Baptized by Pain and Joy

In my own faith tradition, there are two ordinances. That’s a fancy way of saying special, sacred acts. Those are baptism and communion. Being a pastor for almost ten years, I have taught a fair share of baptism classes. I shared about the importance of baptism, how we declare our faith in Jesus when we get baptized, and how we are baptized in the name of the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Spirit. I know how to show someone how to cross their arms across their chest, so the pastor and grab hold and dunk someone under the water, and what’s the proper execution of nose pinching to assure that you don’t accidentally clean out your sinuses on the way down. I could teach these classes forwards and backwards.

                  What is unique to certain faith traditions is to be baptism by immersion. That means that you are completely sunken under the water. Not all faith traditions baptize like this, but I’ve always liked it. I liked the idea that when you are getting baptized, you are completely drenched from head to toe. See, standing in the pool represents entering the grave. When you are brought back into the water, it’s representative of dying to yourself. When you are under the water, it’s representing you being buried. When you come back up, it’s representing your resurrected self in Christ. To me, being completely covered in the water is showing how we are now drenched in the Spirit of God ready to carry out His will for us. This moment, as baptism is also supposed to be done publicly, now shows others physically, what has happened spiritually. It’s saying, as I am standing before you soaked in this water, the Holy Spirit has completely covered me inside. It’s a fundamental change to who we are.

                  I realized that major changes to who we are not always so public. I know an incredibly sweet thirteen-year-old girl who has been fundamentally changed. Not because of her baptism, but because her father touched her inappropriately. I know a guy who was severally betrayed by his best friend and now feels like he is constantly looking over his shoulder for the next person who is going to betray him. I know a couple who had their own individual trauma begin to heal when they went to therapy and helped each other through their own pain.

                  Each one of these people have been baptized; their lives have been fundamentally changed. What has happened to them on the outside, or to their own selves, have affected them on the inside, within their spirits.

                  Author Rachel Held Evans in her book Searching For Sunday, shares about how her faith was marked by both beautiful and harmful things, but all of them have baptized her. She then lists out all these people and events that fundamentally changed who she is. So here is my attempt to do the same:

I was baptized by a hardworking, emotionally trying father.

by an artistic, gentle mother, and

by two beautiful feminist sisters.

I was baptized by Salsa music on Saturday mornings,

by arroz y gandules,

And by Goya seasoning being the base to all flavoring.

I was baptized by Calvary Temple International

by Marlton Assembly of God,

by Harvest Church, and

by Fountain of Life Center.

I was baptized by Dashboard Confessional,

Say Anything, and

Taking Back Sunday.

I was baptized by French techno pop,

the Arctic Monkeys, and

Vampire Weekend.

I was baptized by a bully.

I was baptized by tears.

I was baptized by blood running down my arm from cutting myself.

I was baptized by a mediocre therapist,

a really sucky therapist and finally by an amazing therapist.

I was baptized by diagnoses that gave me verbiage for issues I couldn’t articulate.

I was baptized by people who loved me well,

by people who loved me less than well, and

by people who tried to love me with their political party in mind.

I was baptized by Rich Villodas, David Docusen,

Latasha Morrison, John Mark Comer,

Tim Mackie, and other pastors that are between me and my God.

I was baptized by a fiery wife and

A confident toddler with more emotional intelligence than most adults I know.

I was baptized by needles piercing my wife’s stomach and more “Mommy is going to the doctor to get her tummy looked at” than I care to admit.

I was baptized by New Jersey.

I was baptized by shore, but not the beach.

I was baptized by Pork Roll, but not Taylor Ham.

I was baptized by all these things. So, when I hear a knock at the door, I open it confidently. I see pain and fear; I see joy and laughter. And I say to each of them, “Come in. Take your shoes off. Find a seat on the couch. You are all welcomed here.”