So, I got baptized
8/30/15.
Yep. Washed in the Blood of the Lamb. Dead to the flesh and
risen again in the spirit. Something like that. I’m neither a poet or a
wordsmith. Definitely not a theologian or religious studies scholar. (My
Masters degree is in Music Theory. Not exactly Divinity. Wait… Does Coltrane’s
“A Love Supreme” count?)
Don’t get me wrong. I’ve read the Bible. Piecemeal,
admittedly, and don’t ask me to quote chapters and verses. (For real… I’m doing
good to remember song lyrics.) I can confidently say I’ve seen everything in
there at least once. Hey… At 38 years old, I like to think I’m BEGINNING to
make progress. This recent “go through”, I started at Revelations and have been
going backwards, book by book.( I’m at First Thessalonians, now. Yeah, I’m slow
like that.) I’ve been using the St. Joseph Edition, because while I’m reading
it, I can jump down and read the footnotes. (I’m somewhat disappointed the NIV
Bible App I have on my tablet doesn’t have footnotes. What can I say? Some
things you read take on a different life when you get a little more background
on it.) Sometimes, I really look at it and say “Okay… I gotcha…” Then, there
have been times I said “REALLY, Paul?”
For anyone curious, one of my bookmarks is one of the “bad” letters
from the church that says “We consider you part of our church family. So when
we haven’t seen you at our weekend celebrations for the last few weeks…” (Hey…
I was there most of the time! I just refuse to sign the attendance packet. Quit
scowling at me.)
Okay… I’ve digressed.
SO… Why did I get
baptized?
No, I didn’t get baptized as a child. My siblings did. I
didn’t. Don’t ask. It’s like my first name; I’m not discussing it on the
internet.
I could say “Jesus is doing such wonderful things in my life
that I felt I owed it to Him.” Nope. Not
true. That isn’t to say he isn’t
doing wonderful things in my life. I just don’t believe that’s why you go to
Jesus. Okay… Yes, you owe Jesus, but
that’s not some debt you can repay. Ever.
That’s the point. It doesn’t matter
if he tells you next week’s Powerball numbers in a dream. Getting washed in his blood doesn’t make things even. Don’t get me
wrong; next week’s Powerball numbers would be nice…
I could also say “I’ve decided it was PAST time to make a
commitment to Jesus.” It wouldn’t be accurate, though. I served on and off in
churches for years. There are accompaniment editions of hymnals on my shelves. The
filing cabinet has evidence from past music ministry positions and pieces I’ve
arranged for choir that have never seen the light of day. I’ve got MORE ideas
in my head and on scraps that have percolated for years. Yes, I know that none
of this is the same as “committing to Jesus.” I see it as indications that I’ve
been guided and led for much longer than I’ve known. My past experience – much
of it which borders on unbelievable – has been such that I never really questioned that I was a Child of
God.
“By getting baptized,
I was just making it official.” I mean… my sins have already been forgiven,
so this was just an outward gesture. At least that was what I told myself. And
yet… I still hemmed and hawed for years…
I saw it as one of those things – like marriage – that I
just did not want to do until I was absolutely ready. You know how some women
have the “Perfect Fairy Tale Wedding” fantasy? I had this “Kareem’s Perfect Baptism”
all set up in my mind. (Don’t judge me.) My family would be there. Alison
Krauss would be leading a choir singing “Down to the River to Pray” accompanied
by a group of Irish Dancers. I’d get baptized in the name of The Father, The Son,
and the Holy Ghost. There’d be this ray of sunlight as I came up. Aretha
Franklin and company would be singing me out of the water on “Oh Happy Day”
while the angels circled overhead. Jesus
would be waiting for me on the shore with his thumb up, a wink, and say “Yeah…
Nice job, Buddy!”
Yeah… I never said that fantasy was reasonable. That’s just
how I imagined it. Don’t judge me.
You’re totally
judging me; Stop it.
Okay… Yeah… I asked for it… ANYWAY…
I came up with all these excuses. My life’s a mess. I can’t
get my family there. The church is having it in the river. There could be anything in that river. Snakes.
