Matthew 3:6

Berean Standard Bible

Confessing their sins, they were baptized by him in the Jordan River.

King James Bible

And were baptized of him in Jordan, confessing their sins.

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Matthew 3:6 reads, “And were baptized of him in Jordan, confessing their sins.” This verse follows the depiction of the mass movement of people in verse 5, and now focuses on what they did when they arrived—an act both symbolic and profoundly transformative. At first glance, it might seem like a simple description of a religious ritual, but it holds layers of theological significance, both in its historical context and in the broader narrative of redemption.

The phrase “were baptized of him in Jordan” centers the scene in the ministry of John the Baptist, whose baptism was not merely a ceremonial washing, but a prophetic act calling Israel to repentance in preparation for the arrival of the Messiah. John's baptism is unlike the later Christian baptism instituted by Christ, yet it prefigures it. It is transitional, occupying a liminal space between the old covenant and the new. His baptism is not tied to a sacramental theology of regeneration, but to repentance, urgency, and moral transformation. It is a public declaration that the person being baptized recognizes their spiritual need and desires to return to God. This act would have been especially weighty for Jewish people who already participated in ritual cleansings within the framework of the Mosaic Law. Yet here, in the Jordan River—a site of immense historical and symbolic resonance—they were voluntarily submitting to a baptism that implied a deep and personal need for cleansing not from ceremonial impurity but from sin itself.

The Jordan River had long been associated with thresholds and transitions. It was the river that Israel crossed under Joshua’s leadership to enter the Promised Land. It was a boundary between wandering and inheritance, between the wilderness and the land of promise. By calling people to be baptized in the Jordan, John was situating his ministry within this larger narrative of transition. He was proclaiming that Israel stood at another threshold—not geographical, but spiritual. A new exodus was being initiated, not from Egypt, but from spiritual stagnation and legalistic deadness. The people stepping into the waters were reenacting Israel’s history, symbolically passing through judgment and into a renewed covenantal identity.

Furthermore, the act of being baptized by John implies submission. These individuals were placing themselves under the authority of a prophet who stood outside the temple system, outside the Sanhedrin, outside the institutions of the religious elite. In doing so, they were making a clear statement: they believed that God was moving outside the familiar channels, and they wanted to be part of it. Their action was not one of passive observation but active repentance. They were not merely hearing a sermon and walking away convicted—they were entering the water. In a time when ritual and religiosity were deeply entrenched in institutional structures, such a response was radical and countercultural.

The second half of the verse, “confessing their sins,” adds crucial depth to the meaning of the baptism. This was not a mindless ritual; it was tethered to a deep inward reckoning. Confession here should not be thought of in merely legalistic or performative terms. The Greek suggests an open and voluntary acknowledgment—an honest confrontation of one’s inner condition. The people were not coming with rehearsed liturgies or vague generalities. They were exposing their failings, shedding their shame in the light of divine truth, and agreeing with God’s verdict on their lives. This element of confession shows us that the baptism was not magical or mechanical—it was part of a process of transformation rooted in truth-telling and humility.

This emphasis on confession also signals a shift from corporate identity to individual accountability. In Israel’s past, judgment and blessing often came upon the people as a collective entity. But here, each person must come forward, confess their own sins, and enter the waters. This anticipates the gospel message that though God saves a people, He calls individuals. No one could rely on their lineage, their tribal affiliation, or their outward observance. Each person had to respond. The fact that so many did is a testimony to the movement of the Spirit, stirring in the hearts of men and women across all regions.

John’s baptism, with its emphasis on repentance and confession, also sets the stage for the person of Christ. It is preparatory in nature, both in message and form. John himself later says, “I indeed baptize you with water unto repentance, but He who comes after me is mightier than I.” His baptism is like the breaking of fallow ground, turning the soil of the soul so that the seed of the gospel might take root. The confession of sins becomes the doorway to grace. And although Jesus had no sins to confess, He too will step into the Jordan and receive this baptism—not for His own purification, but to identify with sinners, to fulfill all righteousness, and to inaugurate the very kingdom John proclaims.

This verse also confronts modern readers with a challenge. The image of people confessing sins and publicly submitting to baptism in the Jordan stands in sharp contrast to the often privatized, sanitized versions of spirituality so common today. It reminds us that genuine repentance is not vague regret or mere self-improvement. It is the acknowledgment of sin before a holy God and the decision to turn from it with our whole being. It involves humility, vulnerability, and obedience. It means stepping out of the crowd and into the water—not for spectacle, but for surrender.

Finally, Matthew 3:6 presents us with a microcosm of the gospel dynamic: God moves first, stirring the hearts of the people through the prophetic word; the people respond, drawn not by coercion but by conviction; and in that response, they are transformed. Confession is not the end but the beginning. It clears the way for mercy, for cleansing, and ultimately for the encounter with the One who will baptize not just with water, but with the Holy Spirit and fire.

