There's a holy tension at the heart of the Christian faith—a sacred interplay between the things God does once and the things God calls us to do again and again. There are mountaintop moments in the spiritual life—so decisive, so defining, so destiny-declaring—that they only need to happen a single time. And yet, there are other moments: daily moments, weekly moments, moments that beat like a spiritual heartbeat. These moments must be repeated over and over again if we hope to stay alive in the faith, if we hope to stay strong in the Spirit, if we hope to stay hungry for the presence of God.

Take baptism, for example. Baptism is one of the great symbols of our salvation, one of the oldest rituals of our Christian identity. In baptism, we go down into the water and rise; we get sprinkled by the water and then dried off. We descend as wanderers and emerge as witnesses. We go under in death, and we come up in resurrection. In those sacred waters, we declare before heaven and earth that we belong to God. Baptism is about identity, belonging, and divine claim.

And because identity does not need repetition, baptism in the Christian tradition is done once and only once: one baptism, one faith, one Lord who claims us for God’s self. Yet the spiritual life that calls for a once-in-a-lifetime baptism also calls for continual renewal—daily surrender, hourly rededication, frequent repentance, and constant awakening. We need spiritual refreshment like water in a thirsty land. We need revival like oxygen to the lungs. We need the Spirit to reclaim us, redirect us, and refill us.

And this is why we take Holy Communion—not once, not twice, but repeatedly, again and again. We come to the table because again and again we need the bread of heaven. Again and again we need the cup of salvation. Again and again we need to remember the sacrifice that saved us and the love that holds us.

But baptism—baptism stands alone. In contrast to communion, baptism is once for all. And that raises for us a profound, provocative question worthy of our attention today: If you and I can confess, if you and I can acknowledge that we need renewal over and over—if we take communion repeatedly, if we pray, repent, and worship continually—why was Jesus baptized only once?

Why not a baptism for the wilderness, and then another before the miracles? Why not a baptism before the cross, and then another after the resurrection? Why was there one baptism for the One who came to save the entire world?

Today, I want you to walk with me to the water’s edge. Let us find our answer in the Gospel of Matthew, here in chapter 3. Because the Scripture says, “Then Jesus came from Galilee to John at the Jordan.”

Right there in the text, I want you to notice the humility of His movement. He does not come riding a chariot. He doesn’t come escorted by angels. He is not wrapped in royal robes. He comes walking the dusty road like any other pilgrim. He comes to a river, not a throne. He comes to be baptized—to go down, not to be elevated and lifted up. He comes to submit, not to show off.

This is Jesus, my friends. In the text, Jesus is humble and holy and heading toward His purpose. John sees Him and is stunned. “Wait a minute,” he cries out. “I need to be baptized by you—and you come to me?”

John knows Jesus has no sin to repent of. John knows Jesus has no guilt to wash away, no shame to drown. But Jesus insists with purpose: “Let it be so now, for it is proper for us to fulfill all righteousness.”

Here, Jesus is not being baptized because He needs cleansing. He’s being baptized because you and I need clarity. His baptism is not for His sin but for our understanding—not for His forgiveness, but for our identity.

And when Jesus rises from the water in the text, eternity breaks into time. The heavens split open. The Spirit descends like a dove. The Creator speaks with soul-shaking authority: “This is my beloved Son, in whom I am well pleased.”

Friends, notice: In this moment, heaven did not hesitate. Heaven did not whisper. Heaven declared. And that declaration—holy, heavenly, history-shaping—that declaration is why Jesus was only baptized once, and why you and I need only be baptized once. Because once heaven speaks, heaven does not need to repeat itself. God has no reason to revise, retract, or take back what God has said.

The Father’s voice is final and fixed and forever.

On this, the second Sunday of January, trust that your Christian identity needs no repetition. Identity does not require repetition—it requires remembrance. That’s why Jesus never returned to the Jordan for a second baptism. He never again asked John to dip Him. He never said, “I need another confirmation.” He never sought a repeated declaration, because the first one—the first one—was eternal.

