Baptism of the Lord Sunday

Message: Beloved Before You Begin

Scripture: Isaiah 43:1–3a; Galatians 4:4–7 (NRSVUE)

Good morning, church.

Today is Baptism of the Lord Sunday, so we begin where the story begins: at the water.

Jesus steps into the Jordan River. He doesn’t come with a résumé. He doesn’t come to prove anything. He simply steps in—quietly, willingly—and as he comes up, the heavens open. The Spirit descends like a dove. And the Father speaks over him:

“You are my Son, the Beloved; with you I am well pleased.”

That voice comes before Jesus’ public ministry. Before the sermons, before the miracles, before the crowds, before the cross. In other words, the first thing Jesus receives is not an assignment. It is a name. A center. A home.

Beloved.

And that is the message for today:

Love gives identity before effort.

Not because effort doesn’t matter. Faithfulness matters. Obedience matters. Growth matters. But the gospel keeps the order clear: we do not work our way into God’s love. We live from the love God gives first.

That’s what our two readings do today. Isaiah 43 and Galatians 4 stand beside the Jordan and say, “Yes—this is how God has always been.”

1) Isaiah: God starts with a claim, not a command

Isaiah 43 is spoken to people who are not feeling strong. They’re scared. They’re pressed down. They’re living with uncertainty. And God does not begin with a checklist.

God begins with a claim.

In NRSVUE, God says:
“Do not fear, for I have redeemed you; I have called you by name, you are mine.”

That is identity language. Covenant language. Family language.

God is saying, “Your life is not random. You are not disposable. You are not forgotten. I know your name, and you belong to me.”

And then God says something honest:

“When you pass through the waters, I will be with you.”

Not if. When.
God does not deny that the waters come—hard seasons, grief, illness, anxiety, pressure, disappointment. The Bible is not pretending life is easy. It is telling you what’s deeper than the waters: God’s presence.

Love in Scripture does not always remove the flood. Love says, “You won’t go through it alone.”

And God grounds it in who God is:

“For I am the LORD your God… your Savior.”

So Isaiah gives us a sturdy foundation:

Before you fix anything, before you prove anything, before you figure out the next step, God says: “You are mine. I am with you.”

Love gives identity before effort.

2) Galatians: God doesn’t just rescue you—God adopts you

Galatians 4 takes that belonging and moves it into the heart of the gospel.

Paul says, “When the fullness of time had come, God sent his Son…” and then he tells us why: “so that we might receive adoption as children.”

That word—adoption—changes everything.

It means you don’t just get forgiveness. You get belonging.
You don’t just get a second chance. You get a family.
You don’t just get your record cleared. You get a new identity.

And Paul makes it personal:

“Because you are children, God has sent the Spirit of his Son into our hearts, crying, ‘Abba! Father!’”

That is close language. Family language. It’s the Spirit teaching your heart how to live like you belong. This isn’t just a legal statement on paper. God doesn’t only change your status; God sends the Spirit into your heart so adoption becomes real—something you can pray from, breathe from, live from.

And then Paul ends with a sentence meant to set people free:

“So you are no longer a slave but a child…”

A slave lives under pressure: “Do enough. Prove yourself. Don’t mess up.”
A child is still learning, still growing, still imperfect—but a child lives from a deeper place: “I belong. I can come home. I don’t have to earn my place at the table.”

So Isaiah says, “You are mine.”
Galatians says, “You are my child.”

That is the gospel order: belonging first.

3) Wesley: grace comes before, and identity is received

As Methodists, this is where John Wesley helps us speak clearly.

Wesley taught that grace goes before—before you understand, before you improve, before you can even name what you need. God is already moving toward you. God is already inviting. God is already working.

So the gospel order is not:
“Do better, and then you’ll belong.”

The gospel order is:
“You belong. Now learn to live from that.”

Wesley also spoke about assurance—the witness of the Spirit. Not a constant emotional high, not denial of doubt, but a deep, steady truth the Spirit presses into us: “I am God’s child. I am not outside. I am not on probation.”

That’s exactly what Paul is describing: the Spirit crying “Abba” in our hearts. It’s God making adoption real in us.

So on Baptism Sunday, we hear this again:

At the water, Jesus is named beloved before he begins.
In Isaiah, we are called by name before we pass through the waters.
In Galatians, we are adopted before we can prove anything.
And in Wesley’s language, grace goes before we go.