Thus, in this simple verse, we see the anatomy of revival, the humility of true repentance, and the beauty of hearts awakened to the nearness of God’s kingdom. It is not the power of John that changes people, nor the Jordan’s waters, but the Spirit of God moving through a people who are willing to say, without excuse or evasion, “I have sinned,” and to step forward in hope that the God who calls them is merciful enough to make them new.

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Dearly Beloved in Christ, grace to you and peace from God our Father and the Lord Jesus Christ, who has called us out of darkness into His marvelous light. As I write to you, my heart is stirred by the sacred words of the Gospel, particularly the testimony of Matthew, the third chapter and sixth verse, which declares, “And they were baptized of him in Jordan, confessing their sins.” O how these words resound with the eternal call of God, a call that echoes through the ages, summoning every soul to turn from the shadows of sin and step boldly into the cleansing waters of repentance and grace. Let us, with humble hearts and fervent spirits, meditate upon this divine moment, for it is not merely a record of history but a living invitation to each of us, a beacon of hope and a pathway to reconciliation with our Creator.

Consider, beloved, the scene painted by the evangelist: the rugged wilderness of Judea, the mighty Jordan flowing as a symbol of life and renewal, and John the Baptist, that fiery prophet, standing as a herald of the Kingdom. Multitudes came to him—men and women, rich and poor, the broken and the seeking—drawn by the Spirit of God to confess their sins and be baptized. What moved them, you may ask? It was the recognition of their need, the weight of their transgressions, and the promise of a new beginning. They came not in pride but in humility, not with excuses but with open hearts, laying bare their failings before God and man. This act of confession, coupled with the waters of baptism, was no mere ritual; it was a profound surrender, a turning from self to Savior, a public declaration that they desired to be made new.

O my brothers and sisters, do you not see the mirror held before us in this sacred text? The Jordan still flows, not merely as a river in a distant land but as the ever-present grace of God, inviting us to come, to confess, to be cleansed. For what is sin but that which separates us from the love of God? It is the burden we carry, the chains we forge, the shadows that obscure the light of His countenance. Yet, in Matthew 3:6, we behold the remedy: confession, the humbling of the heart before God, and baptism, the outward sign of an inward transformation. These are not works to earn salvation, for salvation is the gift of God through Christ alone, but they are responses to His grace, steps of obedience that align our hearts with His eternal purpose.

Let us ponder the courage of those who came to John. To confess one’s sins is no small thing. It requires the laying down of pride, the stripping away of pretense, the willingness to stand vulnerable before God and others. Yet, in that vulnerability lies freedom. The psalmist declares, “If I regard iniquity in my heart, the Lord will not hear me” (Psalm 66:18), but when we confess, when we bring our sins into the light, we find mercy. As the Apostle John assures us, “If we confess our sins, He is faithful and just to forgive us our sins, and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness” (1 John 1:9). The people at the Jordan understood this truth, and their confession was met with the waters of baptism, a symbol of God’s cleansing power, a foretaste of the greater baptism of the Holy Spirit that Christ would bring.

Beloved, this call to confession and repentance is not for a select few but for all. The Gospel knows no boundaries, no distinctions of class or creed. The same Spirit that drew the crowds to John draws us today, urging us to examine our hearts, to lay aside every weight, and to run with patience the race set before us. Perhaps you stand afar off, thinking your sins too great, your heart too stained for such grace. Hear me, dear soul: the Jordan was not for the righteous but for sinners, and the arms of Christ are open wide to receive all who come to Him in faith. The thief on the cross, the woman at the well, the prodigal son—all found mercy, and so shall you, if you but turn to Him.

Let us also consider the fruit of such repentance. The confession and baptism at the Jordan were not ends in themselves but the beginning of a new life. Those who were baptized went forth to prepare for the coming of the Messiah, to live as people of the Kingdom. So it is with us. Confession and baptism are doorways to a life transformed, a life marked by love, holiness, and devotion to God. As the Apostle Paul exhorts, “Therefore if any man be in Christ, he is a new creature: old things are passed away; behold, all things are become new” (2 Corinthians 5:17). The waters of baptism signify not only the washing away of sin but the rising to walk in newness of life, empowered by the Spirit, guided by the Word, and sustained by the fellowship of the saints.

O church of God, let us not grow weary in this sacred calling! The world around us groans under the weight of sin, and hearts cry out for hope. We are ambassadors of Christ, bearers of the good news that there is a Jordan for every soul, a place of repentance, a fountain of grace. Let us proclaim this message with boldness and compassion, inviting all to come, to confess, to be baptized, and to find life in Christ. And let us, who have tasted this mercy, never cease to return to the waters of grace in our hearts, daily confessing our need, daily seeking His cleansing, daily walking in His light.

