"more clouds." by kaija, on Flickr

Genesis 1:1–5
In the beginning when God created the heavens and the earth, the earth was a formless void and darkness covered the face of the deep, while a wind from God swept over the face of the waters. Then God said, "Let there be light"; and there was light. And God saw that the light was good; and God separated the light from the darkness. God called the light Day, and the darkness he called Night. And there was evening and there was morning, the first day.

Mark 1:4–11
John the baptizer appeared in the wilderness, proclaiming a baptism of repentance for the forgiveness of sins. And people from the whole Judean countryside and all the people of Jerusalem were going out to him, and were baptized by him in the river Jordan, confessing their sins. Now John was clothed with camel's hair, with a leather belt around his waist, and he ate locusts and wild honey. He proclaimed, "The one who is more powerful than I is coming after me; I am not worthy to stoop down and untie the thong of his sandals. I have baptized you with water; but he will baptize you with the Holy Spirit."

In those days Jesus came from Nazareth of Galilee and was baptized by John in the Jordan. And just as he was coming up out of the water, he saw the heavens torn apart and the Spirit descending like a dove on him. And a voice came from heaven, "You are my Son, the Beloved; with you I am well pleased."
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More than ever, it feels like our world is tearing apart at the seams.

In France, a nation rends its garments in grief over this week's shootings. In Nigeria, the border town of Baga has been ripped apart by a devastating attack by Boko Haram which has left as many as 2000 people dead, many of them women, children, and the elderly. In Pakistan, an ordinary day has been torn apart by a suicide bomber killing innocent victims outside a mosque.

Often our Christian theology centers on beautiful things like the kindness and compassion of God. We talk about God in terms of forgiveness, grace, and mercy.

But when the powers of death and destruction in our world seem so prevalent and insurmountable, we are lucky that our story of faith also includes images of God's strength and power, especially over darkness and despair. In heart-rending times like these, we need to have the confidence that God has the power to overcome all these heart-breaking things. We need be able to say to the forces that tear apart our world that our God has power to tear apart the very powers of sin and death and destruction.

In the Old Testament, we see example after example of the power of God which accompanies the Israelites through slavery, in the wilderness, and even in battle. In her Magnificat, Mary sings about a God who scatters the proud with the power of his arm. And at his baptism, Jesus reveals the power of God to break open the very heavens themselves.

Jesus comes to the river to be baptized from John. He plunges into the water, breaking its surface both at his descent and at his emerging. In response, the heavens themselves break apart. God in his power splits open the sky, from which the Spirit pours down upon Jesus and into him, affirming him as beloved Son of God, empowering him to begin a life of public ministry, and setting him at the start of a journey that will eventually take him to the cross. It will be by this cross that the world itself will crack open.

Mark, at the end of his gospel, will talk about the temple curtain being torn in two at the moment of Jesus' death, symbolizing the destruction of the boundary separating God and humans. He uses the same verb to talk about the heavens rending open at Jesus' baptism and the curtain rending in two at Jesus' death to make the point that the power of God does not stand idly by, is not subtle. The power of God as creator and redeemer crashes through barriers and smashes into the world with urgency.

From the very beginning of all things, we hear in Genesis of a God who rips apart chaos itself into little pieces and reorganizes them into the poetry of creation. This same God rips apart the waters of the Red Sea to create a clear path for the Israelites to escape their Egyptian slavery. When God's chosen people are suffering in exile, the prophet Isaiah does not pray for the meek compassion of God to sneak in and calm their grieving hearts. No, Isaiah says, "Oh that you would tear open the heavens and come down so that the mountains would quake at your presence, so that the nations might tremble at your presence!" And then, in Revelation, when we imagine a cosmic battle between good and evil where God in Christ ultimately triumphs over all the powers of sin and death, we hear again of the heavens opening up and God breaking in: "Then I saw the new heaven and the new earth, and I saw the new Jerusalem, coming down out of heaven from God."

In our current age, as in all ages before us, we need God to tear apart the heaven and come down. We need to pray this again and again and again. Because unlike the senseless, destructive powers that try to tear apart our world, our God breaks things open in order to fill up the world with his presence, to flood all things with mercy, to pour into our world and our hearts the full measure of his goodness, life, and salvation.

This is what we learn from Jesus’ baptism. God is strong enough to tear open the heavens, and God is gracious enough to break open our hardened hearts, and God destroys evil and death by drowning them in love and grace and hope.

We use lots of images to talk about baptism. We talk about it as a washing or cleansing. We talk about it as dying and rising with Christ. We talk about being clothed in baptism - an image that we recall at funerals as we clothe the casket in the pall at the beginning of the service. We talk about how baptism gives us gifts of the Holy Spirit.

But when do we ever talk about baptism as a rending apart?

When we reject sin, death, and the devil in baptism, we are professing faith in a God who tears us away from the darkest forces in all creation. When we pour that water over our heads, we are trusting God to crack open our hearts and come rushing into us. When we anoint with oil and speak the words, “Child of God, you have been sealed by the Holy Spirit and marked with the cross of Christ forever,” we are breaking apart old identities to make room for God’s claim on us as his beloved.

The author Joanna Macy writes, “The heart that breaks open can contain the whole universe.” This, brothers and sisters, is what baptism is all about.

By these crushing waters of baptism, we are broken in order that we might be filled with the power of God's salvation. And by this power we get pushed out into the world to resist darkness and create salvation for all our broken world.

In these baptismal waters we ride along on a current, where God acts and God acts in us, and we act in God, and we tumble all over one another and spill out over the edges, and it all sounds very messy, but it turns out that it is actually very beautiful.

For we have a God who tears into the world not for sport but for salvation.

And there is no better, warmer, brighter news for our broken world and our broken hearts than to hear God say to us, "You are my children. You are beloved. In you I am well-pleased." Yes, the fullness of God-in-Christ is pleased - pleased - to dwell in you and to make a home among us.

Oh, that you would continue to tear open the heavens, Lord God.
Oh, that you would continue to rend our hearts, Lord God.
Fill this longing world with your power and mercy.
Pour out your Spirit upon us and move over the face of the earth.
Burst through the skies and come to us, again and again, that we might know ever more deeply what it is to be yours. To be your broken and beloved. To be your children.

Amen.