Love gives identity before effort.

4) Why this matters: because we get “renamed” all week

Let’s make this plain.

A lot of our exhaustion isn’t just from doing too much. It’s from trying to hold an identity together.

Some weeks, you feel okay because you’re keeping up. Then one mistake, one conflict, one disappointment shakes you more than it should—not because it’s small, but because it feels like a verdict. Like it says something about who you really are.

Some weeks, you feel valuable when you’re needed. When you’re useful. When you’re carrying. And then when you’re tired, or you can’t help, or you feel unseen, you wonder if you still matter.

Some weeks, shame tries to name you by your worst moment. Fear tries to name you by what you can’t control. Pressure tries to name you by what you haven’t finished yet.

That’s what happens when identity is built on fragile things. You can’t rest. You can’t be honest. You can’t breathe deeply.

So Baptism Sunday is God’s interruption.

At the Jordan, God speaks before anyone can measure Jesus. God names Jesus before anyone can judge him. And that name becomes the center Jesus lives from.

And here’s the good news: Jesus doesn’t keep that name to himself. Jesus is the beloved Son who brings us into that beloved life. In Christ, we belong. We’re not just copying Jesus from a distance—we’re joined to him. And because we belong to him, what God speaks over him becomes the truth that holds us too.

That’s why Isaiah can say, “I have called you by name; you are mine.”
And Paul can say, “You are no longer a slave but a child.”

This is not shallow comfort. It’s the gospel. It’s a new foundation.

And it changes how we live:

• You can repent without panic, because you’re not terrified of being discarded.

• You can admit weakness without shame taking over.

• You can grow without turning faith into performance.

• You can serve without needing applause.

• You can rest without guilt.

Not because life becomes easy, but because love becomes your ground.

And Isaiah is honest: “When you pass through the waters…” The waters still come. But beloved identity means the waters don’t get to name you.

Belonging doesn’t erase struggle. Belonging anchors you in it.

5) Baptism says: you belong before you contribute

Let me say this clearly: baptism is not a merit badge.

Baptism is not God saying, “Congratulations, you made it.”
Baptism is God saying, “You belong.”

That’s why water is such a powerful sign. Water is not a trophy. Water is grace you can see. It tells the truth about God: God welcomes first. God claims first. God names first.

And then yes—our life responds. We learn. We follow. We grow. We serve.

But we respond as people who already belong.

That order is the difference between fear-based religion and gospel freedom.

6) A practice that fits Baptism Sunday

Now, if we leave this as a beautiful idea, it can fade quickly. So we’re practicing one simple thing that matches today’s Scriptures.

Speak a blessing over one person by name.

Why this practice? Because it echoes what God does.

In Isaiah, God calls by name and claims.
In Galatians, God adopts and sends the Spirit into hearts.
At Jesus’ baptism, God speaks belovedness over him before the work begins.

So this week, we echo that pattern—humbly, simply.

Choose one person. Just one.

Someone who is tired. Someone carrying more than they say. Someone who feels unseen. Someone you might usually try to fix—this week, don’t fix. Bless.

Say their name, and speak a blessing.

Keep it simple:

“God bless you today.”
“I’m praying for you.”
“May peace meet you right where you are.”
“You are loved. You are not alone.”

Or if you want one ready-made line:

“God of love, bless you by name. Let you know you are held. Give you peace for today and strength for one next step.”

That’s not magic. It’s not control. It’s simply letting God’s way of speaking become our way of speaking—words that give life instead of pressure.

And here’s what I believe will happen: when you bless someone else, you will feel your own need for God’s voice again. That’s not failure. That’s discipleship. We bless out of what we are receiving.

Wesley would call this a means of grace—not a chore to earn love, but a practice that opens you to love and trains you to live from it.

7) The gospel in one sentence

So here’s the whole message in one sentence:

At the water, God calls us by name, claims us as God’s own, and receives us as children. Love gives identity before effort.

Church, you are not a slave trying to earn a place.

You are called by name.
You are held in love.
You belong to God.
You are God’s child.

So go into this week with a quieter heart—not because the waters won’t come, but because God will be with you when they do.

And let one small act carry this whole message into real life: bless one person by name.

Amen.