Today’s service is led by the Revd Dr John McNeil Scott
Introduction
Good morning, good afternoon and Happy New Year! My name is John McNeil Scott and I serve the United Reformed Church in my work as Principal of the Scottish College. Our college is based in Glasgow and seeks to help the church through the learning we provide and promote. Together we form ministers, worship leaders, elder and members for service to God in the church and beyond. Thank you for this opportunity of sharing worship with you.
Call to Worship
Here, in the depths of winter, just eleven days into a new year, we gather seeking light. Here, in these dark January days, when Christmas joy seems already distant, we remember a moment by the river. The heavens opened. The Spirit descended. A voice spoke: “This is my beloved.” We gather to worship the God who breaks through, who speaks into darkness, who begins something new. Let us worship God together.
Hymn Great is Thy Faithfulness
Thomas O Chisholm (1866-1960) © 1923, renewal 1951 Hope Publishing One Licence No. # A-734713
Great is thy faithfulness, O God my Father,
there is no shadow of turning with thee;
thou changest not, thy compassions they fail not,
as thou hast been thou for ever wilt be.
Great is thy faithfulness! Great is thy faithfulness!
Morning by morning new mercies I see;
all I have needed thy hand hath provided –
great is thy faithfulness, Lord unto me!
Summer and winter, and spring-time and harvest,
sun, moon and stars in their courses above,
join with all nature in manifold witness
to thy great faithfulness, mercy and love.
Great is thy faithfulness! Great is thy faithfulness!
Morning by morning new mercies I see;
all I have needed thy hand hath provided –
great is thy faithfulness, Lord unto me!
Pardon for sin and a peace that endureth,
thine own dear presence to cheer and to guide;
strength for today and bright hope for tomorrow,
blessings all mine, with ten thousand beside!
Great is thy faithfulness! Great is thy faithfulness!
Morning by morning new mercies I see;
all I have needed thy hand hath provided –
great is thy faithfulness, Lord unto me!
Prayers of Approach and Confession
God of new beginnings,
we come to you in these still early days of a new year,
seeking direction, hoping for renewal, resolved to new beginnings.
The lights have come down, the celebrations have ended,
and we find ourselves in winter’s darkness,
wondering what this year will bring.
We remember Jesus at the Jordan: the water cold, the sky opening,
your Spirit descending like a gentle dove,
your voice declaring love and purpose.
We remember that Jesus’ ministry began –
not with fanfare and angels, but with water and waiting,
with obedience and courage, with the beginning of a journey.
God of the journey, we confess that we often prefer certainty to seeking,
answers to questions, arrival to pilgrimage faithfulness.
We confess that we have not always been gentle.
We have not always been patient,
We have not always been persevering when we should be,
and have not always ceased when it was the right thing.
We have not stood with other lives
when they wavered in the wind of struggle.
Our pocketed hands resting,
not lending our strength to those barely holding on.
We confess that we have wanted to know ends from beginnings,
to have everything settled, when you call us to walk by faith,
to say with Jesus, “Let it be so for now,” and to trust the unfolding path.
Forgive us, God of Jordan water.
Meet us in this season of darkness and cold.
Speak your word of love over our lives.
Help us to begin again.
Through Christ, who shows us the way.
Amen.
Declaration of Forgiveness
Hear the good news: God says, “I have called you; I have taken you by the hand.” In these dark days, God’s light shines. In this new year, God makes all things new. In Christ, we are forgiven and freed to begin again. Thanks be to God! Amen.
Hymn Breathe on Me, Breath of God
Edwin Hatch (1835-89) Puiblic Domain Sung at St Lawrence Church, Chorley, and used with their kind permission.
Breathe on me, Breath of God
fill me with life anew,
that I may love what thou dost love,
and do what thou wouldst do.
Breathe on me, Breath of God,
until my heart is pure;
until with thee I will one will,
to do and to endure.
