Remember
your baptism and be thankful.
I
was baptized as an infant. My parents
were United Methodists, and our "tribe" baptizes infants, so that's what happened—not that I remember it. Not so much as a photo survives that I am aware of.
When I was a senior in college I got involved
in a church that required new members to be baptized. Do I remember that moment? Well, certainly more than I remember about
the first time. It was a March 28,
1993—a chilly early spring day as I recall, and this group did baptism by full
immersion. But honestly, other facts about the day that you would think I might
remember—like exactly who was present that day—I do not recall. For example, while I could tell you some
people's names whom I'm pretty sure were there, I honestly don't have too many
vivid memories of the event. What I
remember most was being "dunked" in icy cold water. I also remember calling my parents the night
I was baptized to tell them I was "getting baptized". The specific conversation happened nearly 24
years ago but I recall the gist of it was as follows:
"Mom, dad. I've decided to get
baptized."
"Really, son. Why?", my dad responded, clearly
sounding worried.
"I've gotten
involved in a new church now and I really want to do it." (My parents
probably thought: Oh no, what cult has he joined?)
"But son, you are already baptized."
(My dad was a good United Methodist!)
"Yeah. But I don't remember it at all, and I don't
know how much impact it had on me. When
I was a baby it was your decision, but this time it's mine."
For
a while, I think I would've told you that the baptism that "really
counted" was the one I experienced in college. That was the point in my life when the faith
(i.e., the UM faith I sort of inherited from my parents) began to become my
faith. I became more active in
practicing my faith; I ventured out of the familiar boundaries of the church I
grew up in and experienced new expressions of faith that, while strange to me
at first, I grew to appreciate and embrace.
My faith moved further and further away from that of my family of
origin.
But
God has a sense of humor. I didn't stay
with the church that baptized me for very long. Suffice to say it just wasn't a
good situation for me at the time...
Eventually I found my way into another non-denominational church that I
really liked. (No, I did not do a third
baptism!) I was happily
worshipping there when I met this woman online—who just happened to be a UM
pastor. In time, she ended up becoming my wife and my spiritual journey came
"full circle" as I returned to worship in the UM church when we got
married.
When
I told my wife about my experience in college, it set off some interesting
theological debates between us. Why
did I feel the need to be "baptized again"? Because I don't remember my
baptism. But just because you don't remember
it, does that mean it wasn't real? Well,
maybe not. Was I so sinful I needed
two events before "salvation would stick to me? No... of course not. As a good UM Elder,
Laurie has reminded me frequently over the years of the theological position of
the UM church: "We don't rebaptize; we remember
frequently—but we never redo" .
My
wife can't remember the moment of her infant baptism either,
nevertheless she will emphatically tell you that she feels baptized and,
to her, that is what matters most .
So when was I baptized? The time I can't consciously remember when I was an infant or the time I do remember (at least somewhat) when I was older? Or should I go around calling myself, Alan, the twice-baptized—a.k.a., the United Methodist rebel?
Now
I can't honestly say I lost lots of sleep over this over the years. My wife spent her whole life as a UM, even
going so far as to be ordained a UM pastor, but my spiritual journey has taken
me to other types of churches, and I have incorporated aspects of various
"streams" of Christianity into my faith practice. And there are some whose theological position
would be that my decision to be "rebaptized" as an adult, i.e.,
despite being baptized previously, was completely appropriate.
What
I ultimately think I've realized is that baptism is less about remembering a moment
and more about making a lifetime commitment to follow Jesus.
In
the UM church, every year in early January there is a Sunday set aside for
Baptismal Renewal. On that day, we
remember Jesus' baptism and our baptisms, and we are thankful. This year, the Gospel text for the day was
Matthew's account of the story—which also appears in Mark and Luke. The Gospel
of Matthew's author and target audience were likely part of an early community
of Jewish followers of Jesus. The
writer emphasizes the fact Jesus is the King of the Jews—the
"heir" to David in the Messianic line, so he presents the baptism of
Jesus as a symbolic anointing of the "new king"—see Matthew
3:13-17. Jesus comes to John in the
wilderness where he has been baptizing and submits himself to the same ritual
of purification that every disciple of John the Baptist went
through. But it soon becomes clear this
is no ordinary baptism. As Jesus comes
up out of the water the Spirit descends "in bodily form like a dove"
upon him and a voice is heard speaking: "This is my Son the beloved."
