Baptism JOY!

The story continues, thank GOD!  I'm going to share about the weekend that Roy and I got baptized, without all the background of the previous post to clutter it.

After a long drive, we got to our friends' house in Redondo Beach around 9:00 on a Friday night. Of course the kids had tons of energy, so after a brief introduction they got right down to the business of wild playing with Roman and Samuel, who were so sweet in their playing with our little ones.  Roy and I immediately started trying to catch up 3 years with Myra; Mando and their two oldest children, Eden and Sarah, were at a church down the road worshipping with a group of young people.  When they got back we had an awesome time continuing our visit.  Eden and Sarah had matured so markedly from 3 years ago, and what a treat it was to hear a little of what their journey is right now.   

Saturday was rainy and chilly, a good day for staying cozy around the fire.  After a midday nap I realized I was in a spiritual battle which I couldn't fight alone.  I'm not going to share tons of details about that, but suffice it to say that I am slowly learning to recognize these attacks a little bit earlier and rebuke them before they take hold of me, but this time I got hit before I realized it.  I thank God for Roy, for brisk walks in the cold, for tampons and Advil, but mostly for the power of the Spirit which He freely gives along with those other blessings!  

Saturday evening we got to meet who Mando refers to as "soul brother" and his family, who are from Redding (Northern Ca).  We had all converged as guests together, and I feel so privileged that I got to witness long-time friends who are mature in Christ as they share with each other what God's doing in their lives.  I must admit, there was a lingering question in my mind that there may be the "my ministry is more right than yours" unspoken vibe. ( I've seen and felt that so many times, and not only in the cult I was raised in.)  But it wasn't there.  I was so refreshed and encouraged just by seeing and feeling the mutual love and openness between old friends who are following God on different paths.

Sunday morning when I woke up the first thing I saw was the beginning of sunshine.  That was an awesome start!  And yet, the battle for my mind did resume; immediately I went to Jesus with it, and He told me "You search the scriptures because you think they give you eternal life. But the scriptures point to me! Yet you refuse to come to me that you may receive this life!"  And I said, "I know Lord. I don't want to live that way anymore." So many verses were coming into my mind that have been drilled into me to mean "you shouldn't be water baptized", and I was entertaining them because when it's God's Word coming into my mind I naturally want to listen to it. And yet, it wasn't just the words coming to me, it was long, convaluted interpretations and condemnation loaded on as well- things I had already looked into and decided weren't what I wanted to influence my choices.  Things that I knew were taking principles of grace and trying to make them into law.   When Roy woke up I shared with him that the battle in my mind was not yet over; and just by sharing that, it lessened. We then prayed with Mando and Myra, who prayed over twisted scripture being used in my mind to rob God of His glory and rob me of the joy He wants to fill me with as I follow Him.  I saw the fruit of listening to those voices in my head (doubt, confusion, guilt…) and it was clear then that I needed to not give them any air-time;  and when I give myself permission to not listen to the chatter in my mind, it stops. (Which is something I  frequently need to be reminded of.  There are some subjects that I'm just a sucker for!) So we loaded up the cars and headed to the beach. 

 As we went walked down a long slope to the beach I was just drinking in the beauty of the sunny breezy southern California morning, breathing in amazement at God's grace, and breathing out any expectations that began to form.  We had no experience of what this church was like or "about" and here we were showing up to be baptized!  What kind of crazy person does that?! (Insert religious insecurity.) (And Get behind me, religious insecurity.) 

So we started to meet the church on the beach, and immediately I felt a closeness of spirit. There were latent things in my heart (and I know in Roy's too) that were stirred by this gathering. Then we started singing "Hosanna, Hosanna, Hosanna in the highest!" Tears were streaming down my face as I was praying "Yes Jesus!  Save!  Save in every sense of the word! Continue to rescue me from every thing that keeps me from embodying your life!"  One man shared his story of coming to religion to clean up his life, and getting so burnt out after about 5 years of trying that he gave up; then came the persistent, unconditional love of a friend, which caused him to give Jesus a try. Jesus, without religious performance.  (Ah. You already know that I felt like I had found another brother.) The (brief) sermon was about childlike faith.  For this over-thinking, analytical mind it was that delightful breath of truth that God prepared for me, that morning.  During the sermon, I couldn't help but notice a pastor's and others' young children playing in the sand at their parents feet, or running a little ways away and running around, then coming back.  Living out the freedom of being a child, observing the parents' devotion to teaching & learning, being loved on and accepted, and not learning "church behavior".  (Yes, this was one of those things that was stirred….and to be continued another time.) 