I charge you, therefore, in the sight of God and of Christ Jesus, who shall judge the quick and the dead: examine your hearts, confess your sins, and renew your commitment to the Lord. If you have not yet been baptized, delay no longer, for it is the answer of a good conscience toward God (1 Peter 3:21). If you have wandered, return to the One who waits with open arms. And if you stand firm, pray for your brothers and sisters, that we may all be one in Christ, a holy people, a royal priesthood, a light to the nations.

Now unto Him that is able to keep you from falling, and to present you faultless before the presence of His glory with exceeding joy, to the only wise God our Savior, be glory and majesty, dominion and power, both now and ever. Amen.

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O Most High God, Fountain of mercy and Judge of all flesh, we lift our hearts to You in holy reverence, for You are the God who searches the inward parts and requires truth in the hidden place. As in the days of John the Baptist, when multitudes came to the banks of the Jordan, confessing their sins and surrendering themselves to the waters of repentance, so now we come before You, longing for that same cleansing, that same turning, that same yielding of the soul to the refining fire of Your holiness.

You who dwell in unapproachable light yet stoop low to hear the brokenhearted, incline Your ear to us. For we too have heard the cry in the wilderness. We have heard the voice that calls out not with flattery but with fire, not with the wisdom of men but with the authority of heaven: “Repent, for the kingdom of heaven is at hand.” And in that voice, Lord, we discern the echo of eternity, the call that precedes the King, the alarm that awakens the sleeping and beckons the wandering home. Let that voice sound again in our hearts, not as a distant memory but as a living word. Let it break our pride, shake our illusions, and draw us into the river of Your mercy.

O God, we confess that we have sinned. Not with lips alone but with the full weight of our hearts we declare our agreement with Your righteous judgment. We have trusted in ourselves and leaned upon our own understanding. We have cloaked our rebellion with religion, and adorned our idols with language of devotion. We have sought the praise of men more than the pleasure of Your presence. We have neglected the secret place and made peace with sin. But now, O Lord, we come out from the shadows. We come as they came, not hiding our shame, but bringing it into the light. We bring our pride, our envy, our lust, our bitterness. We bring our secret resentments and our public facades. We lay them down at Your feet—not to be excused, but to be cleansed.

Baptize us anew, not merely in water but in repentance. Let the Jordan rise over our stubborn hearts and carry away all falsehood. Let it be unto us a burial—a dying to the old man, a drowning of our self-sufficiency, a relinquishing of every chain we have forged with our own hands. And let us rise again, dripping with grace, consecrated unto righteousness, ready for the coming of the Lamb. For this is no small thing we ask—not the comfort of a better life but the crucifixion of the old nature. Not a spiritual upgrade but a total transformation. Strip us of all pretenses, burn away all dross, and give us hearts that tremble at Your Word.

And Lord, let our confession be more than words. Let it be a posture, a way of life, a daily bowing low before the majesty of Your holiness. Teach us that repentance is not a moment but a road, a pilgrimage of soul that never outgrows its need for grace. May we never graduate from the place of contrition, nor wander far from the waters where we first laid down our guilt. Let the memory of mercy never fade from us, but burn like a lamp within, guiding us through every shadow.

O Christ, You who stood in those very waters, though You had no sin to confess, who sanctified the baptism of John by Your perfect submission—stand now with us. Let Your righteousness be our covering, Your humility our example, Your Spirit our fire. Teach us to bear fruit worthy of repentance, not to prove ourselves to men, but to reflect the transforming power of Your love. Let our lives become living sermons, proclamations of the gospel without words, testimonies that the same Spirit who raised Jesus from the dead is at work in us.

And now, Father, having confessed, having come to the river, having bent low beneath the weight of Your truth, we ask for renewal. Not a touch, but a re-creation. Breathe into us, as You did in the beginning. Mark us with the seal of heaven, that we may no longer walk as children of darkness but as sons and daughters of light. Let there be no part of us withheld, no corner of the heart left untouched, no habit protected from Your sanctifying flame. Consume us, not unto destruction, but unto devotion.

Let the Church rise again in the spirit of repentance. Let pulpits thunder with truth, pews be filled with weeping, and prayer closets echo with contrition. Not so that men may boast of revival, but that heaven may rejoice over sinners made whole. Let it begin with us, Lord. Let it begin with me. Make me the first to confess, the first to break, the first to return to You with fasting and weeping and mourning. And then, O God of mercy, rend the heavens and come down. Let the wilderness once more become a place of glory. Let the voice once more cry aloud, and let all who hear it come running to the river.

For Yours is the kingdom, and the power, and the glory forever. Amen.