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9 myths about baptism

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Baptism is still considered by most denominations to be a very important moment; yet there is relatively little teaching about it in churches and much confusion about it still abounds. Here are 9 myths about baptism

baptism

Photo by ucb, reused under CC license

1. You have to be ready to be baptised.

Why is it a myth? Because we couldn’t get ourselves ready. We couldn’t make ourselves acceptable in the sight of God. The idea that you’d have to be a shining example of good behaviour before being allowed to get baptised, is just wrong.

So, you might tell me, “ah, but you have to know what you’re getting yourself into before you can make the decision”. A bit like knowing whom you’re marrying. And whilst there is some truth in that, the argument can be pushed to the extreme: why not complete a doctorate in theology before making the decision?
Within the Anglican church, a simple set of six questions is asked to candidates for adult baptism. They’re simple enough and they are most definitely sufficient. I would even argue they ask too much, in too theologically loaded phrasing, and that the word “candidate” in that setting is incredibly misused (as if you could fail at baptism!)

We love,  because God loved us first. That love is not conditional upon our actions, our theological knowledge, or any such thing. The same goes for baptism: as soon as we are able to recognise that love and where it comes from, we are as ready for baptism as we’re going to be.

2. Once you’re baptised, you stop sinning.

If only! Baptism is no magic wand. It is not something that turns you instantly from a sinner into a saint. It marks symbolically the start of the sanctification process, the death to the old self and the birth to the new self. But being baptised does not make us perfect. Church remains a hospital for sinners rather than a museum of saints.
Crucially, though, thinking that sin stops after baptism reinforces the (wrong) idea that you have to be ready for baptism: ready to give up sin, and strong enough to do so. But all that is asked is a willingness to do so – to turn to Christ and to realise that we have something better to hold on to.

3. Baptism is, first and foremost, an opportunity for evangelism.

I have heard that one before, and more than once. Some churches encourage this by getting the baptised-to-be to give a testimony of how they came to Christ at the baptismal service. It is true that baptism is a public affirmation of a private change.Yet imagine the same sentence with “baptism” replaced by “marriage”. Or “Christmas”. It would sound weird to treat either of these occasions as primarily opportunities for evangelism. It is true that they are moments when unchurched people may attend a service; and as such they do constitute opportunities for evangelism. But that’s not what they are about.
Just so with baptism. Leaving the God-directed part of baptism, the commitment to God out of it, makes baptism a hollow shell.

4. Baptism is a private affair.

Faith can be seen as a private affair in secular countries. On top of that, baptism is something very intimate, and personal: it can be seen as either the start or a significant stage at least in a very personal journey. Therefore, some could argue, baptism should remain between me and God, and whosoever is baptising me.
If baptism were private, though, it would be a private affirmation of a private change: in other terms, it would simply be a validation of what has already happened. A bit like receiving your degree certificate through the post. Is that validation necessary, though? Considering baptism as something private is both giving the event too much importance, and the process of sanctification too little.

5. If it’s not full immersion, it doesn’t count.

A lot of modern, evangelical churches insist on baptism being full immersion. I find that quite ironic, given the same churches’ reticence to follow set liturgy, but are so deadly intent on doing other things the “proper way”. Yes, βαπτίζω, whence we get the word baptism, does mean “immerse”. And yes, symbolically, full immersion implies the entire person, body and mind; and therefore reflects the fullness of the commitment made to Christ in baptism. And refusing full immersion for the sake of keeping your sinning hand from this commitment denotes a lack of willingness to submit to Christ altogether!
But while full immersion should not be shunned, it should not necessarily be insisted on: the apostles gave specific guidance on baptism, which recognises baptism by affusion as a proper way to proceed, and suggests other parts to baptism which aren’t really adhered to; and – most importantly, what is it supposed to count for?

6. If it’s not said with the proper words or by the right person, it doesn’t count.

This is the opposite end of the low/high-church spectrum. There is an authorised liturgy for baptisms in the Church of England – but this is more for the sake of unity than on theological grounds (I hope!). After all, in all that, the same as above applies: what is it supposed to count for?

7. Baptism is not really important, so it doesn’t matter whether you get baptised or not.

This is a tough one. If baptism is not what you get saved by, why the hell should you get baptised? After all, it’s not like you’re going to stop sinning afterwards…
While you’re at it, why should you take communion? Or worship?

And it is true – some denominations do not practise baptism. But then the question comes up: why did Jesus get baptised? What was the point, other than showing us the way, and marking his acceptance by his Father?

Baptism is a mark of submission, it is a step forward, an important stage in a journey – and a public commitment to which we can be held to account. That, in itself, makes baptism important – without even needing to use scripture as back-up.

8. Baptism is so important that if you don’t get baptised, you’ll rot in hell. Therefore, babies should be baptised.

Again at the opposite end of the spectrum, some denominations hold that baptism is necessary for salvation; and therefore baptise babies just to make sure they will make their way to heaven. Yet grace, not baptism, is what saves us. And that grace is through faith, not through baptism. (And, in any case, those who are saved were predestined… what? :-P )

9. Infant baptism is an abomination/plainly repugnant to the Bible

While infant baptism seems to suggest that salvation is obtained through reception of sacraments, it is not necessarily the theology behind the practice. Baptism denotes more than a one-way process where an individual declares their informed decision to follow Christ. It also marks a welcome into the Christian church; and there is no reason to withhold that welcome from children. How Jesus deals with children goes a long way to show that.