Breathe on me, Breath of God,
till I am wholly thine;
until this earthly part of me
glows with thy fire divine.
Breathe on me, Breath of God:
so shall I never die,
but live with thee the perfect life
of thine eternity.
Prayer for Illumination
Living God,
as your Spirit descended at the Jordan,
descend upon us now.
Open our ears to hear your word,
open our hearts to receive your truth,
open our lives to the journey ahead.
Speak to us through these ancient words,
and help us to recognise your voice today.
Through Christ, our guide and companion.
Amen.
Reading Isaiah 42:1-9
Here is my servant, whom I uphold, my chosen, in whom my soul delights; I have put my spirit upon him; he will bring forth justice to the nations. He will not cry out or lift up his voice or make it heard in the street; a bruised reed he will not break, and a dimly burning wick he will not quench; he will faithfully bring forth justice. He will not grow faint or be crushed until he has established justice in the earth, and the coastlands wait for his teaching. Thus says God, the LORD, who created the heavens and stretched them out, who spread out the earth and what comes from it, who gives breath to the people upon it and spirit to those who walk in it: I am the LORD; I have called you in righteousness; I have taken you by the hand and kept you; I have given you as a covenant to the people, a light to the nations, to open the eyes that are blind, to bring out the prisoners from the dungeon, from the prison those who sit in darkness. I am the LORD; that is my name; my glory I give to no other, nor my praise to idols. See, the former things have come to pass, and new things I now declare; before they spring forth, I tell you of them.
Hymn Be thou my Vision
Rob tu mo bhoile, a Comdi cride, Anonymous Irish translated by Eleanor H Hull (1860-1935) Public Domain, BBC Songs of Praise
Be thou my vision, O god of my heart;
Naught be all else to me, save that thou art;
Thou my best thought, by day or by night,
Waking or sleeping, thy presence my light.
Be thou my wisdom and thou my true word,
Be thou ever with me and I with thee, Lord;
Be thou my great Father and I thy true child
Be thou in me dwelling and I with Thee one.
Be thou my breastplate, my sword for the fight
Be thou my whole armour, be thou my true might,
Be Thou my soul’s shelter, be thou my strong tower,
O raise thou me heavenward, O Power of my power.
High King of heaven, thou heaven’s bright Sun,
O grant me it’s joys after victory is won;
Great Heart of my own heart, whatever befall,
Still be thou my vision, O Ruler of all.
Reading St Matthew 3:13-17
Then Jesus came from Galilee to John at the Jordan, to be baptized by him. John would have prevented him, saying, “I need to be baptized by you, and do you come to me?” But Jesus answered him, “Let it be so for now, for it is proper for us in this way to fulfil all righteousness.” Then he consented. And when Jesus had been baptized, just as he came up from the water, suddenly the heavens were opened to him and he saw God’s Spirit descending like a dove and alighting on him. And a voice from the heavens said, “This is my Son, the Beloved, with whom I am well pleased.”
Sermon
Let It Be So For Now
We’re eleven days into a new year. The Christmas decorations are packed away. The festive glow has faded, and we find ourselves in the heart of winter—cold mornings, dark evenings, the long stretch of January ahead. Some of us made resolutions. Some of us wondered what this year might bring. Most of us probably feel we’re still finding our footing.
And here we are, at the Jordan River with Jesus, just at the beginning of his ministry. This is his first public act. And it’s an interesting one, isn’t it? He doesn’t start by preaching a sermon or performing a miracle. He starts by wading into cold river water to be baptized.
John is understandably confused. “I need to be baptized by you,” he says, and “do you come to me?” It’s a reasonable question. Why would Jesus need baptism? Traditional theology has wrestled with this—if John’s baptism is about repentance and forgiveness, and Jesus is without sin, what’s happening here?
