RIGHTEOUSNESS FULFILLED: THE BURDEN LAID DOWN AND THE PRAISE LIFTED UP
The Jordan River lies quiet beneath the Galilean sun, its waters shimmering like a mirror held before heaven. Into that humble stream Jesus stepped, leaving the carpenter’s village behind, walking down among the crowds who confessed their sins with trembling lips. John recoiled at the sight. “I ought to be baptized by You, and yet You come to me?” But Jesus, full of meek majesty, answered, “Let it be so now, for it is fitting for us to fulfill all righteousness” (Matt. 3:13-15).
Those words rise like a great bell over all the ages. The baptism of John was a furnace where sin was confessed, judged, and pictured as buried. The people went down into the water as though into a grave, acknowledging that sin had no right in God’s world. Sin is the great intruder, the burglar that slipped into Eden’s home. It has never been merely a stain on creation; it has always clung to the sinner himself. And God’s holy verdict echoes down the corridors of Scripture: “You have no right here.” The unrighteous cannot dwell in the kingdom where everything reflects the God who made it.
So the Jordan stood like a doorway to judgment. And into that doorway Jesus walked, the only One who had nothing to confess and yet the only One who could bear the weight of all confession. In that moment He was presenting Himself as the Lamb who would take away the sin of the world. He was stepping into the place where sinners stood, placing His pure feet where our guilty feet should have sunken forever.
When He said, “to fulfill all righteousness,” He was declaring that the foreign thing—sin, rebellion, the falsehood of our fallen life—would be carried by Him to death. The robber who shattered God’s good creation must die; and Christ, standing in our stead, entered the waters as the One who would go down into the deeper flood of judgment at Calvary. There He put away all unrighteousness—yours and mine—once for all.
If we have taken our place with Him in that death, if we have yielded our hearts and confessed His Cross as our own judgment, then something unshakeable has happened. We are not meant to return again and again with the fear that we are intruders in the courts of God. When we rose from that spiritual grave with Christ, we rose on rightful ground. The question of our acceptance was settled in the crimson shadow of His obedience. He died once. The righteousness He fulfilled stands forever.
This is the ground of holy joy. Praise rises when the soul realizes that God has no unanswered question about us. “Let us draw near with boldness.” “Let us come with full assurance.” These invitations flow from the truth that the judgment has fallen behind us in Christ, and righteousness stands before us in Christ. Israel marched under the banner of Judah—praise—because sin had been dealt with at the altar. Likewise, the church moves forward when the heart lifts its voice in confidence, knowing the way is open.
But someone whispers, “What about the weakness that clings to me still? What about the temptations I battle? What about the dark corners of the old life?” The answer is this: sanctification is a journey, but acceptance is an act. The old man still echoes like distant thunder, but he does not sit on the throne. We are not held in the wilderness because of our remaining infirmities; we are held when our hearts turn back longingly toward Egypt. But if, by grace, your soul says, “I hate the old life and I cleave to Christ,” then you stand on holy ground. The new relationship becomes the living power that transforms you day by day.
When we doubt our welcome before God, we bind His hands from shaping us. But when we rest upon the once-for-all work of the Crucified, the Spirit breathes courage, the conscience is washed, and praise becomes the banner over our path. Then joy rises—holy, steady, radiant joy—because we know that in Christ we are not strangers or wanderers, but sons and daughters standing in the light of the Father’s house.
In the calm of the Jordan and in the shadow of the Cross, righteousness has been fulfilled. And the soul that clings to Christ walks in the sunlight of a settled peace, welcomed, wanted, and wonderfully accepted in the Beloved.
BDD