In
this passage we have both the moment of baptism portrayed and the symbolism of
a lifelong commitment. We also witness
the ongoing three-way interplay between the members of the Trinity: the Son is
in the water "being baptized", the Spirit is descends like a dove,
and the voice of the Father speaks.
We
see that community is absolutely critical context for both the moment of
baptism and for living out a baptized life. The Trinity has always existed as
a form of three-in-one Divine community—and they are all "present" to
witness the baptism of Jesus. Perhaps this is why, during his earthly life,
Jesus chose to assemble a community of followers around him to help one another
live out their baptisms. Jesus was used
to being in community with the Trinity.
So if Jesus needed community to live out his vows it stands
to reason so do we. Baptism is not meant to be "one-time" event we do
and then we go on living our lives independently—although I am afraid too many
people think of it more as a "ticket to heaven when they die" than as
a "commitment to a journey of discipleship". But we are actually making serious vows to
the community either ourselves or on behalf of our child; vows God expects us
to honor. Baptism is one of two
sacraments in the UM tradition (and is a sacrament in most traditions); it is
often called an outward sign of an inward grace, i.e., it shows on the outside
what God is doing on the inside of us. We could think of it as a
"coming out" party for a follower of Christ, when we "go
public" and acknowledge to our community the work that God has been doing
within us and ask for their help to continue to live out our baptized
life. Such a commitment is not something
we should take lightly.
If
the moment of baptism is early in life, parents typically make vows on behalf
of their child. They ask the community
to help them nurture the child in faith until he/she is ready to take
responsibility for his/her own spiritual journey—we UMs call that moment in
time, confirmation. (Other
traditions will dedicate an infant to God, but the moment of baptism is
reserved until the person is older and can make the choice themselves). Even if we're older when the moment of
baptism happens, though, the vows we make still require the context of a
community to help us live them out. It's
as if we need the friction of real life to move the promises we make
from abstract theological ideas to lived reality.
While
purification (justifying grace) may happen in a moment, sanctification (sanctifying
grace) is a lifelong journey.
Often
there is a moment in time that we can remember "being baptized"—like
my icy immersion in college—but my story also shows we aren't always able to
pinpoint the "exact moment" when purification happened and
that the memory of the moment can fade with the passage of time. UMs believe that God's prevenient grace
is at work in us even before we are consciously aware of it. The moment of baptism might be compared to a
wedding ceremony. The typical couple
coming to the altar to be married has begun building a life together before the
wedding day; likewise, after the wedding ceremony ends, the real work begins as
the lifetime commitment of building a marriage begins. Similarly, the baptized life often begins
within someone prior to the moment of public acknowledgment (being baptized),
and often ends long after the memory of the moment has faded.
So,
again I ask: When was I baptized?
Looking back, I think my moment was probably as an infant—and I reaffirmed
my commitment in college. My wife can be
persuasive. :) The second time was more about what I wanted to do (and what
others wanted me to do or said I had to do) to mark the occasion. God didn't
"require" what I chose to do that night no matter how memorable it
was. It wasn't wrong; it just wasn't
strictly necessary. God had already
claimed me long ago—and had been working in me for years. God at bought me to that icy baptistry
somewhere near the University of Maryland campus nearly 24 years ago, and God
has been with me on my journey ever since.
I've
come to realize that more important than knowing the exact moment in time
when I was baptized is knowing without a doubt that I am baptized—and living
life like it's true.
Pastor
and author Nadia Bolz–Weber says that when the darkness threatens to
consume her, she cries out: "I am baptized!" She does this to remind herself who she is
and whose she is—that God has named her and claimed her. Paul likewise reminded the believers
in Galatia who they were and whose they were when he said: "I've been
crucified with Christ but I'm alive for Christ is raised and now he lives in
me. The life I live I live by faith in the risen son of God, who loves me and
gave himself for me"—Galatians 2:19-20.
Baptism is a life.
I was baptized—I am
baptized—I will always be baptized.
I am who I am through "I Am"
who lives in me.