All of this makes this a strange gospel episode. On the one hand, the gospel writer thought it important enough to begin the story of Jesus’ ministry right here. And thought to record John’s puzzlement. But the gospel writer fails to give an authoritative reading of the significance of the events so carefully described, the “why”.
And the church has puzzled ever since, and still does. However, there are two answers given. One comes in the sign that broke into Jesus’ awareness, added by Matthew. That Jesus saw or sensed God’s Spirit as “something like a dove”. And a voice was heard: “This is my Son, the Beloved, with whom I am well pleased, “ which inaugurates Jesus’ ministry. But still doesn’t answer the “why”.
And for the second answer… for the second answer Jesus simply says: “Let it be so for now, for it is proper for us in this way to fulfil all righteousness.”
What a phrase for the beginning of a new year! Let it be so for now. There’s something wonderfully undogmatic about it, something refreshingly humble in its withholding. Because Jesus isn’t offering an elaborated theology of his own baptism. The claims – both open and oblique – that he would make to messiahship would come later in his life, after his disciples and the world had seen him up close. Jesus is stepping into the river Jordan because it’s the next faithful step, because this is where the journey begins. Because this is the point of connection between what has been and what is to come.
And for both answers, so far so good.
But let’s see if we can go a little further even than Jesus did. Let’s look at what Matthew might be trying to do. Matthew weaves a new gospel garment for the Jesus story, using re-purposed scriptural memory and the circumstances of that day.
So first, there’s John himself. Matthew’s been clear about who John is – he stands in the line of the prophets. He wears Elijah’s clothing. He quotes Isaiah: “Prepare the way of the Lord.” John is the voice crying in the wilderness, calling Israel back to God. His baptism is part of that prophetic tradition – offering a ritual washing that signifies repentance, a turning around, a fresh start with God.
So when Jesus comes to be baptized, he’s not coming as someone who needs to repent. He’s coming to stand with Israel in this moment of renewal. He’s identifying himself with the people John is calling back to God. It’s an act of solidarity, not personal need.
But there’s more going on. Look at what happens when Jesus comes up from the water. “The heavens were opened.” That language should ring bells for anyone who knows their Hebrew scriptures. Isaiah cried out, “O that you would tear open the heavens and come down!” Isaiah was longing for God to break through, to act decisively, to set things right. For the heavens to be shut was to experience God’s absence. For them to open was to experience God’s presence and power breaking into the world.
So when Matthew says the heavens opened at Jesus’ baptism, he’s telling us something crucial: God is breaking through. The long wait is over. And something new is beginning.
And then the Spirit descends “like a dove,” we are told. The dove isn’t just a gentle symbol. In Genesis, when the Spirit of God hovers over the waters of creation, the Hebrew word is the same one used for a bird hovering over its nest. And after the flood, it’s a dove that brings back evidence that the waters have receded, that new life is possible, that creation can begin again. So when the Spirit descends like a dove at Jesus’ baptism, Matthew is linking this moment to creation itself – something is being created, recreated, in the Jesus story.
And then the voice. “This is my Son, the Beloved, with whom I am well pleased.” If you know your scriptures, you hear two texts colliding here. Psalm 2: “You are my son; today I have begotten you” – the psalm of royal enthronement. And Isaiah 42, which we have just heard: “Here is my servant, in whom my soul delights” – the first of Isaiah’s songs about God’s servant who will bring justice to the nations.
So, in that one sentence, God is declaring Jesus to be both the king – the anointed one, the messiah – and the servant – the one who will bring justice not through power and force, but through gentleness and persistence. The one who will not break the bruised reed, or quench the dimly burning wick.
This is what Jesus is stepping into at the Jordan. Not just, not even primarily, a personal spiritual experience, but a calling, a commissioning, a cosmic moment when heaven and earth touch and God’s purposes take human form.
And here’s the thing: Jesus steps into it without knowing, we must imagine, exactly how it will all unfold. “Let it be so for now,” he says. He’s willing to begin by doing, by acting – the explaining can come later, the full unravelling of meaning for another day.
