Through the waters

Water is also a key element within the biblical narrative. We might even say that it is a hermeneutical key. Water is there at the beginning, in Genesis. God orders the waters and the earth, initiating a process of overcoming chaos. And water runs throughout the biblical story until we reach Revelation, where we encounter the river of the water of life.

Water is there within this framework, from beginning to end. And this is not by chance. Everything depends on water. That is why it also becomes a powerful biblical image, a metaphor, but at the same time a concrete reality that accompanies humanity throughout its history.

But the Bible does not speak of water only as something good. Water is life, but it can also represent danger, suffering, anguish, and death. That is very Lutheran, isn't it? 

Some of the Psalms express this very powerfully: “Save me, O God, for the waters have come up to my neck.” (Psalm 69) Another Psalm says: “Deep calls to deep in the roar of your waterfalls; all your waves and breakers have swept over me.” (Psalm 42). And Psalm 18 expresses the experience of someone who has been rescued from those waters: “He reached down from on high and took hold of me; he drew me out of deep waters.”

The Bible knows what it means to have water up to our necks. Up to our noses. It knows the feeling of having nowhere left to put our feet. Remember that expression: “Can I still touch bottom?” Isn’t that sometimes a question we ask ourselves? Will I still be able to touch bottom? 

There are people who seem very calm on the surface, smiling and going on with their lives, but who, inside, may be drowning. And there are many people drowning.

Families burdened with debts, not knowing how to get out of them or how to pay them. People destroyed by countless addictions. One of the contemporary forms of addiction is related to electronic gaming. Women threatened every second by violence and femicide. And we reach even more horrific situations, such as the murder of children in order to hurt someone else.

Where have we come to?

There are people drowning in hatred and intolerance. People who can no longer see the other shore, who can no longer imagine a way to reach a safe place. These are deep waters surrounding every one of us.

And then come the words of the prophet Isaiah: “Do not be afraid. I have redeemed you. I have called you by name; you are mine. When you pass through the waters, I will be with you; and when you pass through the rivers, they will not sweep over you.”

God is not saying that we will not pass through the waters. We will. But God is saying: “When you pass through the waters, I will be with you.” That is the difference.

There will be water. There will be rivers. There will even be fire. There will be moments in our lives when we say, “I have no strength left. I can’t touch bottom. I won’t be able to make it across.” That is why we are here.

We, the leaders of this small and great church that is the Evangelical Church of the Lutheran Confession in Brazil, have a beautiful testimony: it is not that there will be no cross. There will be a cross. But we will not be alone. We have company. There is someone who helps us carry that cross. This is something important for us to reaffirm.

Because there is so much preaching that says the opposite. There are so many religious messages and speeches that promise a life free from suffering. As if suffering no longer existed. As if someone who has faith could not become ill, lose someone they love, go through a divorce, depression, tragedy, or suffer injustice.

Those messages are not the Gospel. The Gospel does not promise that you will never enter the water. What the Gospel promises is that, when you enter the water, God will be with you.

Water is part of the biblical narrative from beginning to end. It is also fundamental to our Christian faith, to our traditions, to our creeds, and to our practices as a church.

In the sacrament of Baptism, water drowns us. The old life needs to be drowned. And in Baptism, a new life is placed before us in Jesus Christ. That is why, given how often water appears in the history of the church and in our practices, we can say that Christian existence is a great crossing. 

From Baptism to Easter

In Baptism, we are born into Christ and immersed in this promise. At Easter, we are returned to the hands of God and celebrate the One who crossed through death and came out on the other side, saying: “There is life here!” “We can make it across!”

Jesus entered the waters of the Jordan, literally, but also symbolically. He entered into the waters of humanity. Jesus experienced abandonment, violence, and death. He crossed through what seemed to have no end. But death did not have the final word. God raised Christ from the dead.

And when Isaiah says, “When you pass through the waters, I will be with you,” we Christians hear this promise in the light of Christ. Christ has been revealed to us. Christ is with us. God did not stand at a distance watching our crossing, indifferent to our suffering and to our attempts to find shallower water. In Christ, God entered the water with us. God entered human history.