By the end of the service (and I use that word loosely) I was fully aware that God had ordered every step that brought me to this place at this time; these were no strangers; these were exactly who God ordained to be witnesses of my public profession of my faith in Jesus.  And the things in my heart that were stirred by the service were no accident either.  What a bigger picture of the church I got that day, which is funny because I thought that I already had a pretty big understanding of Christ's body, but He blew me away again! 

So we waded a little way out into the waves, into God's power, and went down: first Roy, then me.  What joy!  Just being in the ocean always reminds me of how big God is, and how small I am, and this time was no different. With the Pacific at my back, I couldn't help but think of just how extravagant He is in His provisions for me- how simple it is for Him to accomplish things in my life and heart that are monumental from my perspective.  But He is easily able to do far more than I could ever ask or think!

After coming up from the water a man approached Roy and told him that he had videoed the whole thing and wanted to know more about it.  He told Roy that he was just out for a walk on the beach that morning and his interest was piqued.  So Roy asked him if he was a Christian and his response was "Well, I'm trying."  Of course Roy jumped on that and shared with him the good news that he doesn't have to try any more: that God is not looking for a good performer, but for someone to receive His love.     So there in the sand, a seed was planted, and I can't help but wonder if that simple path-crossing might well have been one of the big reasons (in God's eyes) that we went down there at that place, at that time.  

Baptism Baggage

What a huge weekend last weekend was for me.   For the past couple years I've been thinking about, studying, and praying about being water baptized.  And it finally happened!   In the ocean. In December. In the Northern Hemisphere.  (I share that not to brag, but to reiterate "resist the devil, and he will flee from you."  Early early on Sunday morning I had started thinking` about how cold it may be, and how silly it would be if one of us got hypothermia, and maybe this was a really dumb idea, along with many other doubtful thoughts. So I share that it happened when and where it did as a simple Take That, Satan.  It wasn't cold, no one got hypothermia, and it wasn't silly. No, in fact, ole' deceiver, your last ditch effort to dissuade me was silly.)  Another doubt that morning was, maybe I forced the timing by driving to LA to meet up with our friends, rather than waiting till God happened to have us in the same vicinity.  That's a huge concept to wrestle with (God's sovereignty versus my participation) and I knew that it wasn't something I was likely to be able to get my mind around or conclude in one morning! So I realized that that, too, was an attempt to side-track me and steal my joy of freely obeying a prompting of the Spirit.

What follows is some of the "stuff" I thought on before I made the choice to be baptized.   I will share soon the sweetness and excitement and beauty of the morning I was baptized.  This is the background.

***

As many of you who read this will probably already know, I was well-taught the reality of spiritual baptism (heart-change) that is simultaneous with sincere faith in Jesus.  (Jargon alert: I'm going to use a few terms - skip over this section if you've never heard them before.)  Along with this understanding of spiritual baptism, went a reasoning : 1.spiritual baptism is the most important, thus the only one baptism which matters ---> 2. we live in the "Age of Grace" during which our outward rituals mean nothing to God---> 3. thus you should never take part in an external ritual (because we live in the "Age of Grace", remember?!) 

Here's how my mind worked with these 3 thought processes: 

1. Even as a teen, I would wonder, "since I am "spiritually clothed" with God's perfectness in Jesus, do I not need physical clothing?" The conclusion I came to was that, in fact, I do not; but I still live in and among many other people at many different points in their journeys, and that for now at least clothes will be good.  And so with baptism, if I concur that spiritual baptism is the most important, it still doesn't logically follow for me that a physical ritual is completely meaningless.   So I thought on that one, because I had no experiential knowledge to add meaning to it; it was still the principle that I was thinking of.  

2. The "Age of Grace".  Don't get me started on the "ages and dispensations."  Really, don't get me started.  In one warm discussion with my bff (aka Roy) I remember responding "If we really believe this is the "Age of Grace" why do we have so little of it? Why is it so important that we NOT be water baptized?"  I understand that to some people, it is like telling God that His work wasn't enough, I want to add to it.   But for me, remember that that logic leads me to naked.  It just isn't complete reasoning for why and why not to do things.  

   And by the way, the Universe IS the AGE OF GRACE.  (And Justice.  Together.)

   And PS to point 2.  Throughout the Old Testament, we see that the outward rituals didn't really mean much to God then, either.  It's always been the heart He's concerned about.  And a heart that follows Him does express itself externally.  Period.  

