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Welcome to 2013. I’m not much for resolutions in the new year, but I do think it’s a great opportunity to push reset and try again.
So if I had to officially state my plans for the year ahead, the following five objectives sum it up, more or less.
1. Believe more, doubt less. In myself, my God and others.
2. Ride more, drive less. If God is truly in control, why do I keep reaching for the wheel? In addition to faith, I could use a little patience. And self control.
3. Write more, think less. I’ve been a horrible writer lately. Not because I’m writing badly, but because I’m not writing regularly. I need to get stuff out of my head and down on paper (or screen).
4. Finish more, start less. Which is the opposite of my nature. The first thing I’m going to finish this year is that book I keep talking about. Long overdue.
5. Smile more, stress less. This will be the hardest one, because it really depends on whether I can accomplish objectives 1 and 2. I have a lot to be thankful for, and I’m just not thankful enough. The glass is actually half full if I’m being rational with myself.
And that’s what I’ll be focused on, more or less. Oh, and I also want to be fluent in Spanish, eat better, be smarter financially, be an even better dad and husband, go somewhere I’ve always wanted to go and grow a successful business. Ok, that’s it. Piece of cake, right?
On Sunday, I’m taking the plunge. Again. I’m getting baptized. Yes, I was saved when I was 11 and baptized then as well. I believed in God, in Jesus. I didn’t understand grace. How could I? I had no appreciation or connection with the symbolism or the sanctity of baptism. I just knew I was in the “club” and supposed to act like it, now that I had been dunked.
The first time I was baptized didn’t signal a new beginning for me. It signaled several decades of confusion about who God really is. To the best of my deductive abilities, it seemed to me that Christianity was part fire insurance policy, part obstacle course where I was to avoid all things bad and unholy, part high horse from which I could look down and let people know when they weren’t on the right path and lastly, part megaphone to be used for spreading the gospel through the streets.
Even my perception of God was twisted. Because of what I had been told and taught, I viewed God as:
Superman
God was a superhero, coming to my rescue, pulling me from a burning building just before the rafters caved in and I was crushed then incinerated. Once He had ensured my safety, he was off like a blast of light again to save the next poor soul from a fiery death. If I found myself in danger again, I could just call his name.
Santa Claus
You better watch out, better not cry, better not pout I’m telling you why…as the familiar Christmas tune goes. God was all-knowing. He was sitting up on his throne, keeping score, recording everything in a holy book. I had my “to do” list. I had my “not to do” list. And I knew He was always watching. I needed to perform well. And performing well meant doing as much on one list as I could, while avoiding as many items from the other list as possible.
Uncle Sam
I didn’t get to rest very long in my decision to follow God. It was now time to get me prepared to witness for Him. To get new recruits in the door. There was an army to build. I ran through Bible drills, scouted the neighborhoods, went behind enemy lines to knock on doors and witness to people who needed it most. Every event – Vacation Bible School, Tent Revivals, Easter Sunday – had a tally board with the number of conversions as the proxy for success.
I’m not trying to cast blame or dodge any responsibility for my misunderstanding of God, faith, grace, et al. But somewhere along the way, I missed it. And no one pointed it out to me.
Part of it was probably my immaturity, and lack of context. Again, how could I fully comprehend it? It’s because of this, because of the decades I spent missing the point, that I cringe every time someone announces that their six-year-old has accepted Jesus. I know that’s a controversial thing to say, and that I probably just sparked an outrage within you as you read this. But if I wasn’t ready at 11 to truly understand, even after being raised in church, I find it hard to believe that a toddler can appreciate the significance of being dunked in a tub of lukewarm water on a Sunday morning. I promise you, they are only thinking about how cold and wet they are.
I know that we are supposed to have “faith like a child” but I think that is much different than having “faith as a child.” Think about it…that child also believes there’s a dude in tights and a cape who can fly and fight crime, and an old guy in a red suit with a beard who delivers presents via a sleigh and eight reindeer.
I am not theologically equipped to argue what age is too young to sincerely accept Christ. But I do know that there is a level of maturity required before someone can live as a Christ follower and fully accept and appreciate His grace. For me, that took a long, long time. Not just because I was thrown off track early on. Long after I became aware of the need to have a personal relationship with God, I wasn’t open to the notion of truly pursuing one.
When they dunk me this Sunday, I will be approaching the ritual with full reverence. I’m ready to be clean. And if I am to proceed on my journey, I must deeply believe that my sins have been washed away. That I am a new creation in Him. And that His grace is sufficient for me.
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