Have you ever been in that awkward dance at the coffee shop register? Someone offers to pay, you immediately refuse, they insist, you resist harder—and suddenly everyone in line is sighing while you battle over who gets to be generous. It’s uncomfortable, isn’t it? Receiving feels harder than giving.

But what if I told you that learning to receive is just as holy as learning to give?

In Matthew’s gospel, we find Jesus at the Jordan River, about to teach us something counterintuitive about righteousness, community, and what it truly means to follow God. And it starts with him doing something that makes absolutely no sense: asking to be baptized.

The Scandal at the River

The last time we saw Jesus in Matthew, he was a child fleeing to Egypt. Now he’s an adult, and his very first public act is walking into the Jordan River and asking John the Baptizer to baptize him.

John’s response? Panic. “I need to be baptized by you,” he protests.

And honestly, John has a point. He’s been out in the wilderness baptizing people for repentance—helping sinners turn back to God. Jesus doesn’t need to repent. He doesn’t need cleansing. If anything, John should be the one getting in line.

But Jesus insists: “Let it be so now; for it is proper for us in this way to fulfill all righteousness” (Matthew 3:15).

Did you catch that word? Us.

Not “me.” Not “you.” Us.

Righteousness, Jesus reveals, isn’t something you achieve alone. It’s something we do together. And sometimes—maybe most of the time—it means letting someone else do for you what you can’t do for yourself.

What Righteousness Really Means

In progressive Christian theology, righteousness isn’t about moral perfection or checking boxes on a piety checklist. It’s about being in right relationship—with God, with each other, with all creation.

And Jesus’ first public act models exactly that. He doesn’t start his ministry with a miracle or a sermon. He starts by receiving. He honors John’s calling. He stands in solidarity with every seeker, sinner, and spiritually curious person who came to the Jordan. He says, “I’m with you. I’m one of you. We’re in this together.”

When Jesus comes up from the water, the heavens tear open. The Spirit descends like a dove. And God’s voice declares: “This is my beloved Child, with whom I am well pleased” (Matthew 3:17).

Notice: God’s pleasure comes not from Jesus’ power or authority, but from his willingness to receive. From his choice of relationship over independence. From his holy “yes” to mutual blessing.

That word—us—changes everything. Righteousness takes both of them: John willing to baptize, Jesus willing to be baptized. When they both step into their roles, heaven opens.

Why Receiving Feels So Hard

If righteousness is about mutual giving and receiving, why does it feel so difficult to actually live that way?

Our culture worships self-sufficiency. “Pull yourself up by your bootstraps.” “I don’t need anybody’s help.” “I’ve got this.” We’ve been taught that independence equals strength and needing others equals weakness.

The church isn’t immune to this toxic myth. We celebrate people who “serve faithfully” and “give back,” but we’re often deeply uncomfortable being the ones who need the casserole, the prayer, the ride to the doctor. We’d rather be the helpers than the helped.

But baptism—Jesus’ baptism and ours—is a scandal of grace. We didn’t earn it. We can’t perform our way into God’s pleasure. We are beloved because God says so, not because we have it all together.

The life of faith is a lifetime of this holy back-and-forth: giving and receiving, showing up for each other, letting ourselves be loved and carried when we need support.

Stewardship Is About Receiving Too

When we talk about stewardship and community, we often focus on what we give—our time, money, talents. And yes, that matters. But stewardship is also about receiving. It’s about trusting that we belong to each other. That we need each other. That the body of Christ only works when we let ourselves be held by it.

Some of you are in a season where you have capacity to give—thank God for that. But some of you are in a season where you need to receive—and that’s holy too. That’s righteousness too.

This is what Jesus modeled at the Jordan. He could have insisted on his power, his authority, his superiority. Instead, he insisted on relationship. On mutuality. On letting someone else bless him.

Maybe that’s the most faithful thing any of us can do.

From Jordan to Calvary

Jesus’ baptism is the beginning of everything. From the Jordan River, he moves into the Sermon on the Mount, teaching us that righteousness is about mercy, justice, peacemaking—being in right relationship with God and neighbor.

Through his healing, feeding, and welcoming, he shows us that righteousness means making space for people with disabilities, for the outcast, for those the world pushes aside.

And ultimately, on the cross, he fulfills all righteousness by giving his life in solidarity with us, refusing to save himself, choosing relationship over power all the way to the end.

It all starts here. In the water. With John and Jesus saying to each other, “Let it be so now.”

Let It Be So Now

So what does this mean for us today?

Maybe the most faithful thing you can do this week is let someone pay for your coffee. Accept the meal. Say yes to the offer of help. Let yourself be prayed for, cared for, supported.

Because righteousness isn’t a solo act. It’s proper for us—together—to fulfill it.

In baptism, we’re connected to Jesus in the Jordan, to the Spirit descending, to God’s voice saying, “You are my beloved.” And we’re connected to each other—called to give and receive freely, to show up for one another, to let ourselves be loved.

Let it be so now.

Share this post with someone who needs to hear that receiving is holy too.