“Present yourselves to God as those who have been brought from death to life… For sin will have no dominion over you, since you are not under law but under grace.” — Romans 6:13–14

About once a year, someone I’ve never met phones the church and asks if I will baptize their baby.

Sometimes it’s a parent. More often it’s a grandparent.

I’ve come to love these conversations because they are almost never really about baptism.

They’re about love.

Someone loves this child so fiercely that they want to be absolutely certain they’ve done everything they can to make sure the child is safe with God. Sometimes there’s a health crisis. Sometimes there’s been a recent loss in the family. Sometimes they simply carry a deep conviction that baptism is necessary for eternal life, and they don’t want to take any chances.

The interesting thing is that this isn’t actually how the United Church understands baptism.

For us, baptism isn’t a ritual that gets someone into heaven. It isn’t spiritual insurance. It isn’t something we do to convince God to love a child.

It’s something we do because we believe God already does.

Baptism is the Church saying, “You belong here.” It’s the congregation promising to help parents raise a child in faith. It’s a public declaration that none of us journeys through life alone.

I like it.  In fact, I like it a lot.

Because I think every single one of us needs a community to help raise us. Kids do, but so do grown ups. We all need people who will encourage us, challenge us, laugh with us, and occasionally remind us who we are when we’ve forgotten.

“It takes a village,” as the old saying goes.

Of course, when someone calls asking for baptism, they usually aren’t looking for a lesson in United Church theology. They’re looking for reassurance.

And sometimes pastoral care means meeting people where they are.

Over the years I’ve baptized children whose families never came back to church afterward.

Once it was grandparents who were terrified because their grandchild was facing a serious medical crisis.

Another time it was a family who had become disconnected from church altogether but were longing for some kind of spiritual anchor.

Neither family became regular members of the congregation.

I think that’s okay. Not because church community isn’t important; because it is.  But I don’t believe God’s grace depends on whether your butt is in a pew on Sunday morning.

You see, for a few moments, I had the privilege of walking alongside those families as their minister. We shared a holy moment together. Sometimes that’s enough.

Besides, the baptism we celebrate today bears only a passing resemblance to the baptisms that happened in first-century Palestine. Like every ritual in the Church, it has evolved. And that shouldn’t surprise us.  You see, rituals are meant to point us toward God, but, we have a tendency to turn them into barriers instead.

Maybe it’s because human beings really like certainty. You know, like knowing where the lines are.  Who’s in, who’s out.  Who’s righteous, who’s sinful.  Who’s following God ‘correctly’ and who’s not.

I grew up in church hearing that I needed to “accept Jesus into my heart.” And so I did.  And, to be perfectly honest, I wasn’t motivated by overwhelming spiritual enlightenment. I just figured it was the safest option. If eternal life depended on saying the right prayer, why wouldn’t I? It seemed like a sensible insurance policy.

Unfortunately, not long afterward I learned about something called “backsliding.” Apparently you could pray the prayer, be saved, and then somehow undo the whole thing. Suddenly faith felt less like grace and more like trying to keep a very fragile membership card from expiring.

It turns out Christians are remarkably good at turning grace into another achievement.

Which is why Paul’s words in Romans feel so refreshing.  He says “You are not under law but under grace.” Not better laws. Not stricter laws. Not more enlightened laws.

Grace.

Paul isn’t inviting people into a new religious system. He’s describing an entirely different reality.

You see,  Paul isn’t dividing the world into “good people” and “bad people.” He’s talking about competing powers that shape our lives.

Fear is a power.

Shame is a power.

Violence is a power.

Greed is a power.

Grace is also a power.

The question isn’t whether we’ve managed to become morally perfect. The question is which power gets to define us.

That feels like a much more honest way of talking about faith. Because I know very well that there are Christians who would look at my life and conclude I’ve chosen the wrong side.  After all, I’m a woman in ministry and that’s enough for some people.

We’ve seen that reality again this month with news of further restrictions on women serving in leadership within parts of the Southern Baptist Convention.

I’m also unapologetically progressive. I believe our faith is measured less by how loudly we defend doctrine than by how faithfully we care for “the least of these.” I believe human rights don’t stop at the church door. I believe every person bears the image of God and deserves to be treated with dignity.  Now, these convictions don’t make me feel morally superior. They simply feel like the logical consequence of believing that God loves the whole world.

All of it.

All of us.

And maybe that’s why I find myself returning to baptism over and over again. Not because there’s something magical about the water. But because baptism reminds us of something that’s easy to forget.

God’s love comes first.

Before we’ve sorted out our theology. Before we’ve proven our worth. Before we’ve learned the right words. Before we’ve become the sort of people we imagine Christians are supposed to be. Grace comes first.

Always.

The Christian life isn’t about protecting that grace through perfect behaviour or flawless belief. It’s  about learning, day after day, to live as though grace really is true. To present ourselves to God, as Paul says, as people who have already been brought from death to life. Not because we’ve earned it. Not because we’ve mastered faith. Simply because that’s who God has already declared us to be.

And honestly?

I can’t think of a better place to begin.

Blessings today, and remember you are Loved.

~Rev. Lynne

 

https://audio.com/lynne-gardiner/audio/office-hours-more-than-a-ritual-1