In Matthew chapter 3, we are introduced to the work of John the Baptist, who preached in the wilderness and prepared the way for Christ. We get a vivid picture of who John is: a rugged, wild man with a sharp tongue and a passionate heart for Jesus. In verse 13, Jesus comes from Galilee to be baptized by John. He specifically asks John to perform the baptism. John’s hesitation is understandable. He knows who Jesus was, the Son of God. Still, John eventually submits to Christ’s request.

In the exchange between John and Jesus, we encounter the first aspect of the portrait of divinity. We get a clear glimpse of the humanity of Christ.

John the Baptist was not only a passionate minister; he was Jesus’ relative. According to Luke chapter 1, when Elizabeth, John’s mother, greeted Mary, the baby leaped in her womb. Even before they were born, while still in the waters of their mothers’ wombs, they were connected. And here they are again, joined in water once more.

This was not just a divine moment. It pointed to the fact that Jesus had a family. He had a cousin. He was human. God came to Earth, took on flesh, and began ministry with the blessing of His own blood relative. Here, we see the humanity of Christ on full display.

As we reflect on the humanity of Christ, an important question arises: why would God need to be baptized? Why would Christ, who had committed no sin, take part in a ritual typically associated with repentance? According to Jesus, it was “to fulfill all righteousness” (Matthew 3:15). But Christ was the embodiment of righteousness. So why the baptism?

In this moment, we see another powerful image of Christ’s humanity. He wasn’t baptized because he needed cleansing, but because he was establishing a model, a precedent, for all of humanity. Baptism is not a washing away of sin; it is a public declaration of one’s commitment to God’s calling. Christ’s baptism occurred just before His time in the wilderness and the beginning of His ministry. It wasn’t an act of repentance but a profound expression of solidarity with us. It revealed Christ’s need, not for forgiveness, but for the One we identify as our heavenly Father. The baptism also displayed His willingness to publicly align Himself with God’s mission.

Like a wedding before friends and loved ones, Christ’s baptism was a public act of love and devotion, a stage set for a life that honored God. In the same way, our baptisms become a declaration of our identity, our purpose, and our intention to glorify the God in whose image we are made. In Christ’s immersion, we see something we can internalize, something we can emulate. His humanity was baptized, and in that, we find something deeply relatable and sacred.

The second aspect of the portrait is the purpose of Christ’s life on earth. In this scene, Christ steps fully into his mission. His baptism marks the formal beginning of His ministry. Though we know little of His life before this moment, what follows is unmistakable: Christ walks in bold assurance of His calling to redeem humanity. He tells John He came to fulfill righteousness, echoing His later declarations that He came to fulfill the law (Matthew 5:17), to fulfill the imagery of seeking and saving the lost (Luke 19:10), and to bring life (John 10:10).

In the waters of baptism, we see purpose rise to the surface—clear, unwavering, divine.

The third aspect of the portrait is the presence of the Holy Spirit. As Christ emerges from the water, the Spirit descends like a dove and rests upon Him. This was more than symbolism; it was a visible manifestation of divine presence. The Spirit’s descent affirmed that Christ was not alone. From this moment on, the Spirit would remain with Him, empowering Him, guiding Him, sustaining Him. Jesus would later promise this same presence to His followers: “Peace I leave with you; my peace I give you” (John 14:27). The dove reminds us that the Spirit is both presence and peace—a light upon us, a fire within us.

And finally, the fourth component is the pleasure of the Father. In Matthew 3:17, we hear the voice from heaven declare: “This is my Son, whom I love; with him I am well pleased.” This moment reveals more than God’s delight—it reveals the very heart of divine relationship.

Often, we think of pleasure as something earned—something granted after we’ve accomplished a task or proven our worth. But here, before Christ has performed any miracle or preached a single sermon, the Father expresses profound pleasure. Not because of what Jesus had done, but because of who He was.

This is a radical truth: God’s pleasure is rooted in identity, not performance. And that truth extends to us. We are beloved not because of our accomplishments, but because we are God’s children—co-heirs with Christ (Romans 8:17). His delight in us is not something we earn. It is something we receive.