It happened decades ago, but I remember the baptisms of our two children. They went under the water of Echo Lake in the name of the Father, Son and Holy Spirit, and they came up coated with green algae. It hung from them in strings, like summer tinsel. Their father baptized them both, and he also emerged with a green coating.
I remember my own baptism too. That took place in Richmond, B.C. The pastor, who knew me well (as husbands tend to do) threatened to put ice cubes in the water, but recanted at the last moment.
Last summer, our pastor son-in-law dipped our friend Wayne into the shallow waters of Good Spirit Lake. He came up wet in body, peaceful in spirit and with no algae.
In the Christian faith, baptism stands tall; not as a means of salvation, but an obedient step on the spiritual journey. Jesus himself was baptized by his cousin John the Baptist and though he never commanded it outright, when he instructed his disciples, Jesus urged them to make disciples too, “baptizing them in the name of the Father, Son and Holy Spirit” (Matthew 28:19).
You have to walk a long way to reach water deep enough to be dunked in Good Spirit Lake. Those of us standing on the shore couldn’t hear it, but I knew the words the pastor spoke just before he put Wayne under the water. “In the Name of the Father, Son and Holy Spirit...” Just like Jesus instructed.
A few dozen of Wayne’s friends and relatives gathered on the beach; witnesses to his public statement of faith. I spoke to him later. He stood on the shore, towel clad, still dripping. He hugged me, his smile wide. Thanked me for coming. “God has begun a good work in you,” I told him. “You can trust him to complete it.”
Just before his baptism, Wayne had knelt on the beach. Pastor Kendall stood over him and prayed. Only then did I notice Wayne’s orange shirt. It reminded me of something I wished I could forget.
On a Mediterranean coastline, just a few months earlier, a long line of men – also wearing orange – took the same kneeling posture as Wayne did. They included young men like him. Intelligent. Full of sweet life and faith in Christ. Fathers, brothers, sons. Behind each of them stood, not a loving pastor like the Preacher or Pastor Kendall, but bloodthirsty ISIS members wearing black. Executioners, wielding long knives.
Moments later the kneeling men died for a living faith they refused to deny in a loving Saviour they determined not to set aside, even knowing it meant the loss of their lives. Those men experienced in reality the very thing water baptism signifies: a death to self, and the promise of new life through the belief in the Father, Son and the Holy Spirit.
I believe God kept his promise. He always does.
