Baptism must be seen near the heart of our faith and presented as significant, but not allowed to separate Christians into groups of resentment or condescension. It must not become the “water that divides us” but the water that witnesses to our commitment to Christ.
Calvin Miller
As a pastor, I like to envision myself as a great champion of the Christian faith. I have always thought it would be nice to die a martyr for some great theological truth — to gasp out my final breath for the ultimate victory of orthodoxy over classic Arianism.
However, I pastor in suburbia, where volleyball leagues get more attention than questions about Christ’s deity. So most of the time I find my life given to more ordinary things. After all, most suburbanites can’t understand why I take Christianity so seriously when there are sod webworms and dandelion epidemics.
Yet doctrinal issues are basic to faith, even in suburbia.
In today’s world, one of my challenges as a pastor is dealing with “private faith” — people wanting a personal, but not visible, relationship with God. They like the security of feeling they know God, but they don’t want anyone else to know they know him. They “accept Jesus,” but reject demands to openly proclaim their allegiance.
Maybe this is one reason Jesus instructed his followers to make disciples and baptize. The doctrine of baptism is not just a damp aggravation Jesus tacked onto church practice to annoy those who come to faith. It is “an outward and visible sign of an inward and spiritual grace,” an act of obedience, a public statement of faith.
Perhaps Jesus knew that a faith never publicly expressed had little chance of surviving. Certainly the church, throughout history, could not have survived unless believers had been willing to go public with their faith, even when it cost them their lives.
You’d expect a Baptist minister to say these things. What’s interesting is that even in a Baptist church, many adults face the rite with a kind of terror. This terror is not so much a fear of drowning (though I have encountered even that) but a fear of being “center staged” and scrutinized as a new saint, a situation that can occur in any church — immersionist or not. Why this fear? There are several reasons.
Objections to Overcome
Leaving aside the theological debate about the mode of baptism for the moment, I find adults who come to Christ often object to baptism for three reasons.
First, the adultness of the person being baptized is a psychological stumbling block. There persists the feeling today that baptism is for children. The predominance of paedobaptism in our culture has no doubt accounted for this, but it is a widespread problem when adults come to faith. Clearing up this misunderstanding is work.
In terms of self-image, this reaction is understandable. I once took skiing lessons at a lodge in the Rockies. I felt foolish being the only adult in a class of preteens. I towered above them, often embarrassed that they did so much better than I was doing. I have tried to remember how I felt that afternoon as I attempt to explain to adult converts that baptism is not just kids’ stuff.
Second, the public nature of baptism is troublesome to many. People often ask me if they could be baptized in some more private way. They would like it to be just me and them, or perhaps just a few friends. No amount of my reasoning has worked very well in overcoming this fear. I can point out theologically that baptism is an outward confession and would thus lose its meaning in a totally private service. Like a wedding, its great value is in its being seen — visible vows are vows of greater strength than those that are private and undisclosed.
It was because of this objection that I made baptism a part of our morning worship services. Part of the fear of a public baptism, I think, grew because many people were not familiar with the rite. Those who most needed it were not present at the Sunday evening services when it was usually practiced. By moving it to Sunday morning, it has become a regular part of worship and therefore is not seen as something of little importance, relegated to the secondary services.
As an immersionist, I’ve also found people unfamiliar and skeptical about the mode we practice. For those who have never seen it, or have only vague mental images of frontier revival meetings on the creek bank, the ceremony of baptism might appear unseemly, somehow not aesthetic enough to be a part of the dignity of morning worship. I’ve found these false notions are also removed by making baptism a regular part of morning worship.
Third, and closely related, is the obstacle of vanity. Baptism is, admittedly, an undignified experience, especially for those of us who immerse.
After I have introduced a new convert to Christ, I soon tell the person about baptism — often in the same visit during which the person confirmed his commitment to Christ. When people find out what I mean by baptism, they will often blurt out, “You mean under the water … in front of all those people?” They cannot imagine “the wet look” — make-up gone and hair style obliterated — in front of the whole congregation. For many people at such an imagined moment of horror, their theology collapses and psychology rises in protest.