That’s instructive for us, isn’t it? Isaiah’s vision of the servant speaks directly to our moment. “A bruised reed he will not break, and a dimly burning wick he will not quench.” How many of us in church feel like bruised reeds right now? How many of us are flickering flames, barely holding on? For one thing, the holidays can be hard. New year’s resolutions made in hope can feel to be ebbing away. Darkness presses in.
For another thing, church life can be a struggle. Living in community in these times is not easy. Maintain community in these times is difficult.
And if this is true for us in our small lives, and if this is true for us in our churches, how much more so when we look at the events that have unfolded and still unfold in the wide world beyond. We are a people sometimes frightened to look at the news. And when we look at it we see bruised reeds and dimply burning wicks all around.
God’s way, Isaiah tells us, is gentle with our struggles. The servant doesn’t demand strength we don’t have. Doesn’t require that we be unbroken before we’re useful. Doesn’t insist that we burn brightly before we’re worth tending.
And yet – and this is crucial – and yet the servant is also called to “faithfully bring forth justice.” Not just to be gentle, but to work persistently for what’s right. “He will not grow faint or be crushed until he has established justice in the earth.”
This is the balance Jesus embodies. Gentle with the struggling. Persistent in the seeking of justice. Humble. But fierce against the powerful. Committed to taking the next faithful step.
The voice that speaks over Jesus at his baptism – “This is my Beloved” – speaks over us too. In our baptisms, whether we remember them or not, we were claimed by that same love. Not because we were strong or certain or unbroken. But because God chooses to love us, to call us, and to work through us.
And like Jesus, we’re called to a life of both gentleness and justice. We’re called to be tender with bruised reeds – including ourselves. We’re called to tend flickering flames – in our own hearts and in others. And we’re called to work persistently for justice, for light, for what Isaiah calls “opening the eyes of the blind” and “bringing prisoners from the dungeon.”
That work doesn’t require certainty. It requires willingness. It requires showing up. It requires taking the next step even when we can’t see the horizon.
Paul wrote to the Corinthians, “Now we see in a mirror, dimly.” We don’t see clearly. Our understanding is always partial, always provisional. And that’s okay. That is not failure; that’s the human condition. We’re learning as we go. Our faith unfolds over time. What we understand now will deepen and shift as we walk the path.
The point isn’t to have everything figured out. The point is to begin. Or, having begun, To continue. To keep walking.
Jesus stepped into the Jordan, and the heavens opened. The Spirit came. God’s voice spoke love and calling, and Jesus began his ministry – a ministry of gentle, persistent justice. A ministry that would heal and challenge, comfort and disturb, bring light into darkness.
That same Spirit is with us. That same calling speaks over our lives. We are beloved; we are called; we are sent to be gentle with the struggling and persistent in seeking justice.
We don’t have to do it perfectly. We just have to do it faithfully.
As we stand in the still early days of this new year, in the depths of winter, we can learn from Jesus at the Jordan. We can begin where we are. We can be gentle with ourselves and others. We can work for justice and light, humbly and persistently. We can trust that God’s Spirit goes with us.
The heavens opened at the Jordan. They open still. God breaks through. God speaks love. God calls us forward.
Let us walk this path together, you and I. In our lives and in the places we are set – gently and persistently, trusting that God’s light shines even in the darkness – especially in the dark days.
Amen.
Hymn Take My Life and Let It Be
Frances R Havergal (1836–1879) public domain sung by the Cherubim Singers of St Andrew’s Kirk, Chennai and used with their kind permission.
Take my life, and let it be
Consecrated, Lord, to thee;
Take my moments and my days,
Let them flow in ceaseless praise.
Take my hands, & let them move
At the impulse of thy love;
Take my feet, and let them be
Swift and beautiful for thee.
Take my voice, and let me sing
Always, only, for my King;
Take my lips, and let them be
Filled with messages from thee.
