A Crack in the Sky

        When I visited Sudan (now South Sudan) in 2009, one of my privileges was the opportunity to baptize a number of young people in the waters of the Nile River. Another (unexpected) privilege was to preach a sermon with less than a half hour’s preparation. After the baptisms, our group adjourned to a nearby church—a rough shelter with a thatched roof and no walls, where I got to perform a number of child dedications (what Baptists and other evangelicals do in lieu of infant baptism), something I had never had the opportunity to do in my ministerial career to that point. I really didn’t know what I was doing, but it probably didn’t matter because I spoke neither Madi-ti nor Juba Arabic, and most of the people likely couldn’t hear the translators.

        After a pounding rainstorm that made us grateful for the relative protection of the leafy roof, one of the church leaders asked me if I was ready to preach. Confused, I said, “You mean on Sunday? Yes, I’ll be ready,” but he said, “No, right now.” After a few moments of panic, I settled down and considered what I might say. Having just performed about a dozen baptisms, I thought I would stay with that theme. Looking to the heavens for inspiration, I saw a sudden opening in the clouds through which the sun was pouring, and I thought of this passage from Mark 1, where Jesus, as he was coming out of the river, “saw the heavens torn apart and the Spirit descending like a dove on him” (v. 10). It really looked like somebody had torn a hole in the clouds over the village of Kerepi. I was also reminded of Isaiah 64:1, in which the prophet cries out to God, “O that you would tear open the heavens and come down,” and I had my sermon.

        I mention all this because this Sunday we will celebrate Jesus’s baptism, but I also think a lot of us, when we consider the state of the world in which we live, would join the prophet in his longing cry for God to rip open the heavens and step through. (In my understanding of theology, I don’t believe that’s how God works, but that doesn’t necessarily stop me—or any of us—from longing for that kind of dramatic theophany.)

        When Jesus saw the heavens torn open, he saw the Holy Spirit descend through the crack in the form of a dove and alight on him. Whether he was expecting that particular phenomenon Mark doesn’t tell us, but I tend to think it came as a surprise to him. Likewise the heavenly voice that said, “You are my Son, the Beloved; with you I am well pleased” (v. 11). This vision and message were what Jesus needed to hear in that moment as he began his public ministry, especially as he was about to be sent into the wilderness to face forty days of testing. The assurance of the Spirit’s presence and his identity as God’s beloved would provide him a lifeline during the darkest nights of his soul.

        What message do you need to hear from the heavenly voice today? What would you ask of God if God did step through that crack in the sky? What is your lifeline during these dark days? I invite you to close your eyes right now and listen for the message God has for you. In the silence hear the voice from heaven say, “You are my beloved child, and with you I am well pleased.”