Almost every adult convert will need help in all these areas. I’ve found it helpful to remember these are not theological attacks mounted by carnal converts. They are objections raised by self-image and natural self-esteem. All that is won spiritually can be lost psychologically.
The best, and most honest, way to overcome these objections, I believe, is to bring them out into the open. I gently let new converts know that fear is understandable. Everybody faces it. But there’s more: to respond out of vanity when they have just given their entire lives to Christ is inconsistent. Dignity has its place, but it cannot be allowed to supplant a daring decision.
As one who practices immersion, I face yet another obstacle, a practical one: immersion is simply more physical than drier forms of baptism. Many heavier adults look at their minister and doubt. These may need a little assurance that the minister is able to perform all he would ask of them.
I have never quite decided if I did the right thing with Zelpha Ettinger. Zelpha came into full relationship with Christ, but weighing over two hundred fifty pounds, she eyed my thin frame with suspicion.
“Do you think you can do it?” she asked.
I assured her I could, but she, in tears, asked if I would fill the baptistery on a Tuesday and baptize her with no one in the sanctuary so she would know for sure I could do it later with the whole congregation present. So I did. The practice session, I must confess, healed my doubts as well as hers.
I remember Julie Thompson, who was far less heavy than Zelpha, but she was proud that I had baptized her, too, with such grace. She would often introduce me to her family and friends as “My pastor … who baptized even me.” I always felt like the Rev. Schwarzenegger as she proudly told her friends of my ability to baptize even the more beefy converts.
Perhaps it’s good, in such moments, to be able to laugh at what we are, but to remember also that Jesus did indeed call us to go into all the world and teach the gospel to every creature, baptizing them in the name of the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit. Knowing how much we want to see all the world’s people baptized into the faith, perhaps God can forgive our lack of dignity.
I try not to be defensive, but I sometimes feel that immersion receives more of the brunt of jibe and satire in popular imagination than the simpler modes of baptism. I earlier alluded to the stereotype of the “overalls and farm pond” congregations singing “Shall We Gather at the River,” which has left our perceived image somewhere closer to dusty back roads than today’s chrome-and-glass offices where our custom can appear quaint and out-of-date. Perhaps the hillbilly look of the ordinance contributes to the fear of the water.
I remember one stylish young woman in my first church who came to a personal faith in Jesus Christ. Soon after, I began to talk to her about baptism. She was horrified at the idea. (She had never heard of the rite and was shocked just to know of its existence, let alone her own need of it to become a member of our church.) She never said immersion was rural and plain, yet her reluctance said it for her. It was many weeks before she finally agreed to be baptized.
And if a person doesn’t have personal fears, often the attitudes of other people present obstacles. For instance, teenagers may face baptism under the jocular sway of parents who attend their baptism service but joke about their child’s “dunking” or “swimming lesson,” thus implying the whole service is silly or undignified. The richness is stolen from the occasion, and a child may feel a kind of flippant rejection of that which he or she has taken so seriously.
Steps from Conversion to Baptism
In this brief section, it should be understood, I give but one man’s way, developed across twenty-five years and two thousand baptisms. In baptizing an average of two people a week, I have discovered the importance of gentleness, patience, and thorough explanation concerning baptism.
The vast majority of those two thousand people were adults. The vigor and enthusiasm of the newly baptized has infused our church with energy. Still I speak cautiously, because every pastor ministers uniquely, especially with new converts. But let me describe the steps I try to take between conversion and immersion.
The first step, even with new converts, is to be open about my baptismal practices. I have instructed our staff and the scores of lay people trained to evangelize that as soon as anyone comes to faith in Christ, we should mention baptism and the relationship of the ritual to the faith they have just professed. There is, of course, some risk of losing a new convert by going too quickly to the matter of baptism. But I feel the risk must be taken so that the convert sees the relationship of his new-found Lord to all of life in the church, beginning with public profession of faith in Christ — and baptism.
