About 3,000 were added in baptism! In the awful year of Covid death counts it feels good to count something wonderful instead!
At my baptism in 1975 I was dunked along with only 6 other candidates, aged about 12 to 65. We wore white robes over swimsuits. We were very quietly lined up behind the sanctuary partition. It was chilly. I was a swim team veteran so going under water didn’t bother me. I don’t remember what I expected, but I do remember feeling…better. Relieved. I had done what my group of folks saw was the signal that I was a follower of Jesus, and I was saved.
It had taken the Holy Ghost three tries to save me – once as a kid at Camp Mundo Vista in a terrible thunderstorm when our zealous teenage camp leaders saw their chance and scared the fear of God into their whole cabin of 9 year olds; again at a Bill Glass Crusade when an undeniable pull led me down the entire length of the Winston-Salem coliseum to the altar call. And then the third time finally took, when I walked the aisle of Knollwood and took my minister’s hand to join the church. “I’m happy,” he said. (I’m stubborn, I thought.)
It has happened to each of us – coming up from baptismal water, or wiping off the font’s sprinkle. Like Peter’s sermon crowd who realized they needed saving, we have felt better. Relieved. It’s fun to hear a person’s baptism tale – each so different! Tales of Wetness. What is yours? Go wash your hands again and remember it as the water spills over you. Let it bless you again.
Prayer:
O Holy One, refresh us, renew us, and dissolve us: one with Your Spirit. Amen.