Take my silver and my gold,
Not a mite would I withhold;
Take my intellect, and use
Every power as thou shalt choose.
Affirmation of Faith
We believe in God,
the maker of heaven and earth,
who speaks into darkness,
who breathes life into all creation,
who calls us by name.
We believe in Jesus,
the one who shows us the way,
who walked the path of faithfulness,
who said “let it be so” and trusted the journey,
who teaches us how to live with compassion and courage.
We believe in the Holy Spirit,
gentle as a dove,
who descends upon our lives,
who sustains us in darkness,
who empowers us for justice and love.
We believe we are called to journey,
to grow, to question, to seek,
to be gentle with the struggling,
to work for light in darkness,
to say “let it be so for now” and trust the unfolding way.
Thanks be to God. Amen.
Intercessions
God of light-in-darkness,
we pray in these winter days
for all who struggle to see the way ahead.
For those beginning this new year with fear or sorrow,
for those whose hope is dim,
for those who feel alone in the darkness.
Open the heavens, O God.
Let your light shine.
For bruised reeds barely holding on,
for flickering flames about to go out,
for all who wonder if they have the strength to continue.
Gentle God, be near.
Tend what is fragile with care.
For our world, where darkness often seems to prevail,
where justice is delayed and the vulnerable suffer,
where prisoners remain trapped and the blind stumble.
God of justice, work through us.
Make us persistent in seeking light.
For our church and all communities of faith,
learning to walk by faith rather than certainty,
seeking to follow Jesus’ example of compassion,
finding our way as we go.
Spirit of God, guide us.
Give us courage for the journey.
For ourselves, eleven days into this new year,
still finding our footing, still seeking direction,
hoping to grow, to learn, to become more loving.
Voice of blessing, speak over our lives.
Remind us that we are beloved.
God of beginnings,
you meet us where we are.
Give us strength for today
and trust for tomorrow.
We pray in the name of Jesus,
who taught us to pray together:
Our Father…
Offertory
Jesus came to the Jordan not with answers but with willingness,
not with certainty but with faithfulness.
He showed us how to give ourselves to God’s purposes.
We offer our gifts in that same spirit.
God of grace, you have given us so much —
life and breath, the example of Jesus, your Spirit to guide us.
Accept these gifts we bring, symbols of our commitment to the journey,
and to follow where you lead.
Use them, and use us, for your purposes of justice and love.
In Jesus’ name. Amen.
Hymn Lord, for the Years
Timothy Dudley-Smith (1926-2024) © administered by Oxford University. One Licence No. # A-734713 Performed by Ruth and Joy Everingham and used with their kind permission.
Lord, for the years your love has kept and guided,
urged and inspired us, cheered us on our way,
sought us and saved us, pardoned and provided,
Lord of the years, we bring our thanks today.
Lord, for that word, the word of life which fires us,
speaks to our hearts and sets our souls ablaze,
teaches and trains, rebukes us and inspires us,
Lord of the word, receive your people’s praise.
Lord, for our land, in this our generation,
spirits oppressed by pleasure, wealth and care;
for young and old, for commonwealth and nation,
Lord of our land, be pleased to hear our prayer.
Lord, for our world; when we disown and doubt him,
loveless in strength, and comfortless in pain;
hungry and helpless, lost indeed without him,
Lord of the world, we pray that Christ may reign.
Lord, for ourselves; in living power remake us,
self on the cross and Christ upon the throne;
past put behind us, for the future take us,
Lord of our lives, to live for Christ alone.
Blessing
Go now into these dark days of winter
knowing that God’s light shines.
Go as beloved children, willing to journey,
To take the next faithful step, be gentle with the struggling,
work persistently for justice and light.
And may the blessing of God —
the Maker who calls us,
the Christ who shows us the way,
and the Spirit who sustains us —
be with you now and for every day to come.
Amen.