The church held to believer's baptism, in contrast to infant baptism. Infants were dedicated sometimes, but never baptized. Jesus, our example, was baptized as an adult. We disapproved of baptizing babies, who could not understand what was happening and its significance. (Decades later, an Episcopal priest asked me, "Do you understand what happens in baptism?") We practiced immersion, again following Jesus. Our baptistery was behind and raised above the pulpit. What we saw from the congregation was a window-like opening that let us view the pastor and the person being baptized from the waist up. On the back wall there was a beautiful river scene in soft colors painted by one of our missionaries from Central America; he touched it up every time he came home on furlough. If there was to be a baptism, the tank was filled and somehow the water was warmed. Men and women entered from different sides for modesty’s sake; each gender had a changing room off the baptistery. In white robes, the person was assisted down a few steps to meet the pastor. For me, the decision to be baptized came in seventh grade. I remember it vividly; I was out of my brace for the event, of course, a treat in itself. I had a new skirt, green with a gold coin print. I loved that skirt. My parents were both there, an unusual event. My mother was with me in the changing room to get me out of the brace, a maneuver that required pulling up on the two metal bars in the back. I could never get out of the brace on my own. Dad was sitting in the back of the auditorium, snuffling, embarrassing me. He may not have attended church regularly, but he got emotional about it pretty quickly. I stepped tentatively into the pool, my white robe billowing behind me. Dr. Luttrell, a grandfatherly type, baptized me, one dunk, holding my nose. The formula was “in the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit.” Except he said, “I baptize you my little sister . . . ” And I have remembered it and his warm voice, because I wasn’t little physically, and because I was the big sister, responsible and in charge, held accountable if something went wrong with my little brother. No blinding light, no flash of insight, none of the strange, sudden warmth granted to Pascal or John Wesley. Life went on as it had before, but I had a deeper sense of belonging.
2 Comments
Deb Soutgward
8/22/2022 07:32:50 am
Recently saw a Baptistery on Wheels (a trailer with one) …a first for me to see!
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Brian Shelburne
8/22/2022 04:54:18 pm
Thanks for sharing. I was baptized as an infant (so i have no memories) but I have strong memories of my own confirmation. I seem to recall that during confirmation one took over the baptismal vows made when they were infants.
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Baptist GirlI was a conservative Baptist girl who grew up to become a career Christian, working first in a Baptist school and then in a Baptist college. For about three decades, it was very good until it wasn’t, and I had to leave. But the Baptists formed me. This is my homage to the good times and good people of the world I left, finally, at forty-three, when I became an Episcopalian. These are my memories; others might disagree with my recollections. So be it. Archives
January 2024
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