What are your thoughts? How do you see baptism?

Death is a bitch

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I wonder how you felt when you read this title. Which word shocked you the most? Was it the mention of death? Or was it the cursing?

Photo: Martyn Gorman, re-used under CC license

There is a certain rawness to cursing which cannot be carried across by polite language. Because curses, when unexpected, shock. Just like death: when it happens unexpectedly to someone close to you, it shocks you. And it wouldn’t do the bereft justice; it wouldn’t be kind or loving towards them to sweeten it up with polite words. Saying words such as “A passing is a difficult moment” is plainly repugnant to the pain that the bereft feel. Nearly as bad is “My condolences“: all of these make the suffering an abstract object and simply hide its reality, alongside death’s.

But death that surprises – sudden death: that has the same sort of rawness to it. The kind of shock that makes you go back and check in disbelief. The kind of shock that makes you want not to believe it happened. You are left completely perplexed: why did it happen? How is it fair? Where does that leave… me?

And there’s no answer to give to these questions, none that will bring solace. The promise of a heaven up there somewhere does not bring any form of answer to these questions – it is simply placing hope in a distant future, boxing in our pain with a hope that can never be tested, and with a hope that is, if considered independently of the rest of the promise, incredibly fragile.

So that’s why I picked this title: because I did not want to sugarcoat death into something that “just happens, and life goes on.” And, in more than a way, I think this title sums up perfectly what I want to say about death.

There’s more to that statement, too: death is a bitch. It has been submitted. We can look at death, and it will still bite, but it cannot hurt us – not really: death has lost its sting. This last sentence is far more offensive than the title, though: it appears to say that the pains that people feel at the death of loved ones is imaginary or faked. No, these pains are real.

But their truth is passing. See, the main stinging power of death is that it reminds us that we’re not in control. But death is not the victor; death is not the one in control; and neither are we. We don’t own our lives. The things that make us feel secure are just passing, transient illusions; until we realise they are not for us to hold on to. In giving ourselves over to the One who saves, we can see death for the submitted bitch it truly is; and that has the power to comfort.

And once death has lost its sting, we enjoy life eternal, and we enjoy it now.

Note: for any friends who may worry after reading this, I want to make abundantly clear that I did not personally suffer a bereavement. But I was told of someone getting run over and the pain was so visible it was impossible not to be moved.

Drawing near the throne

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Today, I gave my first sermon ever, in the university Chaplaincy at Warwick. A fairly daunting experience, but I’ll get back to that later (probably next week), but ultimately an amazing one. So this week, I thought I’d share the sermon here.

The readings it is based on are Mark 13:1-8 and Hebrews 10:1-14 and 19-25. Here, you can find a downloadable version of my notes, and you can also listen to the recorded sermon here:

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At 1,200 words, it is a relatively short sermon (by evangelical standards if not necessarily by Anglican standards), but it would be an exceptionally long blog post, so here is a quick run-down of what I said.

It is easy to focus on what we do: on the fact that we go to church, that we pray, that we hang out with friends, etc. Regardless of the type of action that we focus on (even if it’s the action of others whom we  identify with), that becomes what we boast in, but also what we rely on: it becomes the temple that the disciple is telling Jesus about in Mark 13:1.

In doing that, we are, in some way, choosing what God should be well-pleased with. We are coming to God, yes – but on our own terms, isolating certain areas of our lives that we wish to show off to Jesus. And, as he retorts, this is all vanity.

Thankfully, our actions are not what give us salvation, or what makes the Father well-pleased. That means that, equally, they do not condemn us. Thinking that we are doing things in order to please God in our own strength; or that if we sin or, worse (!), do not show up at Bible study, we will be bringing shame to the name of Jesus – thinking that is futile. And it flies in the face of Jesus’s continuing work of intercession.

See, in the same way that, because we are in Jesus, we can ourselves call God “Abba”, “Father” – in that very same way, because we are in Jesus, when God looks upon us, it is his Son he sees. Therefore, in him, God is well-pleased with us. And we can therefore draw near the throne, not trusting in our own righteousness or in our own strength, but knowing that God sees Jesus in us.

When we come to Jesus, we can stop looking at the past to justify us, we can stop trying to show ourselves up to God. We can do like Zacchaeus, and allow Jesus’s transformative power show in exclaiming all that he will do. That’s how the “Therefore” in Hebrews 10:19 works: because of the sacrifice made once and for all, we can draw near the throne.

But drawing near the throne without listening would be pointless. We need to consider, as Paul says, how the work of Jesus transforms us. We need to reflect on how our lives have been changed; to feel part of God’s family; and finally, to look to Jesus as our perfect reflection, which keeps on spurring us on to good.

And we need to remember that it is not only ourselves who are allowed to draw near the throne in Jesus, but also anyone who believes in him. We must see Jesus in others, and see that they have just as much justification to draw near the throne as we do. Then, let us reflect that unity in keeping on meeting together, and loving one another.