3. In case you forgot, point 3 was "you should never take part in an external ritual (because we live in the "Age of Grace", darnnit!)" That logic was too tight of a circle for me.  I couldn't ever round those corners. 

***end of that section***

In no particular order, I'll share some other experiences that contributed to my decision.

Several years ago when some friends from Mexico (Mando and Myra Velasquez) were visiting us, we discussed the subject of baptism (for the second time with them!).  We told them we still didn't feel that it was something God required of us, and they totally respected that and dropped the discussion.   (Huge point that made me think about it more!) Their treatment of us was never more or less love or openness depending on how we agreed or disagreed with them.  In fact, I remember Mando saying that the last thing they wanted to do was put human pressure on us to do what could be a very meaningful spiritual expression.

As I continued to seek the Lord, I kept finding my heart stirred at the passages in the Bible where believers were baptized.   Deliberately and intentionally trying to tear off the the filters and arguments that I had been given, I was just experiencing a simplicity and joy in reading about these very simple acts that bore witness to a changed heart.

 I was also completely re-thinking my beliefs about the  physical communion ritual.  (Insert all the above following reasonings.)  During this time two old writers spoke to me immensely, both Catholic. (The irony of that is not lost on me, considering that I had less than zero respect for Catholic beliefs, and to this day am still sad at the degree of bondage I see in that system. That's another story for another time, because I can fully say that people in the Catholic tradition, alive and dead, have blessed me and taught me to appreciate other angles of God that I had completely missed.) The first one was C.S.Lewis, who in one chapter of his Screwtape Letters described the natural tendency of humans to separate the spiritual from the physical, rather than accepting that they are inextricably intertwined. The second was G. K. Chesterton, who I will quote:
"In a similar way, humanity is divided into conscious ritualists and unconscious ritualists.  The curious thing is, in that example as in others, that it is the conscious ritualism which is comparatively simple, the unconscious ritual which is really heavy and complicated.  The ritual which is comparatively rude and straightforward is the ritual which people call "ritualistic."  It consists of plain things like bread and wine and fire, and men falling on their faces.  But the ritual which is really complex, and many colored, and elaborate, and needlessly formal, is the ritual which people enact without knowing it.  It consists not of plain things like wine and fire, but of really peculiar, and local, and exceptional, and ingenious things - things like door-mats, and door--knockers, and electric bells, and silk hats, and white ties and shiny cards, and confetti.  The truth is that the modern man scarcely ever gets back to very old and simple things except when he is performing some religious mummery.  The modern man can hardly get away from ritual except by entering a ritualistic church.  In the case of those old and mystical formalities we can at least say that the ritual is not mere ritual;  that the symbols employed are in most cases symbols which belong to a primary human poetry."
This got me thinking about how my anti-ritualism was it's own ritual. So many other rituals and traditions that I observed without knowing started jumping out at me and I began to discard what the Spirit within me hadn't prompted.

Somewhere along here I read a paper shared with me by my friend Doris Howard.  I have googled and googled for it, and can't seem to find it anywhere.  It was an exposition and commentary on Romans 7, and I wrestled with it for a while.  (Yes, I had all 8 pages printed out and dog-eared and crossed out and hand-written notes in the margins...) It was written by a long time pastor who had tried to use guilt and shame to coerce people into making better choices, but had discovered a better way.  A way which leaves Jesus as Savior, and people as responders.  He had discovered that as he changed to preach the doctrines of grace, people's lives were changing from the inside out, full of joy.  He realized the one thing he could do as a pastor was to help people understand and experience and draw attention to the reality of what GOD was doing in them by means of water baptism and "the Lord's supper".  The symbol is never greater than the reality.  The symbol draws attention to the reality.  -- So I wrestled with those ideas.  And came to the conclusion that I would never know in my heart of hearts if God alone (without my help) really does produce His fruit in a surrendered believer unless I completely surrendered to Him, letting go of all the things I want to hold on to and resting only in Him.  I had to let go of my fear of following Him "wrong", and rest that He actually will lead me!  He WILL correct me!  He will give further revelations of Himself to me, when I've been mistaken!  (This is something I'm still so new to, and people's resistance and feedback to me about my following where Jesus leads still rocks my boat. But the cool thing is that when my boat gets rocked is when I'm drawn into those deepest places with Jesus and I LOVE that!)    (PS-- Doris, if you read this and you remember that paper I'm talking about, will you please resend me the link if you still have it?)

