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Making
things happen - with integrity. A Weekly CyberMemo designed to keep you on task. Monday, April 3, 2000 Volume II Number 14
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FOCUS - Backyard Baptistry
There was a time and place when a backyard baptism got people in trouble with the law.
True, it was another time. Another place. But as recently as turn-of-the-last century, that would be a hundred years ago, an open baptism would be an act of defiance against the State Church. To administer one of the “sacraments” in an unauthorized manner, particularly if that person administering was himself uncertified, unordained, well, let’s just say some considered it treason of the most damnable sort.
The Scandinavian forebears of our congregation were renegades. A century and a half ago, they determined that the state church had become a stale, musty, lifeless bureaucracy. It was little more than the file cabinet of the King. The census bureau branch of the monarchy – with an affinity for the long form. Written records of His subjects - marriages, births, deaths, were all kept locked up in the churches. The clerics really did clerical work. They were keepers of the files. The church was the DMV of the kingdom. That is what those forebears would have thought.
Without anyone’s approval, these renegades started reading their own copies of the New Testament. They concluded that baptism in the first century had little to do with filing birth records.
It
had everything to do with a volitional commitment to take a spiritual stand.
To identify one’s self as a believer.
To declare one’s loyalties. To
be spiritually awakened, reborn. To
be washed clean from the old stuff. To
be bold before a gathering of witnesses, and enter voluntarily into the
fellowship of other believers.
When they started acting on their convictions, some were imprisoned. Others, in the ultimate protest, with their families boarded ships at the harbor dock, bid farewell to home and country, pilgrims who ventured across the sea to a brave New World.
* * * * * * * *
When Pastor Bill Trok and his wife Sharon moved to our town nearly two years ago, they came in the tradition of those renegade pilgrims. They knew one couple. That’s all.
Bill started “hangin’” around the neighborhood. He calls it “hangin.’” Sometimes he abbreviates it to “hang.” “C’mon over,” he’ll say. “Let’s hang.”
He drank a lot of bad coffee at Papa Bears – just hangin’ with the locals. He and Sharon took their boys to the local municipal swimming pool for lessons. They were hangin’ in the bleachers watching their kids with other parents. He met with every pastor in the community, just to be friends. He coached a kid’s soccer team. Shot a lot of hoops over at the high school gym. He met the school administrators. Teachers. The local sheriffs. He elbowed his way into the chaplaincy program, and at night would ride shifts around town, up and down the winding back roads, with local law enforcement.
Everywhere he went, people would ask “what do you do?” He’d smile and say, “I’m a pastor, I’m here to start a new church.”
And all over town, people said, “let me know when and where.”
* * * * * * * *
John works for the school district. He’s full time mechanic and a resident handyman. On Sunday mornings, he and his wife Brenda are a husband and wife maintenance team. Their home is a local reservation for Native Americans.
Initially, the Middle School, where John is assigned, turned down the application of a new church in town to use the facility on Sunday mornings. Too much liability. Can’t set a precedent. Separation of church and state. It’ll get in the way of our existing public programs. All the usual stuff.
The couple was surprised when the administration reversed their policy and agreed to allow the congregation to meet in the auditorium. It would not be convenient, but it meant some over-time pay for the family. The principal said, be sure to watch these people, and see that they set up without disturbing our rooms… and then clean up afterwards. John and Brenda agreed.
From the first Sunday, John and Brenda were surprised at how many showed up. A sound crew arrived first. They set up the staging. Plugged in a soundboard. Lugged big speakers up on the stage. Set up the mikes. Wires snaked around everywhere.
Then came the signs. A huge banner – “Welcome to Ridgeview Church.” Directions for parking. A welcoming table. Banners for “Ridgeview Kids.”
A childcare crew arrived. Toys for the kids. Rooms set up for learning and play. Teachers with name tags. Signs directed parents to the proper drop off point for their children.
John and Brenda set up chairs in the auditorium with several volunteers. Bill grabbed John’s hand. “Hey John, thanks for your help. Let me know if there are any problems at all. We want the school to be glad we are here.”
John said, “Sure.”
Then Bill added, “Let’s get together this week. I’d like to hang out with you and Brenda.”
John said, “OK. Sure.”
Something happened as Brenda listened to the people sing. When Bill taught from the Gospel of Mark, you could tell, her heart warmed. Her husband, John, listened too.
After one of those early Sundays, I said, “Brenda, we really appreciate the way you and John help us every Sunday.”
She looked right at me, with a look in her eyes that said, listen to me now. She told me, “Ken, this isn’t just a job for John and me. This church was meant to be here. Our town needs this church.”
I felt part of something like an answer to someone’s prayer.
* * * * * * * *
Selling is second nature to Rick. It’s brought him a lot of success. He’s got just about everything. A big house. A devoted wife. Terrific kids. He built a wild track around his four acres where the kids run their motorbikes until they can hardly stand up. Then they jump in the pool and cool off. Rick fires up the grill, looks out over the valley from the deck, and the whole gang enjoys a weekend barbeque after a day of fun.
Rick and Carla had just about everything. Except a spiritual center. Rick could not understand Carla’s interest in God. Her desire for the kids to know Him. To pray. He said OK. But he just didn’t get it.