This up-front presentation prevents a feeling of being “swindled” by a quick and easy presentation of the gospel that must later be amended by secondary requirements. This feeling is not unlike the one when you purchase a new automobile and find at the cash register that the purchase price does not include a thousand dollar’s worth of options as well as preparation and delivery costs.
The second step is undelayed enrollment in a New Christians’ Class. We want new converts to understand how belief in Christ fits with baptism, Communion, and all the other aspects of discipleship. We offer the classes before church on Sunday mornings because it is the one time each week when the most people can attend. Sunday night attendance is less easily motivated, and week nights present an unbelievable set of scheduling conflicts.
I’ll admit to the downside of this approach. New converts have as great a need to belong as they do to be instructed. Membership in a New Christians’ Class helps with the necessary instruction, but if Sunday school classes are the basis for fellowship and belonging in your church, it can frustrate the new Christian’s need to get involved in a group of other Christians. Therefore, we limit the length of the instruction to only a few weeks to avoid excessive segregation from the larger group.
The third step is to make sure that our church, in arranging for the baptism, is courteous and willing to keep the converts well informed. The convert will want to know all the details. We mail letters that spell out when and where to meet the pastor before the service, and what to bring (including towels, dry undergarments, and hair dryers). Early in the week of the baptism, we mail a second letter that again covers the facts and confirms their participation.
The fourth step of preparation is a gentle reminder of everyone’s right to dignity. I have long believed that to ask anyone to undress in full view of others can impose a terrible kind of indignity, especially for children or those who are shy. In both the men’s dressing room and the women’s, we have provided partitions to keep anyone from having to undress in front of others.
The fifth step is the briefing I hold with participants fifteen minutes before the service. It’s my last-minute but special time with the new converts. Here we rehearse the procedure: how to enter the baptistery and leave it, the importance of handrails, reading each candidate’s name in the order of the baptism, introducing those who are helping in the dressing rooms. Finally, we go through a dry run, showing the candidates exactly what I will say and what they will say. I fully explain the procedure, asking one of the candidates to serve as a model for the others, showing how I will hold them during the rite and how I will call them to the water and send them from it.
Then I pray with the group, holding hands. This prayer celebrates the importance of what they are doing and points to the spiritual meaning of the event. It’s one of the most important things I do. For one thing, it reminds us all of the spiritual significance of the event. So many times, the dressing rooms are filled with nervous or light chit-chat that robs the event of its spiritual tone. This brief prayer time helps us focus on the meaning of what we’re doing.
It also serves a second purpose. This prayer can allay some of the natural fears of those about to be baptized. It provides a time of peace in a nervous and dyspeptic time. The timid feel uncomfortable with all they are being asked to do and say before so many people. Prayer brings a sense of community to the group. It is difficult to feel alone as you pray with others who are going through the same feelings of fear and inadequacy.
The last step that needs to be remembered is that, whether or not the church requires a testimony from the baptistery, the event is an act of worship. We use Scripture, organ, lighting, and even choral responses with the ordinance. When married couples are baptized, we like to include them both in the baptistery at the same time. Even whole families may be baptized at once. The appropriate Scripture before or after the baptism of a child, engaged couple, family, or single parent can enhance the event and make it more worshipful and memorable.
The presentation of baptismal certificates can be done formally or informally, publicly or privately, but we have them already typed and signed before the baptism begins.
We’ve found that with these procedures, the fears that often surround baptism can be diminished, even eliminated.
Baptism must be allowed to live near the heart of our faith, without fear, whatever form it takes. It must be seen and presented as significant, without allowing it to separate Christians into groups of resentment or condescension. It must not become the “water that divides us” but the water that witnesses to our commitment to Christ. It demonstrates that our submission to the New Testament, which has few rites for us to practice, should not be abandoned simply because there are different views on how the rite is to be practiced.
Above all, baptism must stand for basic truth as well as a greatness of spirit. It reminds us who have undergone the water that we are to serve one another in love and welcome all into the arms of relationship with Christ.
Copyright ©1987 Christianity Today