At some point, Roy and I started having times of deliberate communion (as a ritual) with each other during times of particular stress or when we felt that we needed to be brought closer to Him.  It was still too awkward to try to explain to other people or even enjoy with other people because there was so much "stuff" attached.  But we found that often as we had that time "alone together" with God, we would both be crying, seeing deep into each others souls, baring our very selves and saying "nothing else matters".  (And often, "I'm sorry" and "I forgive you."-- Which is a side note, but quite significant because I'm learning that a restored relationship with Father God means restoration and redemption with human relationships.  Humility and grace just flow so freely from hearts who have been touched by Jesus!)   Then we met our (now) very dear friends Kirk and Lorree Barry.  We started getting together with them every week, having such sweet times pressing into Jesus together.  And one time Kirk surprised us with having bread and wine (or grape juice, I forget) for communion.  So after some conversation and prayer, we were able to share with friends in this special memory of what Jesus has done for us.  I will never forget that time, and the tangible presence of the Holy Spirit as He set us free to love Him and remember Him that way.   (And the tears- I will not forget the tears!)

My first up close and personal experience with a water baptism was with my friend Wendy Devore.  Wendy was someone I had known through the yoga world; I knew her a little as a teacher, and had visited with her a few times at a few parties, but it wasn't till I had taken a teacher training course at a studio that she was part of that we really connected.  After teaching two of her classes as my final element of the teacher training she wanted to talk to me about my faith.  That started an ongoing conversation for the next 6 months, during which time she started going to a local church and through so many crazy details- people and circumstances-, God hunted her down.  It was awesome to watch!  In the winter of 2013 she told me she wanted to be baptized when her church held their spring baptisms.  I knew this was something special God had for me too, because here for years I've been thinking, reading and my heart crying out to God, "Show me, please!" So Roy and I got to witness not only Jesus capturing someone who was adamantly opposed to Him, but the joy and intimacy of her baptism. The time of prayer beforehand, hearing her own mouth proclaim Jesus IS God (something I never thought I would hear) was just amazing.  (Note to critics, including myself: a church of 15,000 doesn't mean there aren't amazing intimate encounters with Jesus.)  During Wendy's baptism I knew it was something I wanted to do, too.

And as soon as I knew that I wanted to be baptized, I knew I wanted Mando and Myra to baptize me.  I had been thinking and studying what "spiritual authority" means, and what "pastor" means. (Something I will probably never stop studying- it's very near and dear to my heart and God has continued to show me more of Him as I keep looking into these things.  Why stop?!)
Roy and I have been told by leaders in two churches that we are "scared of biblical authority" and probably just don't want "accountability" or "close relationships".  We take those statements very seriously, because God is our witness that we WANT ALL that He has provided for us in His body.  We WANT close and authentic relationships that have freedom and courage to speak truth to each other, and grace and patience to let God do HIS work! So I go to God's word, and fall on my knees and usually my face too, and say "God, what IS your way? I want what You want for me!"  And when I looked at the Bible (definitions of pastors from the pastoral letters and stories of the early church in the book of Acts and Jesus' teaching and ultimate leadership in the gospels) and examined my life by those terms to help me identify who those people were in my life (if I had any!), I immediately came up with Mando and Kirk, two people who had never identified themselves as "pastor" to me, but had been everything that God tells me IS a pastor!  (When I started looking into this I told Roy, "I don't think I've ever had a pastor!" because I'd never had a relationship that looked anything like what I was seeing in the Bible with people who were called pastors.  And then God graciously reminded me how He had provided for me, and that I need to allow Him to provide for me thru His means, not man's means.)  So in hindsight, I realized Mando and Myra had been my first pastors.   (And a quick side-note:  after a special, special weekend with them when they baptized us, God quieted the demon that keeps poking "you're scared of godly authority" at me with the revelation that the only thing that that voice wants to do is put me back under ungodly authority.)  I say from the bottom of my heart, and with tears in my eyes, I am so, so grateful and have so much love for the people God has brought alongside Roy and me who have drawn us to Jesus, spent the time to get to know us, share freely with us what God's doing in them (not in a "you're-my-project" and "take-notes" kind of way) but in a genuine friend sort of way.  I find myself SO drawn to them, and wanting to download on them, wanting their insight, and, and... And it's a reminder that when God's free to work in and among His people, it's not fear that draws us together but love. And it works really well.