February 8, 1993: Born. A sinful being into a broken world.
July 11, 1993: Infant Baptized. My parent’s dedication to raise me in the Lord.
October 10-14, 2008: Saved. The most messy and beautiful few days of my life.
September 24, 2011: Baptized in the Spirit. Radically healed and filled.
July 6, 2015: Baptized in Water. In Honduras by a Spiritual Father.
…a great story and timeline. Well, of course, I’m partial- it’s mine!
And maybe it doesn’t quite follow the norm.
A million questions flood my mind…
Why did I wait 7 years to get water baptized?
What’s the theology behind infant/adult water baptism?
Wait, I have baptized others- is that even okay?
What do I really believe about the baptism of the Spirit?
…and none of it really matters to me right now.
In the midst of these questions while considering getting baptized (which honestly wasn’t really a consideration because my heart was unignorably stirred when Mami Gracie mentioned that Papi Lee would be happy to baptize us here and now), I came across a story in Acts 10 that really brought me freedom.
As I had found up until that point in Acts, the “normal” pattern for sons and daughters being brought into the Kingdom was:
1) Hear the gospel
2) Respond to the Word and Confess Jesus as Lord
3) Repent of their sins
4) Get water baptized
5) Be filled with the Holy Spirit
But this story breaks the mold in almost every way. First, Peter falls into a trance during prayer and the Lord commissions him to go preach the Word to Cornelius and his family, a Roman officer- a Gentile. All “rules” are already out the window here. As Peter is preaching, before he has even given the “altar call”, the Holy Spirit fell and the men began praising God in tongues [Acts 10:44-46]. After this, they are baptized and water and continue to learn in the faith.
The box I’ve put the Lord in has {once again} been shattered.
It’s my story.
And it’s aligned perfectly to what He has willed and purposed for me.
There’s even more beauty, reconciliation, restoration, and understanding in it that I could ever imagine.
Cheers to dying to the old self in the waters of baptism-
I’ve found the Lord prefers to be found in a river instead of a box anyways.