Brain-eating amoeba. Ch’thulu. It’s not wheelchair accessible. The church is using a pool during
the service. I’m playing electric piano; I can’t do it during service. I’d get
electrocuted. The music director would strangle me with a patch cord if I
asked. Well, I can’t schedule it during another time; I have to think about
everyone else’s schedules. Too many people go to THAT service. Nah… He wouldn’t
use a patch cord, but a bass guitar string. CH’THULU… IN… THE… WATER!!!
Yeah… the mental acrobatics
got tiring.
A little background on my church: It has three campuses with
individual flavors. The small one is located in the Black suburb. The
medium-sized one is about three miles away in the city. The galactic-sized one with
five services alone is way out in one
of the White suburbs north of the city. I often play keyboards at all three on
different weekends, depending on whatever their needs are. I live south of all
of them, so it takes me about 30-35 minutes to get to any of them if traffic is
clear. When I go sit in the pews, I go out to the galactic-sized one. (5:00 PM
on Saturday is when I’m the most awake.)
SO… It was Baptism weekend at all three campuses. As it
turned out, I was on keyboard at the galactic-sized campus for all five of
their service celebrations. (Two on Saturday; three on Sunday.) Since I was “on
duty”, that automatically ruled that one out. Okay, I probably could have asked, but crowds in general tend to
unnerve me. (Yes. I know. I’m a musician. I can play in front of 4400 people
and be just fine. Ask me to sit among them and I need to be as close to the
door as possible.) As rowdy as they get, I’d have ducked back under the water and
probably drowned myself.
The small and medium campuses had joined up to do river
baptisms that evening. Of course, my same “river excuses” came back. Ch’thulu.
After setting all that aside, the only reason I almost didn’t go was because I knew I couldn’t bring my mother. (The
wheelchair wouldn’t make it.) On the way home from serving at the Galactic Star
Cruiser, I thought, “Maybe I should ask Bro #7. He could take pictures.” (See…
Now, I was making excuses TO do it.) I came home after church, slept on it,
decided enough was enough, and dug out the swimming trunks. Bro #7 said “Hold
up… You’ve never been baptized?!” and off we went.
Nope… Didn’t tell anyone at any of the campuses I was going
to do it. Just went there.
Like many people
headed to the river baptism service, instead of getting directions, I just
Googled the address. (I know “Google” isn’t a verb, but I’m using it anyway.)
We arrived at the edge of the hosts’ property, but had no clue whatsoever
because everyone was near the house! (We couldn’t see the house.) Fortunately,
we had plenty of company. We
eventually got around to where everyone else was. Yeah… There was still a bit
of a crowd, but not TOO bad. Once I gave Bro #7 my car keys, I knew I wasn’t
escaping. Jive turkey!
Actually, the service was enjoyable. We prayed and sang to
get us warmed up. The Pastoral Trio of RE, JM, and RP waded into the river and
got things moving. I think there were about 20 or so people. I waited until
last… admittedly, because I was still thinking “There could be ANYTHING in that
water.” Mind you, I probably should
have been worried about cutting my bare feet. Yet, I was still thinking that Ch’thulu
was going to rise up and eat me. (If you haven’t figured out how my imagination
works by now…) By the time it was my turn, I was pretty sure Bro #7 was ready
to knock me into the water if I didn’t get in there.
First, there was DJ, one of the worship pastors at the small
church. Gotta love DJ. She had the good camera out already.
DJ: KAREEM… You’re getting baptized?! Do you mind if I put
it on Facebook?
TKP: Sure… Go ahead.
My brother was going to t…
DJ: Yeah, I was going to do it regardless of what you said.
I’m so HAPPY I’m here for this!
Bro#7: (He flashed an evil grin. It was his way of letting
me know I was getting in that river one way or the other. He’s a 5th
Degree Blackbelt. I wouldn’t win that one. He also had my car keys and my
shoes. By the time I could climb out, he’d have already driven off and left me
stranded, soaked, and barefoot.)
By this time, the Pastoral Trio have now figured out I’m the
last one.
“Kareem, you’re getting baptized?”
“Yup.”
