In Robert Duvall’s great film, The Apostle, there is a scene in which Duvall’s character, a wayward evangelist fleeing an attempted murder charge, stands waist deep in a river. Slowly he sinks down and submerges himself. He’s down there awhile – we wonder if he’s coming back up. Then just as slowly he breaks through the surface. From here on he assumes a new identity and adopts a new name, “The Apostle EF.” We never quite know whether this is grace or scheming – that’s part of the power of the film. The scene infers, though, that he was baptizing himself, allowing his old identity to die and a new one to be born.
Baptism is the premiere rite of new beginnings. In the church, it has long been the entry point for life in Christ, though sometimes it comes long after faith has taken hold. One reason baptism always includes water is because Jesus was baptized in water. “Then Jesus came from Galilee to John at the Jordan, to be baptized by him.” Some reason that Jesus in this way sanctified all waters.
We all begin life in the water, the amniotic fluid in which we grow before birth. And, of course, water can also be a place of death – imagery which our baptismal texts emphasize as the drowning of the old self and the rising with Christ of the new, eternal soul. Christian baptismal rites emphasize both birth and death – some early baptismal fonts were designed to suggest wombs, tombs or both.
I find it a great blessing that an element we encounter numerous times each day should be the sacramental sign of our new life in Christ, for we can be constantly reminded of our status as beloved of God. Martin Luther is said to have instructed followers, “When you wash your face, remember your baptism.” I would go further and say, “When you have a bath or a shower, remember your baptism. When you go swimming or pass a puddle, or fill your coffee pot or water glass, remember your baptism.”
If you can’t remember yours, spend a little time today imagining it in prayer. What water source would you choose? A font, a pool, a beach, a water fall, a fountain?
Would you like to go into the water or have it poured over you? In your imagination, can you see those waters as healing? What do you want healed? Regenerated? Renewed?
There was a time when my prayer life consisted of meeting Jesus on a beach in my imagination – sometimes he had a fire there and we talked. More than once, he invited me to wade into the sea with him, a profound reminder of my baptism.
Wherever and whenever you were baptized, and whoever was there, remember that Jesus also was there through his Spirit, sanctifying the water in which you were born anew. That birth process takes a lifetime – and we can dip into those waters any time we want.
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