

Getting into the water, we confront our fears. Getting into the water we become vulnerable. We know the dangers that lurk for humans who are not fish. We can even die, submerged under the water too long.

Waters, even baptismal waters, symbolize both peaceful religious experience as well as potential danger. Waters, even baptismal waters, take us out of our comfort zones as much as they bring comfort and joy.

Herein lies the paradox of faith, actually, between life and death. Two apparent extremes can co-exist on the same line at the same time. Both/And. Peaceful waters. Stormy waters. Same place.

The oceans on this planet represent the most mysterious and unknown region yet to be discovered. Its depths have not yet been fully plumbed. It’s a place of fear and danger, of mystery. As much as oceans determine our weather – la Nina or el Nino – and the amount of water we receive and need, they represent a vast unknowing.

What a beautiful metaphor for God. What a profound image for Jesus who invites us on the journey to follow him our whole life long. Baptism is the Christlike means to launch each of us on this journey of faith. Water and the Word combine to enrich our faith and give us hope.

Indeed, we sail over the tempestuous sea of life. Our world is in storm mode – it may be on a personal level but also on national, and definitely global levels. Danger threatens all about. No wonder we are afraid.

And yet, only when the water moves, and the more it moves, the more energy for life it gives. The powerful impact of waves gets us moving! The ocean, after all, is alive with energy: Roiling waves, crashing surf. According to CBC Radio’s The Current, scientists are now trying to harness the power behind those waves. And the impact could be staggering, providing electricity, experts believe, for up to a third of American homes (Galloway, 2024).

As we ride those turbulent seas, Christ is on the ship with us. We may be perplexed facing a great mystery. We may be afraid to move, to change. But Jesus is with us. Jesus is aware, he knows – even when from our perspective he seems to be asleep in the back of the boat (Mark 4: 35-40). With the Psalmist we can declare, “He who keeps watch will neither slumber nor sleep” (Psalm 121:3).

Today the church celebrates the reign of Christ. Christ is king. What does that mean? In the Gospel, Jesus tells Pilate that the kingdom of God is not of this world (John 18:33-37). Who and what Christ Jesus is about doesn’t look like the powers of this world.

The water images from the bible suggest the reign of Christ is not one-dimensional. Jesus is in it all – the rain that nourishes, the surf that pounds, the tsunami that terrifies, the floods that wash it all away, the waters that calm and refresh. The contrasts may befuddle and bewilder us. The journey of faith takes us right into the middle of the ambiguity. Yet, Jesus is right there, with us, giving us energy, giving us life – new life.

Jesus watches us and keeps us, no matter what storms we face, no matter how poor the prognosis is, no matter how uncertain the horizon looks, no matter how badly the waves threaten to wash us overboard. Jesus watches us because he loves us and sees us as we truly are. This is the baptismal promise.

Because even when we are submerged in water, the only way out is up. It is the first thing we do when coming out of the waters. To open our mouths and gasp for air we have no choice but to look upwards, to the hills, to the horizon, to the heavens, to the one who reaches out to us.

Christ will stay on board with us until there are no more seas to sail. Jesus will guide our days and travel with us on the journey until the storm clouds break, the sun’s rays shine through, and we can look up again.

Thanks be to God.

Reference:

Galloway, M. (Host). (2024, November 21). Harnessing the oceans waves [transcript]. In The Current. CBC Radio. https://www.cbc.ca/radio/thecurrent/thursday-november-21-2024-full-transcript-1.7390604