Baptizing My Son

Spending three weeks each summer at our family lakeside cabin outside Spokane, Washington is among my earliest and fondest childhood memories. In the late 70’s, parents could walk their kids down the jetway to board a plane - do the hand-off to the “stewardess” and maybe get a peek inside the cockpit. This past summer I entered the same airport I had so many times as a young boy, but this time with my family next to me, headed off to that cabin, that familiar and sacred place. 

Sacred because just out the back door and down the path is the lake. Now mixed with the  mud and silt at the bottom, are the ashes of my mom. And my dad. And their cat, Bogie. This place contains bittersweet memories I intentionally put there to forever mark the moment and say goodbye. Now I was a day away from putting another memory into that same water. Before me was another purposeful mark of significance - to personally baptize our son in the waters of the lake. Choosing to be baptized was his idea entirely. Knowing the significance it can bring, it needed to be weighty, notable, distinct. I had a moment the day before to think about the message of goodness and redemption this event would send our son from this day forward. 

You see, a few months earlier I communicated an altogether different message to our son; one of misconduct and a penalty. I learned a costly “life lesson” - in more ways than the fine levied from the CHP officer. Having to explain to him that this type of thing can happen, even to a generally thoughtful driver like dad - was the real price I had to pay: even dad can make a mistake - in this case an expensive one.

“Dad’s not perfect; he’ll make mistakes - just as you have and will - and therefore I have to pay up.” 

The message he gleaned from my actions - and more importantly - how I responded, resonated deep within him. It was uncharted territory for him to hear dad confess how he behaved poorly, and got caught by the police - lights and sirens and the whole bit. Yes, I saw his sidearm. No, it remained holstered. When caught, how one reacts is vitally important. When caught with our sin - do we anticipate a gracious, tender father who will calmly, wisely, tenderly explain the consequences - as well as extend grace? I paid a civil penalty, I told our son, but I pay no price whatsoever for a far steeper fine - my sin. As as a public acknowledgement of this forgiveness, I chose many years ago to be baptized. And now tomorrow, the son of an equally imperfect but wholly loved man who is accepted without penalty, my son will acknowledge the same. 

I considered again that through a symbolic renewal of our life and soul, baptism sends a public message to others that “I’m not my own...I’ve been bought at a price” and that I identify with the death and resurrection of Jesus. 

And so the next morning, as my family, aunts, uncles and cousins all gathered in waist-deep water, I said a few words I’d composed, dunked our son into the lake, and saw him emerge with the brightest of smiles as he heard the cheering and applause of his extended family, a few wiping away tears. 

This year our son saw a wider breadth of humanity: a more serious flaw of his father and a deeper experience of our heavenly father’s love and renewal through the act of baptism. 

I told our son that when I blow it - when I’ve painted myself into a corner - I’ve learned to pause and reach into my heart and access the power God has given me to get back up again. Recalling my baptism is one way I remember this - and he can now do the same. We’ll often pay a fine in some way, but now he knows that it’s not the end of the story. Rather, he too can recall his rebirth and ultimate redemption into eternal life, no matter how bad he blows it, through that sacred moment there with his dad in the waters of the lake. 

Where, even in this climate of isolation, can you seek to expand another's understanding of both your humanity, as well as your glory?
 

Dave Nieman
San Diego, California
Restoration Project Advocate