One of the most striking details in the Gospel is what happens immediately after Jesus is baptised.

There is no pause.
No celebration.
No easing into things.

Jesus comes up out of the Jordan,
the heavens open,
the Spirit descends,
the Father speaks —

and then, at once,
the Spirit drives Him into the desert.

Into temptation.
Into struggle.
Into testing.

That sequence matters.

Because it tells us something essential about baptism —
not just Christ’s baptism,
but ours.

Jesus’ baptism does not protect Him from difficulty.

It leads Him straight into it.

This corrects a misunderstanding that quietly creeps into Christian thinking.

We can begin to imagine that faith exists to make life smoother,
that baptism is meant to shield us from hardship,
that closeness to God should mean fewer challenges.

The Gospel says otherwise.

Baptism does not remove difficulty.
It gives difficulty meaning.

The Church gives us this feast not just to admire Jesus,
but to recognise the pattern of our own lives.

In baptism, we are:

• cleansed of sin
• claimed by God
• given a new identity

But we are not removed from the world.

We are sent back into it.

The Christian life is not an escape from struggle.
It is a way of standing inside it differently.

With direction.
With hope.
With grace.

That is why baptism is not the end of the journey.
It is the beginning of one.

And yet, if we are honest,
baptism is often treated as something far smaller than it is.

It becomes:

• a family tradition
• a cultural marker
• something that happened long ago and is now finished

We speak of it in the past tense.

“I was baptised.”

As if it were a childhood photograph,
a memory,
a box ticked.

But baptism is not a souvenir.
It is a summons.

It is God laying claim to a life.

To be baptised is to be enlisted.

Not into a club,
but into a way of life.

Baptism calls us:

• to live differently
• to resist sin
• to belong to Christ openly

That is why Jesus goes into the desert.
Because fidelity must be tested.
Because love must be chosen.

The desert is not a punishment.
It is a proving ground.

And God never leads us there without also giving us what we need to endure it.

And every baptised person will know it in some form.

Some people say,
“I don’t really feel much struggle in my life.”

Sometimes, not always, but sometimes, the reason there is no struggle
is not because the battle has been won —
but because it has been abandoned.

The desert is quiet
when no one is resisting.

Temptation feels weak
when we have already agreed with it.

If faith never costs us anything,
if conscience is never challenged,
if the Gospel never unsettles our choices,
then it may be that we are no longer walking with Christ —
but simply drifting with the world.

This is the part we sometimes avoid saying out loud.

If we have been baptised,
neutrality is no longer an option.

We do not get to belong partly to Christ
and partly to whatever else claims us.

Jesus Himself says:
“Whoever is not with me is against me.”

Baptism places us on a side.

Not because God wants to limit us,
but because divided hearts do not survive.

So what does baptism look like in ordinary life?

It looks like choosing truth
when lying would be easier.

It looks like forgiveness
when resentment feels justified.

It looks like resisting habits
that quietly pull us away from God.

It looks like prayer that is faithful,
not just convenient.

It looks like Sunday Mass not as an option, but as a necessity.
Not because God needs our attendance,
but because we need to stand before the Cross and give thanks.

The Sunday obligation is not a burden placed on us,
but the Church’s way of saying: do not forget what God has done for you.
To stay away without cause
is not simply to miss a gathering,
but to turn away from the only sacrifice that can save us.

Baptism shapes daily decisions,
not just major moments.

Now this must be said clearly.

Living baptism does not mean living perfectly.

Jesus was tempted.
We will be too.

Failure does not undo baptism.
Refusal does.

When we fall,
the Christian response is not despair,
but return.

That is why the Church gives us Confession.
That is why mercy is always offered.
That is why grace can be recovered.

Baptism begins the life.
Repentance restores it.
The Eucharist sustains it.

In the Jordan,
before Jesus does anything publicly,
the Father speaks:

“You are my beloved Son.”

That voice will be challenged in the desert.
It will be mocked later.
It will seem silent at times.

The same is true for us.

The world will tell us:

• you define yourself
• you choose your own truth
• you belong to no one but yourself

Baptism says otherwise.

Your identity is received, not invented.
You belong to God.
You are not alone.

And that is what gives strength in struggle.

Baptism does not spare us the desert.
It tells us why we are there.

It turns struggle into a place of decision.
Temptation into a place of faith.
Life into a path that leads somewhere.

The desert is not evidence that God has abandoned us.
It is often evidence that we are walking in the right direction.

Baptism is not a memory.
It is a calling.

It commits us to Christ
and draws us out of the sidelines.

We belong to Christ.

May we live as those who know it,
and return to it,
again and again,
until the journey is complete.