Who Are You? – Matthew 3:13-17
I had two baptisms. The first was as an infant in the First Presbyterian Church of Enid Oklahoma early in 1953. That one was not a dunking. It was a sprinkling. Judging by the results, a lengthy immersion may have been helpful. The second was a dunking that took place 23 years later in the Tulsa Edison High School swimming pool in the spring of 1976. I don’t know if it was the chlorine, but things were much different after that one. I am being silly of course. The difference with my second baptism is that I was given a new heart.
As I resurfaced in that pool I didn’t hear a voice from heaven saying, “This is My beloved Son, in whom I am well pleased.” That happened a few months later after I had spent a night in revelry. (I checked the definition, and yes, it was “revelry”). I had been perfecting this lifestyle since I was 13. Based upon the emptiness I was feeling the next morning, I was certain I had lost my salvation.
Dog piling on my misery were those familiar voices; “Robby, you idiot. You could screw up an anvil with a rubber mallet. Look what you have done now. You’ve lost the best thing you ever had. How typical of you to ruin this, just like you ruin everything. You are a looser!” I had not heard these voices since surrendering my heart to Christ. This was the voice of death. It had been stalking me for years. I cried out to the Lord as I was driving back to Tulsa from Enid, “Lord, I cannot bear to live without you. Even though I deserve it, please, please, please do not abandon me. I will die without you.” I had never spoken more sincere words. God’s response to this prayer is why I am not a Baptist (or a Presbyterian). They unfriended me when I told them what happened next.
Why, I do not know, but I began to weep. My tears turned into a flood. A torrent of emotion poured out of me, the likes of which I had never experienced. I was scared. I was not only loosing my salvation, I was apparently loosing my mind. As it turned out, my fears were unfounded. Even though it was terrifying at one level (God’s presence tends to do this), the next hour was the sweetest and most powerful 60 minutes of my life. I will not relate it all here, but suffice it to say, the Lord got it across that I too was his beloved son and he was well please with me.
In this encounter, he pledged to never leave nor forsake me. He also made it resoundingly clear that the name of Jesus is majestic in ways human language cannot begin to describe. My precious friends and family may ask, “So, Mr. Mystic, in what ways have you been more holy since this encounter?” “And, Mr. Fear and Trembling, what wisdom did you came away with?” Well, as to holiness, I for sure vowed to never ever revel again but I have only been moderately successful with this. As to wisdom, make double-darn sure you have a very secure friendship before sharing a God encounter with a Baptist or a Presbyterian.
This living, real-time word put a hammer blow to the old voices but, I regret to say, it did not extinguish them. In a more subdued tone, I heard them for another 30 years. I was to learn that condemnation is every bit as potent in the context of religion as it is in revelry. Religious devotion and service were salves (and I poured it on!) … but the One who pledged to never leave nor forsake me, had freedom in mind. His process of liberation is what MwM celebrates.
Father, whatever it takes, permit us to discover our identities, in Christ. Help us to see what a generous, kind, strong and faithful Father you are. May our mouths be muzzled until our hearts are free. Amen.