“Is this a reaffirmation or…”
“First time.”
“REALLY?!” They laugh and decide they’re all going to join
in on it. Yeah, I almost climbed right back out. Then, I remembered the steps
were slippery, my brother was waiting to shove me in, and DJ was waiting with a
camera and would probably take pictures if he did shove me in. She was going to get pictures one way or another!
Okay… I might be exaggerating. Might be.
“You have to bring
me back up. You promised.”
Now I’ve got these visions of being dunked in the river,
them letting me go, me flailing around, stumbling to my feet, and being sucked
down by the tentacle of Ch’thulu, as the three of them laugh
sinisterly. Yes… That’s right. I’m thinking this of three clergymen trying to
bring me to Christ. If you’ve read this far and haven’t figured out I have
issues, then there’s no hope for you.
So, I hand ZS my glasses, which now means I’m wading into
water with these three laughing pastor-type people and blind. My first thoughts?
TKP: Oh God… The
water is cold. Oh God… I just said the Lord’s name in vain.
RE: Yes… Twice, now.
TKP: Oh God… I
said that aloud. Oh God… STOP THAT! Wait… No… God, don’t YOU stop it. Stop ME
from stopping that. No… Don’t stop ME from stopping
that… Get ME to stop that… Wait? Did I just presume to command the Lord Almighty
to do something for me? GAAAAH!!! That’s NOT what I meant. Oh God, am I saying
all of this aloud?! Okay… WHEW… my mouth is closed. I think. ****!!! I DID IT AGAIN!!!
(No wonder I thought Ch’thulu was waiting to eat me. Here
I was about to be baptized and I was sinning along the way.)
By then, we’re out there. I believe RE was on my right, JM
was on my left, and RP was behind me. So, if they let me go, I was sure I could
grab at least two of them to take with me to my watery doom. Then I remembered,
I have to use one hand to pinch my nose shut while the other arm was crossed
over my chest. If they did let me go,
that probably meant I would at best only be able to grab one of them.
Yes, I know. I’m a
bad person for even thinking any of this.
Well, I’m glad to say the immersion went extremely well. Ch’thulu
decided not to eat me and I did indeed make it back above the surface of the
water. Aretha wasn’t singing “Oh Happy Day” like in my perfect baptism fantasy,
but I can say there were probably at least 40 Jesuses cheering on the bank.
I’ll take it!
So… after making it back to the bank, we hung around for a
bit, ate pizza… I barely introduced anyone to Bro #7, which meant that – Yes - I’m
still a horrible person. I was asked how I felt and I said “Okay.” Yep. I was
relieved and glad I finally did it… Then, Bro #7 looked at my phone and said
“Yep… You’ve just been tagged in a picture on Facebook.”
Sure enough… DJ posted a picture and tagged me. There were
Likes and the first response was from my cousin CL. Of course, that
significantly increased the likelihood that Mom would find out about the
baptism by checking Facebook! (Yes, that’s
right; I told neither of my parents that I was getting baptized. I’m a really horrible person.)
Bro #7 looked at me and said – in his own charming way – “Hehehehehe… You’re
dead.” After my no doubt being an anti-social post-baptized crazy-thinking
crazy-guy, we decided to make our way home. I’m still thinking “Yeah… I’m feeling
okay…”
Then, 20 minutes into the drive, I’m thinking “What the **** did I just do?!”
Yes, I know the obvious
answer, but I think the question beyond that is “What does it mean?”
If you were to ask me why
I got baptized, I couldn’t give you an answer. I can’t explain it. I can’t
explain it to you. If Jesus walked in the door and asked me, I couldn’t tell him
why, either. Yes, I’ve thought over it through and through. For years. I’ve spent my entire life
trying to figure out logical explanations. There isn’t one. Not for me. Maybe
I’ve just concluded that faith cannot be reasoned. If it did, would it be
faith? I don’t know.
Yes, I know. It’s not
an answer. Well, I’m still searching for it. Baptism was an important step
along the way.
Oh… And as for how
Mom reacted when I got home?
“Worst secret ever. Congratulations!”
TKP
8/31/2015
8/31/2015