I’ve been washed by the water, I’ve been cleansed by the sea / I’ve been touched by the river of eternity / Though I don’t understand it I have never been the same / I can’t turn back the water, the water of change.

For five years when my children were small, I was like you: I sat out in the congregation. I was on leave from my official duties of ministry, and I did a lot of volunteer work in the neighborhood. One of the people I met was Gene. He was the guy who ran the barbeque every Friday at the HIV network next door. I was worshipping next to Gene when we sang this song, “The Water of Change,” by Dakota Road.

I wonder aloud where in the world I might be / if the cross had not been shown to me / It’s opened my heart, made me look outside and see / I can no longer live for only me.

I didn’t know a lot about Gene’s past. I knew that he was born in the south, and that his family had moved north along with many other southern black people looking for jobs. I knew he’d jumped out of planes in Viet Nam and that at one time, he’d been in trouble with the law. But it was clear to me that he lived a new life now. When we sang that verse about how our life changed knowing Jesus, Gene said, “That’s me.”

And it was true. Whatever his past, Gene was a changed man. By the time I knew him, he had dedicated his life to making a difference for others. Whether it was giving away donated goods for the clients at the HIV network, hosting neighborhood potlucks with me, or doing custodial work at the church, Gene was always there when someone was in need. His greatest joy was founding a non-profit to donate resources to two villages in Uganda. He traveled there twice himself to make the delivery. Gene was touched by the waters of baptism, and he was never the same.

We hear about others changed by baptism in our lessons today—the people who came out to John the Baptist in the wilderness, looking for a change in life. They experienced the change of repentance, that amazing freedom that comes from saying I’m sorry and making amends.

The early Christians described in our second lesson were changed, too—they were given new abilities when they were baptized in the name of Jesus. The first was prophecy, the insight to speak a word of truth to current situations. The second was tongues, which, like on the Day of Pentecost, allowed people to communicate in surprising new ways. In each case, people were different on the other side of those baptismal waters—they couldn’t touch them and remain the same.

At Jesus’ baptism, the message was the same. “And just as he was coming up out of the water, he saw the heavens torn apart and the Spirit descending on him like a dove.” The change was not in Jesus, but in the cosmos itself—the sky, which veiled the place where God dwells, was ripped open, revealing a new connection between heaven and earth. The Spirit came down like a dove, a visible sign of God’s presence on earth in Jesus.

Since then, every person baptized into Jesus’ name has been granted the same gift, the gift of the Holy Spirit—that is, God living within us, in our lives. God has given each one of us a calling, a way to make a difference in the world.

On the day of baptism, we promise to “live among God’s faithful people, hear the word of God and share in the Lord’s Supper; proclaim the good news of God in Christ through word and deed; serve all people following the example of Jesus; and strive for justice and peace in all the earth.” The Holy Spirit is what empowers us to live out these promises. The waters turn us outward toward others. The waters change our way of thinking. You can’t touch the waters and remain the same.

But there is complexity in living out baptismal vows, because though we are changed by the waters, we are also living in the real world. I was thinking about this yesterday as I participated in “Yoga under the Wings,” a local studio that hold free classes in one of the hangars of the Air Force Museum. As I moved through the poses, I contemplated cultivating inner peace in a world where war was a reality. I thought about the men, women and children facing this every day in their homeland and many of you, who serve in the armed forces or its support industries. We have touched the waters, and we are not the same, but it doesn’t mean that we can solve all the world’s problems. We live out our baptismal vows in an imperfect world. As baptized people, we embrace forgiveness for ourselves and others and we listen for the ways the Spirit calls us to live out our calling to serve, to foster peace and work for justice in the particular circumstances and opportunities of our lives.

Which brings me back to Gene. One of Gene’s deepest longings was to reunite his large family. There had been a number of rifts over the years, and some of his siblings wouldn’t talk to each other. But try as he might, Gene could not get the whole family into one room, not even when he was dying of cancer and asked them to come.

I thought about this as I sat through Gene’s funeral. It was in the funeral home, because it was planned by Gene’s family and that was where they were comfortable. As expected, a few family members were still holding a grudge and were not there. But what was surprising to me was how many church members came—white church members, people who came from such a different backgrounds than Gene, some who previous to knowing Gene would have never stepped foot into a funeral home in that part of the city. And I thought, Gene may not have been able to bring his family together but he arguably did a more difficult thing—he brought together so many people who never would have known each other, church folks and church neighbors, people from the US and Uganda, people of all faith backgrounds who were a part of the HIV network. Gene integrated our formerly white Lutheran church and made a family out of us. Gene was touched by the waters of change, and it changed the rest of us, too.

I think of that day when Gene recognized himself in the song, “The Water of Change.”

He cultivated a certain awareness in his living and made daily decisions to serve others wherever he could. And gradually, those waters of change worked on Gene until he was the beautiful man I knew. Martin Luther talked about remembering your baptism every day—that you are a chosen, beloved child of God, given a job and the skills to do it. Gene is an example to me of what Luther was talking about—Gene lived out his baptism each day.

Today as we celebrate the festival of Baptism of Our Lord, we too can make a decision to live out our baptism. Consider the promises made on the day of your baptism. Recommit yourself to living out the life of faith. God has gifted you with the Holy Spirit and has placed in your heart already what you need to do. We’ve touched the waters of change, and we will never be the same.