Easter Baptisms

There was a teenage girl who is on the autism spectrum who told me how much she loves Jesus and that she wanted to be baptized. Just because of where she happened to be standing, she bravely went first, her parents right there beside her.

There was a 39 year old man who asked me if I was going to carry him around the sanctuary like I did with the babies, smiling at me as I sprinkled water into his thick head of hair. Some of it dripped down onto his long bushy beard.

There was a mother and daughter kneeling side-by-side, their husband/dad standing behind them with tears running down his face as I baptized first his little girl, then his wife. They all held hands during the prayer.

There was a baby boy in a beautiful all white baptism outfit, bright eyes shining, smiling at me when I took him from his mom. The water must have been a little bit cold because when I put it on his head he caught his breath and shivered like babies do.

There was another baby boy who is an actual super hero, living with spinal muscular atrophy and rocking his Easter morning bow tie right alongside the medical equipment he’s connected to. He didn’t care for all the jostling, and frowned at me. (We’re good, though. He smiled at me later.)

There was a fifth grade girl who had asked me not to get her hair bow wet. I tried, but failed. So after I baptized her I whispered, “I’m sorry I think I got your bow wet” and she indignantly replied, “Oh come on!” with a twinkle in her beautiful eyes.

So that was Easter Sunday. Not bad, huh?

Because my call to ministry happened during a baptism (Jessica Sparks, 20 years ago, First Presbyterian Church, Galesburg, Illinois), baptism has always a very meaningful part of what I do as a pastor. But I think Easter Sunday of 2019 will be particularly special, and I will recall it with great joy for years to come. Not just because there were seven baptisms, which is pretty groovy in and of itself. But because of each of the seven unique and miraculous lives that were changed in those moments.

Baptism is the beginning of a new relationship. Easter is the beginning of a new season. In two months will be a beginning of a new chapter of ministry for me. God really is continually doing a new thing, within us and among us and all around us, in every moment and every place, forever and ever. The energy of Easter, the power of Baptism, along with the ongoing grace of Holy Communion: these spiritual realities equip us for every new beginning we face, in every moment of our lives.

Initiated into Christ’s holy church – Incorporated into God’s might acts of salvation – Given new birth through water and the Spirit. And ALL of it is God’s gift, offered to us without price. The thought of it really should blow us away; it is almost too much to perceive!

Christ is risen indeed! Alleluia, amen.

"Should" vs. "Want To" (And Blatant Pastoral Narcissism)

Focus less on convincing people that they should …
           … and more on equipping the people that already want to.

I’ve been contemplating this idea all week long. It seems like everything I do is geared toward convincing, cajoling, urging people to practice the pattern of discipleship – you know: weekly worship, small group study, proportional giving, selfless service, and radical hospitality – and it gets tedious. Worse, it feels empty.

It feels empty because I obsess over the people who don’t seem to get it, rather than celebrate the people who do. And I need to stop that. It puts me in a dark and scary place where I begin to doubt a whole lot of stuff about my vocation, and I’d rather not be there.

And the truth is, there are an abundance of people who “get it” when it comes to being a follower of Jesus, people who need no convincing. I feel so much more energized, focused, and happy when I get to hang out with people like that, hear them talk about God and church and discipleship and what following Jesus means to them. It is joyful and filled with grace and the power of the Holy Spirit.

And yet …

I have read several articles and books lately that describe how the church is being confronted with issues like:
- sporadic rather than weekly worship,
- small groups as cliques or clubs rather than true growth in grace and knowledge of God,
- giving when it’s convenient rather than proportionally to one’s income,
- being “nice” to others rather than engaging in selfless service, and
- staying home when you have house guests rather than actually inviting a stranger to church.

Now it sounds like I’m just griping. And I don’t want to be “that pastor.” But I need to be honest. It just takes so much energy to move people from being a good-person-who-goes-to-church-every-so-often to actually becoming an authentic disciple of Jesus Christ.

So I was thinking maybe I need to take a break from trying to convince people that they should, and focus more on equipping the people that already want to. Encouraging, cheering, thanking.

