Let’s begin with the account of Jesus’ baptism. Picture it. Jesus stands knee-deep in the Jordan River. The water is cold. It ripples around His ankles. Suddenly, the heavens open. The Spirit descends like a dove. A voice echoes: “This is my beloved Son, in whom I am well pleased.”
All four Gospels tell us about Jesus’ baptism. Think about that. Out of everything in Jesus’ life, only two events make it into all four Gospels. His baptism by John. His death on the cross.
Mark and John do not give us a manger-side birth, skipping over the nativity altogether. No shepherds. No manger. No angels singing “Glory to God.” Mark omits an Easter morning encounter at the tomb. All four Gospels make sure to tell us about Jesus stepping into the muddy waters of the Jordan.
What’s striking is who Jesus is standing next to in that river. He’s not with the pious. He’s not with the holy elite. He is surrounded by hypocrites, tax collectors who collude with the empire, thieves, and sinners. John the Baptist bluntly calls them a brood of vipers.[i] These are the folks Jesus chooses to identify with. These are the ones with whom He aligns Himself in His first public act.
When it comes to baptism, don’t let the sprinkling fool you. What we do with water isn’t just some quaint tradition. It isn’t a photo op. It isn’t a sentimental gesture. It is nothing short of outrageous.
It is outrageous because, in baptism, God declares who we are. Beloved children and joined with Christ in His death and resurrection. None of it, not a drop of water, is based on what we’ve earned. None of it is based on what we deserve. God’s reconciliation doesn’t fit into our neat ideas of fairness. It is all grace. Pure. Unearned. Freely given.
Baptism reminds us that this life of faith isn’t about proving ourselves. It isn’t about striving to measure up. It is about receiving the gift of an identity we could never claim on our own. You are God’s beloved.
On that day, Jesus’ identity wasn’t just affirmed. It was revealed in a powerful way. Everything about who He is. Everything He came to do. All rooted in whose He was. God’s beloved Son.
For us, this might feel enviable. How often do we struggle with questions of identity? Who am I? What am I meant to do with my life? These questions aren’t limited to our teenage years. They aren’t limited to early adulthood.
Think back to when you were in high school and heading out the door to meet your friends or go on a date. Did one of your parents yell out something like, “Don’t forget who you are.” At the time, it felt like just another parental one-liner but I have come to realize it was a reminder to stay rooted. Not just in my name. Rooted in my belonging.
I grew up in the church. I was baptized before my belly button had even healed. My family’s routines were deeply rooted in the life of the church. Sunday mornings. Potlucks. Choir practice. Youth group. You name it. We were there. Even with a life so immersed in the rhythms of faith, I still needed that reminder.
Even when you grow up surrounded by the faith, there are moments when you forget. Moments when the world’s competing voices seem louder than the still, small voice of God. My mom’s words—“Don’t forget who you are”—weren’t just about being a Hardy. They weren’t about living up to family expectations. They were about staying connected to a deeper truth. I belong to God.
In today’s world, it’s so easy to forget who we are. Or worse, to forget whose we are. Amidst Instagram filters, LinkedIn profiles, or TikTok trends, we can lose ourselves in the noise. We’re pulled in so many directions. We’re tempted to answer to false names and identities.
The world offers plenty of answers to the question, “Who am I?”
“You’re a consumer,” the ads say. “What matters is what you buy. Your car. Your clothes. Your phone. Your value is in your spending power.”
Or: “You’re your job,” whispers the career ladder. “Your worth is tied to your title. Your promotion. Your success.”
Then there’s the mantra of “self-made” culture. “You’re whoever you decide to be. Hustle harder. Grind longer. Bootstraps. No one’s going to care for you but you.”
Here’s the truth: Discovering who we are begins and ends with discovering whose we are.
The Church gives us a different answer to the question, “Who am I?” It says simply. “You are baptized.”
Baptism reveals not only who we are. It reveals whose we are. Beloved children of God.
When we baptize someone, we ask. “What name shall be given to this child?” That name is important. It reminds us that identity is a gift. Even more significant is the name given to each of us in baptism. Child of God.
At baptism, we are claimed by God. That claim is permanent. It is unshakable. It is rooted in love. You may not have realized it when the waters hit your head (Most of us don’t) but throughout a lifetime of faith, we come to understand this truth.
This realization. This epiphany. It is a gift of God. Over time, God reveals to us who we are. God does this by first reminding us whose we are.
Much of who we are comes as a gift from others. Our families. Our teachers. Our mentors. Baptism reminds us that our truest identity is a gift from God. It is not something we earn. It is not something we achieve. It is given freely. It is rooted in grace.
In ancient baptismal rites, the newly baptized were given a candle. It symbolized the light of Christ. It was a way of saying. “You are the light of the world because you belong to God. Your life is meant to reflect God’s love.”
Baptism tells us that we are claimed. In some traditions, the sign of the cross is made on the forehead during baptism. A mark that says, “You belong to Christ.” I do this when I baptize an infant. For older children or adults, they are gifted a cross necklace. A reminder that they have been claimed.
The great reformer, Martin Luther, when overwhelmed with doubt or despair, would touch his forehead. He would say to himself, “I am baptized.” For Luther, that was enough. He knew that baptism wasn’t just about who he was. It was about whose he was.
It is a powerful reminder in a culture that places so much emphasis on feelings. It is a powerful reminder in a culture that emphasizes achievements. Some days, we don’t feel like Christians. Some days, our faith feels shaky. Some days, we mess up. We don’t always act like followers of Christ.
The good news is this: Our identity as God’s beloved children doesn’t rest on our feelings. It doesn’t rest on our intellect. It doesn’t rest on our behavior. It rests on what God has done for us. Baptism declares, “You didn’t choose me. I chose you.”
This is why the Church baptizes babies. It proclaims that God’s love comes to us before we can even respond. We are always dependent on God’s grace.
Remembering our baptism is like hearing a forgotten song from our childhood. It stirs something deep within us. It reminds us of who we truly are. It is also an invitation to discover, over time, whose we are. God’s beloved.
Jesus tells the story of the prodigal son. The son lost himself in a far-off land. One day, he “came to himself.” He remembered. “I am my father’s child. I have a home.” That memory was enough to bring him back. And when he returned home he father ran to him.
On days like today, we gather as a Church to remind one another of who we are. We remember whose we are. We come to the font as we come to the table, empty-handed. We remember that we are named. We are claimed by God.
Today, touch the water. Touch your forehead. Remember your baptism. Be thankful.
Who you are? Beloved. It flows from whose you are. God’s.
[i] Luke 3:7
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