[Matthew 3:5-12]

Some people are really bad swimmers. That’s why they take lessons.

They walk up to the registration desk at the YMCA and they say, “I can’t swim. I don’t know how to do a freestyle.” And the guy at the desk says, “You’ll have to get wet.” And they say, “great.” And they are really nervous about getting into the water, but they want to know how to swim.

Some people are really bad swimmers. That’s why they laugh at the people taking lessons.

They look through the window by the pool and they say, “Who do you think you are, Michael Phelps? You look like a fool. You look like a walrus.” (They aren’t very kind.)

They fold their arms and remember their grandfather’s stories of his time in the Navy, his wonderful service in the South Pacific, the honors he received. They remember how he was president of the Coast Guard Auxiliary for forty years, how everyone treated them special at the annual picnics (“You’re Abe’s grandkids? Let me tell you about the time…”)

Trouble is, they think that the stories make them swimmers. But the stories make you a storyteller. Swimming lessons make you a swimmer.

John (the baptizing one) was by the river. People would come to him. They would say, “My life is messed up. I’ve done this and this. I don’t want to do that.” And John would say, “Okay. Let’s go wash in the water. It will remind you of this day, this day that you said, I want to change.”

Lots of people came.

Including religious people who simply watched. And made comments. And pretended to care.

John called them snakes. John knew that following God isn’t about telling stories about God. It’s about following.

(And sometimes getting wet)