Friends, 

 

Last Sunday, we baptized a baby as an act of initiation and welcome into the church. Tomorrow, we will have a memorial for a long-time member and usher here at St. Mark. Between the baby's age, measured in months, and the member's 95 years, we can see the span of what a baptismal journey looks like. So, let’s talk about baptism for a moment. 

 

One of the things that I loved most dearly when leaving my Pentecostal Holiness roots and joining the Presbyterian Church was the practice of infant baptism. To be sure, Presbyterians baptize confirmands and adults when appropriate, and do so joyfully. But infant baptism was a strange thing to me, growing up in a church that exclusively practiced “believer’s baptism.” We would ask, “How do we know this baby will grow up and accept Jesus as their Lord and Savior?” We would wonder if those crazy Presbyterians (Lutherans, Catholics, and other hydrophobic types) imagined there was some kind of magic quality to the water or the ritual, that would affect the baby’s future life. We heard stories of parents whose children were born with life-threatening challenges, frantically searching for a chaplain who could come and baptize the baby to ensure that it could go to heaven. (I remember being taught that the thief on the cross wasn’t baptized, but Jesus assured him he would be in heaven.) Baptizing a child seemed a strange thing when growing up in a tradition that put all of its eggs in the “come to Jesus” basket. 

 

Then, I actually talked to Presbyterians. The water was not magic; neither was the ritual. The baptized infant would – at least this was the intended process – grow up in the church, surrounded by those who had participated in the baptism (never a private event for Presbyterians!), taught in Sunday School, held in prayers, greeted by name even by those whom the child thought was just another ancient person, loved by the community, and one day offered a chance to study and confirm the vows that were made on their behalf when they were infants. And the reason for this process was key: Long before we are capable or willing to confess our faith, God’s grace is present. If Presbyterian theology can be boiled down to anything it is this: God goes first. God’s love is not contingent on our love, God’s grace is not a response to our faith, God is not waiting for us to make the first move. That’s what infant baptism means most of all, and it is exactly why I fell in love with the practice. Even knowing that most biblical narratives about baptism involve adults, it struck me as more biblical than anything else to see baptism as a declaration of God’s grace, not a sign of our decision-making. 

 

Many of us did not grow up in traditions that baptize infants. Still, it is true about our journeys that God’s grace was there all along, and long before we had any say in the matter. I was declared a beloved child of God without any say in the matter, just like I was named Donald Mark without my consent. Whether we are months old or almost a century old, what graces our lives from beginning to end is God’s love. That’s why I have always gravitated toward the song that says, “When we are living, it is in Christ Jesus. And when we’re dying, it is in the Lord. Both in our living and in our dying, we belong to God.” 

 

Amen. 

Mark of St. Mark