We baptized our third son today.
We said the words that I have come to love. The promise that Seth and I and our church have now made three times. A promise to each of our boys. We say,
For his people God made the world out of nothing.
For his people God called Israel out of Egypt.
For his people God brought Israel back from exile.
For his people Christ came into the world to teach the children.
For his people Christ died on the cross and rose again.
For his people God sent the Holy Spirit to give us the strength to live as we ought.
For his people Christ will come again and take us to God.
Baby Jonah, you know nothing of this, but we promise to tell you the story until you make it your own.
--adapted from the Huguenot baptismal liturgy
If you had told me in my earlier years that I would baptize my infant children, I would've called you a heretic and moved right on my way. But this liturgy that I read years ago, courtesy of Allison Hamm, gave me pause to consider it.
We do not consider baptism in itself to be a saving act, and yes, our children will have to affirm their faith as they grow.
As I do.
As we all do.
Everyday.
The more I consider things, the more I see that my faith is always growing. That it is organic. That it rises and falls and is uneducated and shallow in places that need tending. That God's sovereignty is the arc that covers it all. And that my life, my trajectory of growth, falls under his love and his guidance and I am never too far from him, despite my choices, my attitude, my neglect of any discipline.
I need to hear his story over and over. I am still making it my own. I am still trying to see myself as a small part of his larger plan rather than supposing that I am the central focus here, doling out accolades to God as I see fit to call them.
I am a baby, too. I can imagine God smiling and shaking his head at my pride, at my presumed self-righteousness, and saying, "Baby Kristen, you know nothing of this." How much of God remains unknown to me?
I still need to hear the story as I make it my own.
We said the words that I have come to love. The promise that Seth and I and our church have now made three times. A promise to each of our boys. We say,
For his people God made the world out of nothing.
For his people God called Israel out of Egypt.
For his people God brought Israel back from exile.
For his people Christ came into the world to teach the children.
For his people Christ died on the cross and rose again.
For his people God sent the Holy Spirit to give us the strength to live as we ought.
For his people Christ will come again and take us to God.
Baby Jonah, you know nothing of this, but we promise to tell you the story until you make it your own.
--adapted from the Huguenot baptismal liturgy
If you had told me in my earlier years that I would baptize my infant children, I would've called you a heretic and moved right on my way. But this liturgy that I read years ago, courtesy of Allison Hamm, gave me pause to consider it.
We do not consider baptism in itself to be a saving act, and yes, our children will have to affirm their faith as they grow.
As I do.
As we all do.
Everyday.
The more I consider things, the more I see that my faith is always growing. That it is organic. That it rises and falls and is uneducated and shallow in places that need tending. That God's sovereignty is the arc that covers it all. And that my life, my trajectory of growth, falls under his love and his guidance and I am never too far from him, despite my choices, my attitude, my neglect of any discipline.
I need to hear his story over and over. I am still making it my own. I am still trying to see myself as a small part of his larger plan rather than supposing that I am the central focus here, doling out accolades to God as I see fit to call them.
I am a baby, too. I can imagine God smiling and shaking his head at my pride, at my presumed self-righteousness, and saying, "Baby Kristen, you know nothing of this." How much of God remains unknown to me?
I still need to hear the story as I make it my own.
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