And God also comes out of that grave with us, out of that place of death that lies before us and that we seek to overcome. Our hope is not in never entering deep waters. Our hope is in the One who crosses the waters with us.

But there are deep waters that we, as leaders of the Evangelical Church of the Lutheran Confession in Brazil and as leaders of other partner churches, cannot ignore. We may hear these words — “when you pass through the waters” — symbolically, theologically, metaphorically. But for many people around the world, this is not a metaphor. It is a daily reality. It is access to water.

Data from the World Health Organization and UNICEF indicate that billions of people still do not have safe access to drinking water. Many people obtain water directly from primary sources. They drink water from rivers and other sources without any kind of treatment.

I believe most of us have the privilege of turning on a tap and finding treated, safe water. That is not the reality for many people around the world. In a conversation we had in Porto Alegre, an international group working with refugees mentioned that, in some contexts, a person may walk an average of 15 kilometers to reach a source of water. Fifteen kilometers to go. Fifteen kilometers to return. Just to have water at home. And who carries that water? Disproportionately, women and girls.

Therefore, when we speak about the importance of water for us as a church, for our theology, for our Sacrament, and for our Christian life, we cannot separate the word water from the word justice. To speak of water means speaking of dignity. To speak of water means speaking of health. To speak of water means speaking of gender. It means speaking of children who could be in school. Of women who could be doing something else at that moment, but instead spend much of their day fetching water.

Water, brothers and sisters, is a gift from God. It is a blessing. And precisely because of this, it cannot be a privilege. It is a right.

Perhaps a good image for us, as a church, is precisely this: a community of people on a journey, making a crossing. 

We are a people in transit

We are not people who have already arrived. We are people who cross over. Who sail. Sometimes in calm waters. Sometimes in deep waters. Sometimes we can touch bottom. Sometimes we cannot. Sometimes we feel that the boat is sinking.

Sometimes it is up to us to extend that hand. The center of the message of Isaiah 43 that we have heard here is not the waters. In fact, it is not even the fire. The center is God. Perhaps there are three important statements in Isaiah 43 that we should carry with us in our lives, and that are already in our hearts. I simply want to remind us of them.

The first is the affirmation: “I created you.” We are not an accident; we are not a coincidence. We are people created by God, in God’s image and likeness.

The second is: “I called you by name.” We are not an anonymous crowd. God knows our name. God knows things about us that, sometimes, even we do not know about ourselves.

And the third is: “You are mine. You are mine.” Perhaps this is one of the deepest and most beautiful phrases in all of Scripture. “You are mine. You are mine.” Not because we are perfect. Not because we know everything. Not because we are strong. Not because we are “know-it-alls.” We belong to God because God has chosen it to be so. God has chosen to love us.

The waters continue to exist. But they are not greater than God. The Word of God is not a promise that these waters will disappear. The promise is even deeper: “When you pass through the waters, I will be with you.” When we no longer have the strength to swim or row, God will be with us. When we can no longer see the other shore, God will be with us. When we cannot see the other shore, God will be with us. When the waves are greater than our strength, God will be with us.

Perhaps, at some moments, the presence of God comes through another person. Through a word. Through an embrace. Through a community. Through a church. Through a brother. Through a sister. Because God also calls us to be, for one another, extended hands in the midst of the depths.

Life will continue to bring difficult rivers to cross. Sometimes there will be loss, change, processes, illness, uncertainty, and storms. There will be turbulent waters within us and around us. But they will not have the last word. The fire will not have the last word. Violence will not have the last word. Fear will not have the last word. Nor will death have the last word.

Because the last word belongs to the God who says: “I created you. I called you by name. You are mine. You are mine.”

Let us continue to be a church in transit, a church on a journey. And in every crossing, may we hear once again the voice of the Lord: “Do not be afraid.”

And when the waters of the sea of life come, may we have the certainty that we can hold on to the hands of God.

This is my request. This is my prayer: that, in all our decisions, we may consider the best path for our church to be a source of clean water for those who thirst; a safe boat for those who are drowning; and a beacon of light for those who have lost their way.

This reflection was originally presented on 27 August 2026 during the 35th General Council of the Evangelical Church of the Lutheran Confession in Brazil.