He was too smart for that kind of thing. He knew about evolution. He knew about the atrocities of religion in history. He loathed those white haired characters on TV wearing pink jackets who raked in millions in the name of Jesus. Rick had better things to do on Sunday morning.
Then he started hangin’ with Bill.
Bill didn’t press the point. They laughed. Bill teased Rick about his quirky ways. Then Bill said he needed help setting up on Sunday mornings over at the Middle School. No, you don’t need to come to the worship services. I just need someone to oversee the set up. Carla wanted to go. So Rick thought, what the heck? I kinda like this guy. He certainly needs help.
Rick started meeting the people of Ridgeview. Ordinary folks. Good folks. Like me, he’d say. Kids. Families. A bunch of ‘em like motorcycles as much as I do, Rick thought.
Maybe there is something to this whole thing.
“I never thought it would happen,” Rick told me recently. “You can’t imagine how big a change this is for me, Ken. I had all the answers, all the reasons why none of this makes sense. Then I met these people. All my objections… well, they just went away.”
Carla listened in. Tears welled up in her eyes.
* * * * * * * *
When Tom came home from his first Promise Keeper’s event, he was a changed man. Tom’s a hard working tough guy who runs his own construction company. Raelene didn’t understand all the God talk, but she liked knowing that he renewed his vow to stand by the promise he made to her that day years ago when he said “I do.” Something in his eyes said he meant it.
With more conviction than she’d ever seen, Tom said, “Raelene I don’t want to go to heaven without you. You’ve got to make your decision.”
Raelene said, “hey, you are the one who needed fixing, not me.”
It took several weeks and some long conversations with trusted friends. But not long afterwards, Raelene and Tom held hands and prayed, together.
* * * * * * * *
Six months ago, Deborah’s husband walked out. This time, she knew. It was final. He’d never come back.
Her horse and her dogs were some consolation, but the isolation and the hurt nearly crushed her. Some friends who lived two hours away telephoned and said they’d heard about a new church in her town. They call it Ridgeview. They meet over at the Middle School, they said.
Early one Sunday morning, they drove up the hill, picked up Deborah and brought her to the 9:30 service. She hasn’t missed a Sunday since.
Today, she runs the welcome table. When she greets new people, she tells them they are going to like this group. There’s a convincing genuineness in her voice. People respond to her nodding in agreement. They look around and say, “I think you are right.”
* * * * * * * *
I asked Bill, “How many are on the list?”
“Seventeen.”
“Wow,” I said.
“I’m gunna sprinkle one of ‘em. I’ve never done that before.”
“Really?”
“Yeah.” Bill explained, “it has nothing to do with the old baptism debate. It’s just that one of our people is terrified of water. Terrified. We don’t want to be calling the paramedics out. So I’m gunna sprinkle her.”
* * * * * * * *
Last Sunday afternoon over a hundred people gathered round the Warfel’s swimming pool. It took a full day to heat it up, so the water was comfortable.
Bill was first in. With the help of his Youth Director, Matt, the two of them baptized all seventeen people. One at a time. Each with a story of God’s redeeming grace. There was a burly carpenter, a father and a son together, moms and dads and sons and daughters, all taking their stand. As each approached the step, coming out of the baptismal waters, the crowd, grandparents and parents and high school kids and little rascals, everyone applauded.
Also among them – Rick, Tom and Raelene (together), and Deborah.
Standing on the edge, about two feet back, was Brenda. Bill stood between her and the water. She shivered – a combination of fright and deep anticipation. This would be a day she would cherish for a lifetime. A hush fell over the crowd around the pool.
John stood a short distance behind her. His head held high. He looked proud.
“Brenda,” Bill asked, “have you received Jesus Christ as your Lord and Savior, and are you committed Him?”
“I have and I am.”
“On the basis of your confession of faith in Christ, I now baptize you in the name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit.” Bill took a silver chalice, filled with ordinary pool water, which for that moment truly became holy water, and poured its contents over Brenda’s head. Then he embraced her with a love that came from God himself.
The applause emanating from a backyard in the heart of an orange grove rose all the way up to heaven.
I was there. I’ll never forget it.
* * * * * * * *
John and Brenda were among the last to leave.
They thanked the Warfels. Pastor Bill walked with them down the driveway. They talked about what an amazing day it had been. As they said goodnight, the school maintenance man and his wife turned to their car. Bill overheard Brenda.
She told her husband, “At last we have the big family we always prayed for.”
* * * * * * * *
Leaders are called upon to take a stand. To make decisions. To maintain loyalties. To reach out to people – your customers, your colleagues, your staff, your associates, your family.
The waters of leadership can be fearful waters. Lonely waters. Sometimes the baptism isn’t baptism of water. Sometimes it’s the baptism of fire.
Today is Monday. Go ahead and get in there. Take your stand. Be the renegade. Be the pilgrim. Be the person they can count on.
Maybe there is someone in your world who really needs time with you.
Make the call. Tell him or her, “Hey, let’s hang.”
© Copyright Kenneth E. Kemp 2000
Special Thanks to my good friend David Belcher, owner of Rhino Media Group and creator of WisdomGram
LeaderFOCUS is a service of Good Stewardship Associates
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