Rev. Dr. Brandon S. Perrine
Baptism of Christ A
Matthew 3:13-17
January 11, 2026
Then Jesus came from Galilee to John at the Jordan, to be baptized by him. John would have prevented him, saying, “I need to be baptized by you, and do you come to me?” But Jesus answered him, “Let it be so now; for it is proper for us in this way to fulfill all righteousness.” Then he consented. And when Jesus had been baptized, just as he came up from the water, suddenly the heavens were opened to him and he saw the Spirit of God descending like a dove and alighting on him. And a voice from heaven said, “This is my Son, the Beloved, with whom I am well pleased.”
~o~
It’s been said that “the speed at which children grow up defies the laws of time.” In Jesus’ case, that’s especially true! It seems like only last week that he was still a baby, receiving a tribute of gold, frankincense, and myrrh from the Wise Ones. Now he’s a fully-grown man of about 30!
I’ve been asked on more than one occasion about the intervening years— about what happened between Jesus’ birth and his baptism. The gospels offer scarcely any details. Matthew tells us that Jesus’ family was forced to flee to Egypt for a time to avoid the wrath of evil King Herod. Luke’s gospel tells us that when he was about 12, Jesus’ parents forgot him in Jerusalem and found him a couple days later teaching in the temple. And that’s all the details the gospels have to offer about Jesus the baby, toddler, child, youth, and young adult.
That silence apparently didn’t sit well with early audiences, who clamored for more details about Jesus’ life. Noncanonical sources fill in the gaps with stories of his bizarre childhood and youth. We hear that Jesus made sparrows from clay and brought them to life. That he got angry with a couple of his playmates and struck them dead—only to resurrect them later. That he terrorized his school teachers with curses and allegories. That he resurrected a little boy who had fallen from a roof and healed a man who’d died in a wood-chopping accident. That he miraculously fetched water for his mother in a cloth cape, helped his father in the fields, and even stretched a piece of wood for a bed Joseph was building so that it would fit. That he saved his brother James from a terrible snakebite, brought a dead infant back to life, and was befriended by lions and panthers.
These strange stories are recorded in the infancy gospels of Matthew and Thomas, and some of them even appear in the Qur’an.
They paint an interesting picture of a child who knew he was special but was ruled, as most children are, by his emotions. He used his powers to settle scores, to confound his teachers, to help his parents, and to restore life to the dead—some of whom he had actually killed. This Jesus knew he was special and used his considerable gifts freely—if not always carefully.
But this picture of Jesus conflicts with the one we get in the canonical gospels in an important way. Unlike the child who knew he was special and used his powers, the gospels present a Jesus who seems to have lived a remarkably ordinary life until his baptism by John. The baptism is where Jesus finally becomes interesting—at least from the perspective of the gospel writers. It marks the beginning of his public ministry, not the continuation of some long-running spectacle.
And it is at this moment—after Jesus takes that first step—that we hear the voice of God for the first time in Matthew’s gospel: “This is my Son, the Beloved, with whom I am well pleased.”
Now, to be clear, we don’t really know what those first thirty years were like. The gospels are mostly silent about them—and that silence invites our imagination. But what the gospel does tell us is that this is the moment when everything changes. This is when Jesus steps into his calling in a public way.
His “second step” will lead him from the baptismal waters of the Jordan into a forty-day wilderness encounter with the devil, and then into his ministry of teaching, healing, and challenging injustice. But it all starts here—with the first step.
Jesus was about thirty when he took that step—or at least, this is the moment the gospels remember as the beginning of his public journey. And it makes me wonder if he wrestled with it for a while before doing so. Whether it took him years or whether this was simply the moment he chose, the story invites us to imagine what it means to finally say yes to a calling.
My guess is that we can all relate. How many of us have ever determined to go a new direction, take a risk, or make a change—only to stall before we take that first step?
When I was in seminary and later serving on the Division of Church and Ministry in Wisconsin, I regularly heard stories of ministry candidates who were finally responding to a sense of call they’d felt for decades. I’ve talked with countless people who’ve recognized the need for a life change, a relationship change, a job change, or greater self-care—but feel stuck. They know where they need to go. They even know how to get there. They just can’t seem to take the first step.
As we look to a new year ahead of us, this is an ideal time to ask ourselves: What new direction, what risk, what change might we be avoiding because we haven’t been able to take that first step?
And this is where Jesus’ baptism speaks directly to us. His baptism isn’t just about him. It’s about solidarity. Jesus steps into the same waters as everyone else. He doesn’t stand apart. He joins the crowd. And in doing so, he reminds us that baptism is not about perfection—it’s about belonging. It’s about beginning again. It’s about saying yes to the path of love, justice, and transformation.
For many of us, our baptism may have happened long ago. But this story invites us to remember it—not as something finished, but as something ongoing. Baptism is not just a moment in the past; it’s a lifelong journey. A continual choosing. A series of first steps.
And when Jesus finally takes that step, the divine response is not one of judgment, but one of affirmation: “This is my Son, the Beloved, with whom I am well pleased.”
The first step is always the hardest. But the second, and third, and fourth steps get easier. As the Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. once said, “Faith is taking the first step even when you don’t see the whole staircase.”
Whether it’s dismantling racism, fighting climate change, losing weight, starting a business, finding a new home, answering a call to ministry, or even climbing Mount Everest—it all starts the same way: with the first step.
If you’ve been waiting to take that step, remember: this story tells us that beginnings matter. And the Holy meets us not at the finish line, but right at the starting line.
Today is a good day to take that first step.
May it be so. Amen.