Let me, if you will, be Presbyterian for just a moment.

Notice that in Jesus’ life, storms came—but He remembered His baptism. Temptation came—but He remembered His baptism. Rejection came—but He remembered His baptism. Calvary came—but He remembered His baptism.

He kept His footing because He kept His identity. He kept His identity because He kept His baptism. Jesus was only baptized once because one divine declaration was enough. And if Jesus—the Alpha and Omega, the author and finisher of our faith—was satisfied with one baptism, then so should we be.

Baptism is not a contract up for renewal. It is a covenant sealed by the Holy Spirit, grounded in grace, and anchored in the eternal will of God.

But hear me clearly: although one baptism is done—and that is enough—it is a meaning that is to be lived out daily. Though it happens in a moment, it governs a lifetime. Though it is one act, it produces ongoing transformation. We renew our strength repeatedly, but we do not need to repeat our baptism. We return to prayer repeatedly, but we do not return to the river for a second pledge.

We take communion repeatedly because communion sustains what baptism begins. Communion is the meal. Baptism is the birth. Communion nourishes. Baptism names. Communion strengthens. Baptism seals. Communion is repeated. Baptism is remembered.

Jesus never went back to the Jordan to be baptized, but in His ministry, He walked forward. He walked forward into mission. Walked forward into miracles. Walked forward into suffering. Walked forward into resurrection. He walked forward, anchored in the identity the Creator had spoken over Him.

And now, at this early moment of this new year, we must ask ourselves: What does this mean for us here and now? On this, the second week of January, standing at the doorway of a new year that is before us?

Friends, I’ve come to tell you—it means that we begin the year with identity, not anxiety. Before Jesus achieved, God approved. Before Jesus performed, God was pleased. Before Jesus did anything public, God declared something eternal.

Likewise, for every child of God under the sound of my voice: You begin this year not scrambling for worthiness, but standing in belovedness. You do not start with pressure. You start with promise. You do not start with insecurity. You start with identity.

Secondly, Jesus’ baptism teaches us that God’s love is the foundation of our calling. Before Jesus healed the sick, God said, “You are my beloved.” Before He fed the multitudes, God said, “You are my beloved.” Before He endured Calvary, God said, “You are my beloved.”

Friends, that means your calling is not earned—it is inherited. Your purpose is not performed into existence—it is proclaimed into reality. God does not love you because you work hard. God loves you because God made you, God claims you, and God calls you God's own.

Third, the baptism of Jesus teaches us that you do not need God to rename you—you need to remember the name God already gave you. We lose our way not because God abandons us, but because we forget who we are. We falter not because our baptism expires, but because our memory fades.

So when fear rises this year, remember your baptism. When temptation knocks this year, remember your baptism. When depression shadows you this year, remember your baptism. When the devil lies on you this year, remember your baptism. And this year—when the world rejects you—remember your baptism.

This year, I want you to trust and believe. I want you to know and receive that you are God’s beloved. You are baptized. You are sealed. You are chosen. You are claimed.

The baptism of the Lord matters because it shows us: God’s first word over every new beginning is love. When Jesus began His ministry, God declared love. When we begin a new year, God declares love. When we begin again after failure, God declares love. And when we start over after heartbreak, God declares love.

Love is God’s opening note. Love is God’s eternal theme. Love is God’s covenant promise.

So why was Jesus baptized only once? Because once is enough for the God who speaks eternally.

And why are we baptized only once? Because once God claims you, God keeps you. Once God names you, God knows you. Once God seals you, God strengthens you. Once God chooses you, God cherishes you.

You don’t need many baptisms. You need to live boldly into the one God already gave you.

As you step into this year, step in assured, anchored, and affirmed. Don’t ask God to dip you again—ask God to remember who you are.

Remember that you are beloved and chosen. You are called and named. You are claimed and sealed. Baptized once and blessed forever.

God bless you, Day1—and may heaven smile upon you.