Just got back from our annual Baptism by the Bay.
Because we don't have a church building or baptismal we've always had to get creative. So a few years ago we decided to do a baptism at a public beach on the Chesapeake Bay. It turned into an amazing experience. We do a "church picnic". We play games like a marshmallow toss and water balloon toss. We even threw in a tug-of-war this year :) Then we do a little worship on the beach followed by our baptism.
It's pretty cool doing a baptism in a public space. What a way to go public with your faith!
It's hard to put into words, but the thought that goes through my mind every time we do a baptism by the bay is this is what it's all about.
It was so amazing to hear the stories. Each of them unique. Each of them a testament to how big God is. And the last person I baptized was my dad. I can't even put into words my thoughts and feelings. In the words of Heinrich Zimmer, "The best things in life can't be said."
Because we don't have a church building or baptismal we've always had to get creative. So a few years ago we decided to do a baptism at a public beach on the Chesapeake Bay. It turned into an amazing experience. We do a "church picnic". We play games like a marshmallow toss and water balloon toss. We even threw in a tug-of-war this year :) Then we do a little worship on the beach followed by our baptism.
It's pretty cool doing a baptism in a public space. What a way to go public with your faith!
It's hard to put into words, but the thought that goes through my mind every time we do a baptism by the bay is this is what it's all about.
It was so amazing to hear the stories. Each of them unique. Each of them a testament to how big God is. And the last person I baptized was my dad. I can't even put into words my thoughts and feelings. In the words of Heinrich Zimmer, "The best things in life can't be said."
1 Comments:
Mark, what an indescribable moment for you and your dad! It is definitelly worth an Ebenezer.
A while ago, my Dad and I were hanging wallpaper in my apartment in Barnaul, Russia. After working side by side and chatting (mostly me) for several hours, we fell into comfortable silence when all of a sudden Dad said "You know, I think there is God." It would have been a good time for me to reply with something profoundly spiritual. Instead, in total astonishment, I muttered something like "It's cool, Dad", and we went right back to rubbing out crinkles out of the wallpaper.
I myself had come to Christ several years before. My parents thought I fell off my rocker. They, as most sensible people in Soviet Union, never went to church, never considered God. I had given a lot of proof of my "temporary insanity" by preaching them into repentance. Dad's responce had been "Honey, I am glad it works for you." With time I learned to live as a believer instead of talking like one. Meanwhile, I had prayed for my parents.
The "wallpaper" conversation was the last time Dad talked to me about faith. He passed away shortly after, a sudden heart failure. Even now, I return to that "altar" covered with flowered paper and put my trust in the One who never gives up on a man.
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