I was baptised the Sunday after Easter several, well many, years ago.
Did I understand what it all meant? Do I now?
No, but I do know that I really wanted, and didn't want, to do it.
I gripped the back of the wooden pew and had a bit of a fight with myself. I had done this before. No one was pressuring me. No one even knew the battle was waging. I tend to make up my own mind about such things. This decision needed me to make up my mind. It was bigger than joining a club or singing up for a subscription to some publication I could cancel if I wanted to later.
This was a surrender.
All of that came back to me as I read a mother's version of watching her daughter make this same choice.
So much of my faith involves things I hope people won't ask me about. I'm not ashamed of the Gospel, of my God or His Son Jesus, but you have to admit, dying to live sounds odd.
Then again, I've seen a version of such death in the lives of many of my friends who have children.
I see it again in many friends who live for their work, sacrificing more than they realise to be used up by a company who might give them a watch, or at least morning tea, when they leave.
I see a version of it in friends who chuck in all their friends for their one new love, only to wonder where everybody went when they are alone again.
Or how about the sports star or film star who runs out of fame?
There are all kinds of worship.
There are lots of things we can die for. I'll die for life.
Did I understand what it all meant? Do I now?
No, but I do know that I really wanted, and didn't want, to do it.
I gripped the back of the wooden pew and had a bit of a fight with myself. I had done this before. No one was pressuring me. No one even knew the battle was waging. I tend to make up my own mind about such things. This decision needed me to make up my mind. It was bigger than joining a club or singing up for a subscription to some publication I could cancel if I wanted to later.
This was a surrender.
All of that came back to me as I read a mother's version of watching her daughter make this same choice.
". . . for a Christian, identity is never about figuring out who he is —- but accepting Whose he is.Sounds pretty wacky to those who've not been there, but God excels in wacky things. Just read the Bible for examples.
"Christians are the walking dead, fully —and only — alive in Christ. That that is what the Easter People really are: Rotting cadavers to the flesh, resurrected Christs in the faith.
To be baptized is to publicly and permanently proclaim Christ as sovereign, Saviour, and all your satisfaction. "From Holy Experience, by a Canadian mum and blogger.
So much of my faith involves things I hope people won't ask me about. I'm not ashamed of the Gospel, of my God or His Son Jesus, but you have to admit, dying to live sounds odd.
Then again, I've seen a version of such death in the lives of many of my friends who have children.
I see it again in many friends who live for their work, sacrificing more than they realise to be used up by a company who might give them a watch, or at least morning tea, when they leave.
I see a version of it in friends who chuck in all their friends for their one new love, only to wonder where everybody went when they are alone again.
Or how about the sports star or film star who runs out of fame?
There are all kinds of worship.
There are lots of things we can die for. I'll die for life.
I have been crucified with Christ and I no longer live, but Christ lives in me. The life I live in the body, I live by faith in the Son of God, who loved me and gave himself for me.Galatians 2:20
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