Like for example, last night there were eight people in Bible Study, and there are usually more than twice that number. My initial reaction was one of disappointment at the low attendance. But you know what? The discussion at that Bible Study was one of the most enjoyable experiences I’ve had all week. Why? Because of the "want to."

And what does it say about my own theology when I think it is up to me to convince people that they should follow Jesus? How narcissistic is that? What would happen if I actually allowed the Holy Spirit to convince, cajole, and convict?

And what if I then saw my role simply as the one who would meet them in the midst of their life and help them follow that conviction?

I suppose what I’m getting at is that I’m tired of trying to generate the conviction in people and being met with a resounding “meh.” And there are so, so many people who have already felt that conviction and are actively following it – and so yeah, that’s the people I want to be with.

In the Gospels, three different groups are described. In short, these groups are the “Scribes and Pharisees,” the “crowd,” and the “disciples.” The “S & P” group is openly antagonistic toward Jesus. The “disciples” have transformed their lives to follow Jesus.

But the “crowd” is that large and mostly anonymous group that’s hanging out and listening to what he has to say, watching what he’s doing, enjoying some bread and fish with 5,000 of their closest friends, but haven’t made the commitment that the disciples have to actually follow him wherever he goes.

It has been my pattern to focus mostly on people in the “crowd” and move them into the “disciples” group. But just lately I’m feeling God nudge me to spend less energy there and more time and energy with the disciples. And in particular, with disciples who have found the church to be … well … let’s just say “lacking” when it comes to discipleship opportunities.

I believe that I am called in particular to serve people who have felt the Holy Spirit’s conviction to follow Jesus but cannot find a way to pursue that conviction in the life of the church.

In other words, focus less on convincing people that they should and more on equipping the people that already want to.

Be Extraordinary

The tag line for our current worship series is “Ordinary People - Extraordinary Lives.” The idea is that God calls and equips ordinary people like you and me to be extraordinary for God’s sake.

Sometimes I’m afraid the church sells itself short. We tend to let our ordinariness rule the day, and settle for “just fine” when God is really calling us to “amazing.” God operates in the cosmos of miracle and eternity and omnipotent, and much of the time we’re stuck in the muck of relevant and popular and trendy.

Imagine Mary, in all her ordinariness, called by God to give birth to the Son of the Most High, who would be great and inherit the throne of King David, ruling over a never ending kingdom … and what might have happened had her response been, “No thanks. Joseph and I are just fine here in Nazareth.”

The truth is, they were just fine. And they would have been just fine had God not called her to be the mother of Jesus. They would have remained just fine their whole lives, and even been quite comfortably content with Joseph carving and building, having a family, raising their kids.

To hear Christ’s call is to understand that there is more to life than “just fine.” To be a part of the church means you have a deep desire to be extraordinary, to connect to a power that is immense, to be a part of something that is bigger than you alone.

The paradox is, the church is extraordinary precisely in its inherent ordinariness. We are Mary, an ordinary young woman called to participate in a miracle. It is daunting. It is scary. It is humbling.

And yet it is who we are called to be. It is the church. Just us ordinary people, called to live extraordinary lives.

Called

You might call it the call that started it all - the call of Abram. He would become known as Abraham, which means in Hebrew, “The Father of a Multitude.” In fact his story is a part of several different world religions, including Christianity, Judaism, Islam, and Baha’i.

Into this one life, which was by all accounts a rather ordinary one, God spoke. God called, and Abram heard. The call was to go to the place God was sending him. God gave no further detail than that.

“Go, Abram. Pick yourself and your family up from where you are now and go to where you will be when you get there.”

God’s portion of this call would be to bless Abram, make his name great, and through him extend the blessing to all the families of the earth. God wasn't very clear on the details at this point, either.

“I will bless you, and through you, bless the world.”

It was so fuzzy. No flowcharts. No five year plan. No specific, measurable, attainable goals, much less any means for reporting them to the conference office. Just a call to go, and a promise to bless.

And you know what the most extraordinary thing is? This: “So Abram went, as the Lord had told him.”

The call that started it all was a call to trust, to humility, to a faith that had to be at peace with uncertainty. Abram followed without knowing the details, or even the desired outcomes. He was called, and he went.

An ordinary person, an extraordinary life. The call was, “Go.” And Abram went.