Baptism

I don't have too many specific memories of the night I was baptized...

I was eleven or twelve years old at the time. 

It was during a "gospel meeting" (what the Baptists would call a Revival) where we had a guest minister who preached every night for a week. The preacher was Floyd Bonds. I believe the sermon that evening was titled Where Will You Spend Eternity? And the invitation song was "Softly and Tenderly Jesus is Calling." This was at the Watervliet Church of Christ.

I was there with my grandparents, Lester and Cleffie Burford. At that time my parents didn't attend church, but I always went to church with my grandparents, from as far back as I can remember. 

As I recall, the preacher and his wife were staying at my grandparents' house for the week. Or, at least they were there for supper one or more nights that week. I don't remember so much about Brother Bonds. (In the Church of Christ we don't use honorific titles for preachers -- everyone is 'brother' or 'sister' -- at least that's how it used to be. I don't know if it still is or not.) But I remember his wife, Jessie. She was one of those little energetic, perpetually cheerful women. (I'm sure we've all known one or two of them.) Just delightful to be around. 

I remember that after church that evening we went to the home of one of the church members for a party ("fellowship"). 

Well, the reason I thought about this today is that one of the first things I saw on Facebook this morning was a video of a young woman being baptized in a lake or river in Kentucky -- the old-fashioned way. And, much to my surprise, watching that video brought tears to my eyes. So I thought maybe I should pause a minute and reflect on why it affected me like that. 

This is not the video that I watched, but it's very similar. These are photos of my sister-in-law Polly being baptized in Paw Paw Lake by my uncle Morris Burford.

My baptism is not something I think about real often. It's one of those rites of passage that we all go through, those of us who grew up going to church. Yes, it was an important moment in my life. But my life was already steeped in Christianity, so to my mind it's not a particularly outstanding event -- not a matter of real conversion, turning away from a sinful life, or anything like that. It was just a step in the path that I was already on. And even though I was young, I had already figured out that my eternal salvation didn't depend on whether or not I was dunked underwater, or whether or not I was in the 'right' church. I already understood that God wasn't that narrow-minded, and judgment would encompass a much larger picture than that. God looks at the heart, not the church membership rolls.

*End of sermon.*

Well, I wasn't baptized in a lake or river. I was baptized in the baptistry of the church building.

This is not me. This is a Church of Christ baptistry. A lot of them have a scene painted in the background that is supposed to represent the Jordan River, where Jesus was baptized.

*I have this absolute gem among our family photos*