Ahold

Even I was hesitant about his baptism and confirmation. I'm quite generous when it comes to sharing in the sacraments and have received lots of raised eyebrows and occasional verbal criticism over the years about it. But this one was stretching me.

This kid had only come to church once or twice before and a couple of years had passed since he'd been to one of our activities. Though his age was still noted in single digits, he had a bit of a challenged reputation throughout the community. I wasn't sure if he had any idea of what the sacraments of baptism and confirmation were about.

But he showed up carrying a towel and change of clothes that morning, as did his cousins who were scheduled to be baptized. Grandma said she'd been teaching him about Jesus and the Bible and that he was ready. With her teaching, I felt even more confident that he really didn't know what this was all about.

At that point, with the service ready to start, I figured that trying to explain my hesitations and requesting he wait for either sacrament would cause confusion and division within the family. More harm would come from not doing as he and his grandmother requested so a little later in the hour he was baptized and confirmed along with his cousins.

Nearly a month later I was hanging out with the guys at the local Laundromat. While visiting, one asked me if I knew, or at least knew of, this kid. When I said, "Yes," they started to shake their heads in frustration over him and his situation.

But then a couple of the men excitedly interrupted to ask the others if they had seen him lately.

"Something must have happened to him a few weeks back," they noted. "It's like something got ahold of him. Yeah, like something really good got ahold of him. He's just different somehow -- and in a good way!"

They didn't know that he'd been baptized. They didn't know of the prayer confirming the Holy Spirit's presence in a new way in his life. They only knew that something really good had gotten ahold of him.

I have to wonder how many times I've let my fears about what other people might think and my own self doubt become barriers to the Spirit taking ahold of someone or something in my life. When did I think I was too good or too smart or too something -- anything -- to guide them to the Living Water? When did I think I was not good enough or not smart enough or not something -- anything -- to bring a confirmation of the presence of God in a situation?

My list of when the fears and doubts ruled the day dwarfs the few times I've gotten it right. But there is One who, despite my disconnect, my cluelessness, my misinformation, and my reputation invites me into His presence. And though I never really know what He's up to, I always seem to leave having had another drink from his fountain and being blessed by his touch.

I think he still has a little hope in me. And maybe if I faithfully hold tight enough to this hope, someone, even if it's just me the midst of all my dirty laundry, will note that something Good has gotten ahold of me.

Lord, let my hope be in You alone.

Even

He'd listened to the message attentively enough to have a question for me afterward. That always does my heart some good.

His question?

"Do you mean that even I can get baptized?"

Yes. That was the heart of the message. God loves all of us, offers forgiveness to all of us, and invites us all to the waters of baptism in sacramental relationship with Him. Through it he could fully become a member of the church.

That was a question that my middle-class self had never really pondered.

Even I?

I come from a world where opportunity abounds. I come from a world where inclusion is expected to the point of it being my right to belong. In my world I expect to have a variety of choices of groups who all would (or should) want me to be a member.

And in my world sin seems to have limitations. We describe our sinful state with terms like "issues" or "things I struggle with" or "personal weaknesses." Our past behaviors are referred to "youthful indiscretions" or "lapses in judgment." If many people like me are enmeshed in a particular sin, ranging from racism to "fudging" on our taxes, we say something like "that's just how things are" or "that's what everyone does."

My middle class world also has the resources to cover up or deal with our oft unnamed sin. We have financial resources that pay for rehab or cut a child support check each month. We have educational and emotional and family resources that help us navigate through sin-induced crises. We have social resources with polite company that help keep skeletons safely in our closets.

But he didn't have any of these things. His sin, both by nature and actions, had been lived out publicly. They had cost him dearly. There was no glossing over them and no one to pick up the pieces. He bore the scars and carried the stigma of his sin.

Plus, his was not a world full of opportunity. It was a world where exclusion was the norm and any hopes of inclusion had been dead so long that he didn't really remember that that even existed. He never felt that any group had ever wanted him to be a member.

So to be invited, to be welcome, to be included was radical. The hope of forgiveness was true liberation.

This makes me wonder how even I could have been baptized. With my privileged birthright and social safety net, with help in the waiting for my next crisis and my (if I were willing to admit them) skeletons in my closet, could I have even begun to grasp the magnitude of this sacrament?

Even I?

If I were attentive to my own and my social class's sinfulness, might I be more able to fully engage in the radical liberation of the Christ?

That would really do my heart some good.

Lord, free me from the things that keep me captive.

Red

I was relieved when he came into church that night wearing a new red shirt. I'd never seen him wear red before nor have I seen him in red since. I hadn't asked him to do so but it was exactly what he needed to wear.

Turn the clock back about two and a half hours when a kid sitting on the floor of the church yelled, "Ouch!"

I went over to the kid to see what was wrong.

"It's hot!" he said, pointing to the font.

It was the first time I'd used the heater on the font and was unsure of exactly how well it worked. Now the metal sides of the font were painfully hot to the touch.

This was not good.

So, we unplugged the heater and removed the table we'd used as a lid in hopes that the water would cool before the service.

Only then did we learn that the tabletop has once been painted red. The steamy water had leached all the pigments out of it.

Yes, that's right. We had bright red scalding hot water in the font with no way to drain and refill it in time for the service.

So during the time between the services I did all I could think to do. I opened the front door to let the January air into the building in hopes of cooling things down. I set my sermon aside and frantically flipped through the Bible seeing if I could somehow have a message that involved either the Red Sea or being "baptized in the blood" or both.

But with his coming to church in a red shirt and the water cooling off to that of bathwater I was able to switch back to the sermon I had prepared in advance.

During that message each person was given a hard, crumbling piece of clay. They then got to quickly dip their clay into a bowl of water and continue working with it. The newly pliable clay was now able to be shaped and molded into something it couldn't have been before.

I remembered my own baptism and my commitment to letting the Potter mold this clay into something He wants. And I thought of my unnecessarily frantic state that afternoon as I had tried to make up for my own ignorance and error.

I realized (for the millionth time) that He still had a lot of molding to do and that I needed to step back and let Him reshape me to serve peacefully in the circumstances I find myself.

Even my panic had been used by Him to let me be shaped in His hands. For He granted me knowledge in how to better use the font's heater and faith in trusting that as I continue to get things wrong He'll surprise us all in bringing about His work.

Be it the parting of the Red Sea or a baptism candidate in a red tee God continues to use the strangest of circumstances in forming his people into a growing vessel for faith and trust. May the waters of my baptism continue to soak in deeply that I might be easily shaped in His hands.

Melt me. Mold me. Fill me. Use me. Spirit of the Living God, fall afresh on me.