Monday, June 18, 2007

Dear God,

Mine is the story of amazing grace. Grace that swept me up like a dust storm in Kansas. On days when I reflect upon my life I see grace sweeping over the landscape of my soul.

Some people consider a song to be the theme of their life. Mine is Amazing Grace. I think I must have first sung this song when I was a child. Must have heard the old timers sing it at the Atlanta Methodist Church in the tiny town of 500. It has become a theme song for me.

Weeks ago I was asked to baptize a woman who was struggling. Her church required an immersion. She had been sprinkled as a child but this mode of baptism was not recognized by her church. In order to do any kind of ministry in her church she had to be immersed. After much emotional suffering of what this all meant, she came to me. I knew her sister. Today it was just the two of us at the baptistery. We talked, I in my monk's robe and she in her swimsuit (I forgot a robe for her).

We talked about faith, what we believe and why we believe it. We thought of God's great mercy and sometimes institutional inflexibility. Before I read the story of Jesus' baptism, I told her the story of my travel to Israel in the 1990's.

I was leading a journey to the Holy Land. Eleven members of our church accompanied us. Several wanted to reaffirm their baptism in the River Jordan. But on our first day while traveling down the road from Tel Aviv, the tour guide told us that the schedule was tight and that we would not be going to the River Jordan this trip. I stood up at the back of the bus and moved determinedly down the aisle to the front. "Excuse me, sir, I brought several people with me who came to be baptized. We have to go to the River Jordan." I told him. "Sorry, we are just not able to do it." A little cranky, he apologized. I didn't let that stop the conversation.

We continued to talk until I told him I didn't care what it took to change the schedule but this was a life time desire for people. This was a once in a lifetime chance to stand in the same waters as Jesus and John the Baptist. It had been advertised and they needed to stand by their promise. He gave me a pretty dirty look then said he would see what he could do to change things. By the time I walked back to the back of the bus, I had several others ask me to baptize them as well.

A beautiful elderly African American woman told me that she had longed to travel to this sacred country, to be baptized, to renew her commitment to Christ, her savior. She took my hand. "Honey, all my life I have dreamed of coming here. I was baptized as a child. But I wanted to renew my love for Jesus by being baptized in the Jordan. Fourteen pastors have turned me down. Will you baptize me?" How could I turn down a devoted heart whose love for Jesus had lasted a lifetime? Of course I said yes.

When I sat down in my seat I had agreed to baptize more than a dozen people. The smiles that spread across their faces was nothing short of a heart filled with love for you.

The trouble was that I was wearing a back brace. I had hurt my back years before when I picked up a heavy box. I had been plagued with back pain for more than 15 years. How in the world would I be able to immerse persons in the River Jordan. I figured you would make a way.

A couple days later we stood by the famous river all dressed in white robes worn by saints for decades. I had carefully removed my back brace, trusting you to make all this possible. Standing next to my colleague in ministry, my covenant brother, I asked him to assist me in the baptisms. We stood across from one another as the truly penitent souls stepped into our small circle. One by one we baptized them in the name of the Father, Son and Holy Spirit. When all who wanted had stepped forward to be immersed in the holy water, I turned and asked Bill to baptize me so I too could reaffirm my faith. When I came up out of the waters, like the elderly African American woman, I too reached up toward the heavens in gratitude, my heart wholly yours. I had no pain.

I had to make a difficult decision whether to abide by a rigid doctrine where one baptism was celebrated, one time even if it was an infant baptism decided by parents or follow my heart, allowing other hearts to renew their vow standing in the light of your son. I simply could not say no to faith. Days later this created somewhat of a controversy as a journalist riding on our bus told my story on the front page of the Indianapolis Star. A rebel pastor, some called me.

We walked down into the water, the woman who wrestled to do the right thing about faith and her church's requirement, and I. I read the account of Jesus' own baptism. "You too are a daughter of God, in whom God is well pleased." I told her. Then I leaned her backward into the water.

Several minutes later after I had bid her goodbye, I stood alone in the center aisle of The Promise United Methodist Church. I looked up at the cross and remembered all the years of grace poured upon this unworthy soul. I remembered standing in the center of the tiny church at Taize and how after having my thyroid removed I couldn't sing. But there in the town of peace and reconciliation my song had returned. My voice cracking, I sang. And Sunday at the end of my sermon I sang it again. And the song burst forth in me again, "Amazing Grace, how sweet the sound that saved a wretch like me. I once was lost but now am found, was blind but now I see."

I bowed, dear Lord,
and threw you a kiss.
A kiss planted
on the cross
where your kiss has remained
from the first moment
of Calvary.
A wooden cross
lapped in the grace of God,
your grace.
I could see it,
taste, feel and hear it.
Grace abounding.
Once again
it swept over my soul.
Amazing Grace.

Love always, Andrea