The Waters that Claim Us
- Rev Robert Moses
- Jun 21
- 5 min read
Lessons, Proper 7A: Genesis 21:8-21; Psalm 86:1-10, 16-17; Romans 6:1b-11; and, Matthew 10:24-39.
Beloved in Christ, today Paul invites us to remember something the early church never forgot: baptism is not a symbolic gesture or a spiritual nicety. It is a transfer of allegiance, a crossing of borders, a liberation from one dominion into another. In Romans 6, Paul speaks as though Sin is not merely a behavior but a ruler—a tyrant who claims territory and subjects. And into that world, God acts decisively. As Katherine Grieb notes, baptism was understood as the moment when God “ended the claims of one ruler” and placed the baptized into the realm of another. In baptism, we are taken out of the territory of Sin and placed in the territory of grace, under the lordship of Jesus Christ.
This is not abstract theology, but rather the deepest truth about who we are. It is the foundation of our belovedness and our belonging. It is the story of how God names us, claims us, and frees us.
LEAVING ONE TERRITORY FOR ANOTHER
Paul’s language is dramatic because the stakes are dramatic. Sin, for Paul, is not a list of infractions. It is a power that enslaves, diminishes, and dehumanizes. It whispers that we are alone, unworthy, unlovable. It convinces us that our failures define us, that our wounds are our identity, that our shame is our destiny. Sin is the voice that tells us we do not belong.
But baptism is God’s refusal to let that voice have the last word. Paul says we are “buried with Christ by baptism into death,” not because God delights in death, but because God refuses to leave us in bondage. The waters of baptism are the Red Sea all over again—waters that drown the old oppressor and open a path into freedom. They are the Jordan River all over again—waters that mark the crossing into a new homeland. They are the waters of creation—waters out of which God brings forth new life.
In baptism, God takes us by the hand and leads us out of the territory of Sin and into the territory of grace. We are no longer subjects of fear. We are citizens of Christ’s kingdom. We are members of a new family.
BELOVEDNESS AS IDENTITY
And what is the first word spoken in this new territory? Beloved. Before Jesus does anything—before he teaches, heals, or calls disciples—he goes down into the waters of baptism. And the heavens open. And the voice speaks. “You are my Son, the Beloved; with you I am well pleased.” That is the template for every Christian baptism. The voice that speaks over Jesus speaks over us. Not because we have earned it. Not because we have proven ourselves. But because God has chosen to love us with a love that cannot be undone. Belovedness is not a reward. It is an identity.
And belonging flows from that identity. When God names us beloved, God also places us in a community where that belovedness is meant to be recognized, nurtured, and lived out. Baptism is not a private spiritual moment. It is incorporation into a people—a people who walk in newness of life, who practice the ethical life appropriate to membership in the family of Jesus Christ.
And on this Father’s Day, we give thanks for all who embody that baptismal calling in the work of fathering—biological fathers, adoptive and foster fathers, step‑fathers, grandfathers, godfathers, queer and trans fathers, mentors, teachers, and all who offer strength, tenderness, protection, and presence. Their love, at its best, reflects the One who calls us beloved and welcomes us into a family where no one is left outside.
WALKING IN NEWNESS OF LIFE
Paul says we are raised with Christ “so that we too might walk in newness of life.” That walking is not about moral perfection. It is about living as people who know where we belong and whose we are.
To walk in newness of life is to refuse the old scripts of shame and fear. It is to reject the lie that we are defined by our failures. It is to live as people who have been transferred into the territory of grace. In that territory, we do not earn God’s love—we respond to it. In that territory, we do not strive to belong—we discover that we already do. In that territory, we do not fear death—for we have already died with Christ, and our life is hidden with him in God.
This is why Paul can speak so boldly. He is not calling us to try harder. He is calling us to remember who we are. He is calling us to live from our baptism, not toward it.
THE FAMILY WE BECOME
And this matters not only for our individual lives but for our life together as the Church. If baptism is the act by which God brings us into the family of Jesus Christ, then the Church is meant to be the visible sign of that family—a community where belovedness is practiced, where belonging is embodied, where grace is not an idea but a lived reality. This means the Church must be a place where people can bring their whole selves—their wounds, their questions, their hopes, their identities—and know they will not be turned away. It means the Church must be a place where the dignity of every person is honored, because every person has passed through the same waters and emerged marked as Christ’s own forever.
It means the Church must be a place where we remind one another, again and again, that Sin no longer has jurisdiction here. Fear does not rule here. Shame does not rule here. Exclusion does not rule here. Hate has no home here! Christ rules here—and Christ’s rule is mercy, compassion, justice, and joy.
So what does it look like to live as people who belong to Christ?
It looks like refusing to let the world’s categories define us or divide us.
It looks like standing with those who have been told they do not belong and saying, “You are beloved. You belong. No exceptions.”
It looks like practicing forgiveness—not because we are perfect, but because we are free.
It looks like courage in the face of fear, generosity in the face of scarcity, hope in the face of despair.
It looks like remembering, every day, that we have crossed the border from death to life, from Sin to grace, from isolation to communion.
THE WATERS STILL SPEAK
Beloved, the waters of baptism still speak. They speak over every child brought to the font. They speak over every adult who comes seeking a new beginning. They speak over every one of us when we forget who we are.
They say: You are beloved. You belong. You are free. You are Christ’s. You are home.
May we walk in that newness of life. May we live as citizens of grace. May we be a community where belovedness is not only proclaimed but practiced. And may the world, looking at us, see people who know where they belong—and who invite others into that same liberating, life‑giving territory of God’s love.
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