Baptism has long been the sacrament that most pulls my heart and centers me in God's good and all abounding grace. There is something about not only watching but participating within a promise to uphold a child, to love and support them, to nurture and care for them that brings an intimacy within church that often feels abandoned.
Growing up within a UMC I became very familiar with infant baptism and although older children and adults were baptized (including some of my own family) within my church the beauty of baptism has long grown out of those moments watching a small child being cooed in front of the congregation as hearts unite and voices join together making angelic promises to love this child, this child of God, with all one has- for as long as one has. The communal promise, the covenantal promise, made within baptism in the UMC has long captivated my heart.
Although I do not clearly recall my baptism as a child I often find myself closing my eyes and imagining the hands of "PB" (my beloved mentor, preacher, friend) pouring cool water upon my head and inviting the church, the family, to hug me with their words and to embrace me with their prayers forever.
As a (newly established) children and family minister baptism has become by far one of the most holy offerings in church. Just a few weeks ago I was invited to join in on the baptism of two beautiful girls and one sweet baby boy. All of the kiddos ranged within the three- sixth month range. The baptism began just after the opening hymn - the space took on a new sacred. I walked over to the baptismal fount where I picked up one of the proud big brothers to pour in the water as blessings flowed from the pastor's lips. As she, the pastor, spoke to the power of the water the young boy's eyes sparkled- he did not know what exactly he was doing, outside of enjoying playing in the water, but he knew that this moment was important for the babies. As we had practiced this moment before church he reminded me that the water was critical as he reminded me something along the lines of - do not spill it. He knew his job was important. In his pouring the water he was making a promise of his own.
After the water was poured it was time for the infants to be blessed in the waters. One by one the babes were passed from their parents arms into those of my friend as her eyes twinkled blessing the babes and promising, inviting us all to promise, that we would not forget the water pouring upon their heads. Babies crying and cooing the service continued.
It was finally time for the sweet baby boy to be blessed and as the waters were poured on his head it was my job to hold him. The light waters of baptism felt a bit heavier to me that morning as they dripped from his face upon my hands. The waters hitting my hands beckoned me to recall my own baptism like never before. As the small tear like stream flowed from his face upon my hands I could not tell what was his own salty tear and what was the water of baptism - and it did not matter. The congregation joined together, the family joined together, in words of assurance that carried a weight I had never taken time to fully accept, at least not like I was on this blistering hot July morning…
Together, babies crying, water dripping down their faces upon their freshly pressed white robes and onto our hands we all said:
Through baptism
you are incorporated by the Holy Spirit
into God's new creation
and made to share in Christ's royal priesthood.
We are all one in Christ Jesus.
With joy and thanksgiving we welcome you
as members of the family of Christ.
We promised these children promises that take away my breath to really think them through telling them:
You are welcome here. You are wanted here. You are loved here. You are part of the family and in this family we are not leaving anyone behind. Good or bad, up or down, we are in this together.
After promises were made on behalf of the family and the congregation the babies were to be walked around the sanctuary as the room filled with angelic singing of an ancient hymn and the very loud cry of one of the sweet baby girls…. who ironically enough- stopped her shouting the moment she was back to her mama's arms! Walking the sweet babies around the room I found my heart racing and eyes tearing up as the smiles of those gathered, young and old, greeted these children with eyes a fresh to the promises they had just made. Perhaps I was the only one who had never really thought about how deep these words we had shared in baptism were before…
Walking back towards the front of the room as the hymn was coming to a close I was nearly blocked off by an eager young boy who wanted to see the baby for himself. He reached out to the small child I embraced in my arms and as I bent down to let the two boys make eye contact he looked at the baby and simply said, "How cute. We love him."
How cute.
We love him.
What a promise I thought. That is the promise. An intimate promise that crosses boundaries and frustrations. An intimate promises that walks miles and holds hands in silence. An inmate promise that holds hands and changes diapers. We love him. We promise to love them all. Good or bad, up or down, because we are a family. And in this family, in God's great big family, no one is not important and these promises - these water dripping, refreshing promises, they last a life time.
Ever since this baptismal experience I have found myself reflecting more on my own baptism. I do not recall who was were or what was said or just how cold the water was or how I reacted but I do know that the same folks who stood in the pews and promised to love me, good or bad, have stood up to their promise. Baking my favorite foods after hospital stays, saying prayers with me over the phone, taking me to dinner and birthday shopping trips, listening to my tired talkative self at late night lock-ins. Reminding me that God's good grace abounds hard things like loosing family members and wondering why my own leg wouldn't even work the right way sometimes. I recall PB standing with me after the funeral of my uncle and telling me that he knew he loved me and God still loved me. I can all but still feel the warm arms of one of my church grandpas embracing me each Sunday as if he had found a long lost relative whom all he wanted was to hug. I can feel the pains of deep laughter brought to me by one of my dearest friends and I as we painted banners for nearly everything the church ever had as young girls who just knew we knew how the church should run (joke is on us as we both now work in the church and are learning the real ways churches are ran).
Today I pray that I can live into the baptismal vows like never before for these children, for my baby cousins, for all of the baptisms I have joined within as a member of God's great big family, for my family and my friends- to be there and to be loving. To be there and to be supportive. Just to be there.
As I remember the waters of my baptism I am thankful and I am refreshed by God's grace that wrapped itself around me in those sprinkling waters and am thankful for the waters that continue to wrap and envelop me in God's good love and ever present grace.
Through baptism
we are incorporated by the Holy Spirit
into God's new creation
we are made to share in Christ's royal priesthood.
We are all one in Christ Jesus.
With joy and thanksgiving we are all, always, welcomed as members of the family of Christ.
With joy and thanksgiving may we all, always, welcome and embrace all members of God's great big family.
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