Baptism is loud. It isn’t a quiet thing. It doesn’t use its indoor voice; in fact, it doesn’t have an indoor voice. And what does baptism say? What is the substance of the holy ruckus it makes? It proclaims that Christ lived, and died, and rose again; and your baptism into Him means that you did too.
It doesn’t whisper sweet-nothings about how good of a person you are, or how lucky God is that you chose him, or that you’ve done anything spectacular. It doesn’t speak coddling words to puff up your self-esteem. It doesn’t get all mushy with sentimental sayings.
It shouts that you are dead. The Old Man is crucified––with all his twisted desires, all his selfish rage, all his pride, all his shame, all his guilt. Your baptism tells you, and the whole world, that when Christ died, you died in Him. And with the volume turned to full blast, it blares out like a megaphone that when Christ rose, you rose with Him to new life, and You are now seated with Him in His reign of peace. This is the promise that is declared by this sign of baptism, and this is the gift that you receive by faith.