As that that beautiful, powerful spiritual says, “When we go down to the river to pray, studying that good old way,” that we find redemption and renewal. That it leads us to walk in newness of life because we are immersed in the waters of baptism and in the current of grace.

That along the shores of the Washita River in Louisiana, St. Paul’s Baptist Church will gather every year for outdoor baptisms. That they will begin by having several worship services throughout the week, and then they will go down to the river to pray. But some of the older members will say, “We’re going down to the old burying ground.” And by that, they do not mean the cemetery behind the church. They are talking about the river. Because we are buried with Christ in baptism to share in the newness of life.

That those waters become like the waters of the Red Sea, where the people of God left their past behind and stepped into liberation and freedom from the bondage of slavery. And they become like the waters of the River Jordan, where John the Baptist plunged Jesus beneath those waters and a voice overhead said about him, and about us, “This is my beloved with whom I am well pleased,” that we are plunged into death. But it is in the river of life, setting aside what is old and embracing what is new.

It is why the early church, back when Rome controlled the world, and Roman authorities were constantly policing congregations, wanting to know what they are up to and limiting what they could do, that the early church didn’t say, “I’m going to church this morning.” They said, “I’m going to the burial society.” Because no one’s interested in what a burial society is up to. That’s not a party you want to crash. But as Richard Lischer reminds us, there is some truth in the name. That we are buried with Christ, setting aside self-sufficiency, where we can lean in to the grace of God, where through the ways of Jesus, we are led from death into new life.

That’s why Peter and Andrew left their nets behind. It’s why Mary sat down and simply listened to Jesus, even though Martha was busy. It’s why Joanna, who was healed by Jesus, made a commitment to support his ministry financially. And it’s why Saul changed his name to Paul. And all of that change is not stress free.

That I’m guessing Jesus did not realize that today is Father’s Day when he said, “I come to set son against father and mother against daughter and daughter-in-law against mother-in-law,” that “I come not to bring peace but a sword.” This is not permission to create division. But it is preparation for it. That Jesus wants us to deeply love our families, to work through conflict and to maintain strong relationships. But when we make our commitment to the love of God and the love of neighbor above all else, there are times where table fellowship can unravel into table arguments. That it’s not permission for division, but it is preparation for it.

That it is the difference between To Kill a Mockingbird and Go Set a Watchman, both written by Harper Lee. That in To Kill a Mockingbird, Scout looks up to her father with great admiration. She is so proud as he is defending Tom Robinson, a black man, against false accusations. But in Go Set a Watchman by the same author, she is disappointed when she finds out that her father attended a Citizens’ Council meeting, supporting and working for segregation, that she vehemently disagrees with him, that there is conflict.

It’s what Dietrich Bonhoeffer describes as the cost of discipleship, where life just becomes harder than it used to be. There’s no such thing as cheap grace. The grace is absolutely free. But it always costs us something. That as we listen and grow, mature and change, we might encounter conflict along the way.

That one of the hardest parts about life and faith is that we cannot control it. Jesus says in order to find our lives, we must lose them. Whereas we might rather hold on to life as tight as possible in order to find it. But instead, we make choices that stretch us, little by little over time, where we care for the vulnerable, cultivate an unlikely friendship, open ourselves up in worship and prayer, share what we have for the benefit of somebody else, listen to a viewpoint different from our own. That these choices stretch us and help us to embrace the newness of life.

So we try to remain unguarded so we can receive the steadfast love of God. As Wendell Berry writes, “Love comprehends the world we fully cannot comprehend it.” That love helps us better understand and navigate the world around us, but we will never fully understand the height or depth, length or width of the steadfast love of God. So we cannot control it. All we can do is follow it.

That apparently grace is more than a rumor. Diana Shertenlieb attends a church in Atlanta where years ago her priest encouraged her to participate in their prison ministry by writing letters to Josh Bishop, a 22-year-old inmate on Death Row. Hesitantly, she put that first stamp on an envelope and put it in the mail. And over time, a friendship started to begin. In fact, she and her husband, Gary, started visiting John in prison, and she was so surprised when she first met him because he looked so young. And she learned that he had been abandoned by his father and neglected by his mother, that he had slept under bridges, eaten out of trash cans, and fended for himself.

And as they started to get to know one another, she shared with him what her faith meant to her. And he asked questions and she brought him books to read. He was unguarded and open and he found something that grounded him. He experienced love and it changed him. And at the age of 23 he was immersed in the waters of baptism and Diana and Gary became his godparents. And then he tried to find ways to serve others, even from prison. That he worked with a clinic through Mercer Law School where he helped teach 50 law students, sharing with them lessons about justice that they could not learn in any other classroom. And he worked with teenagers, encouraging them to make good, wise decisions, avoiding some of the missteps that he had made, that he walked in newness of life.

And Diana almost didn’t write that first letter. But she was so thankful that she did. Because she stepped into newness of life as well, that we go down to the water to pray, studying that good old way where we step into the current of grace, that we might look up at the picture of baptism, and we might try to listen for the sound of water. We might imagine the current of the river surrounding us. We might let the waters run over our hands, remembering that God’s grace washes over our lives.

Like the waters of the Red Sea and of the River Jordan, through the ways of Jesus, the current of grace always carries us forward into new life. Amen.