Some of my readers may be familiar with my faith journey, the dusty gravel roads, the paved highways, and trail-less forests that I have traveled to get me closer to the one who spoke light in the darkness and came as a baby to ransom my soul. Some may be familiar with the story of how I went from Nazarene to social brethren to free will baptist to reformed to independent to United Methodist to follower of Christ. For those that aren't and are interested lets go out for chai lattes :)
Today at church I took part in something I never have before, at communion time the pastor invited us up to the baptismal fount to remember our baptism. As she dipped her finger into the water and made a drippy cross on my forehead, she said "remember your baptism and be thankful"
I was instantly flooded with memories.
A baptism of birth fluids as I co-caught my first baby, and the inevitable baptism that occurs during water births
A baptism of confidence from those who believe in me despite my fears
A soft spoken pastor who baptized me in prayer back in college when all hope seemed lost "you are a child of hope" he said as he made a cross on my forehead, embracing me, telling me I belonged.
A baptism of tears at a final goodbye, soaking my shoulder, penetrating into my heart.
A baptism of words spoken by a wise future reverend in the middle of a crowded cafeteria
The icy water baptism by the first person I ever called pastor. Plugging my nose and stepping into the pool after my mother and cousins. "In the name of the father, son and Holy Spirit"
My first "baptism" when Jesus came into the heart of a shy 7 year old at VBS.
Today I left church, shivering in remembrance of the waters, words, prayers, and paths that have lead me here.
Today I realize I am like the squalling newborn, surprised by the incomparable blessings poured out over my head and the wild and rocky journey placed in front of my feet.
I remember... And I am thankful
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