Closer to Home

Honestly I wasn't paying much attention in church Wednesday night. I heard the music and knew it was time for communion, but running through my head was, "I need to go to the store after this. And Target. And Petsmart. Do I have enough time? What time is it?" I stood up looking at the clock and about ran into the lady in front of me.

Yikes. I, thankfully, collected myself right before face planting into her paisley sweater. She turned around and smiled hopefully unaware that I had just about taken her out. I smiled, too. She had perfect hair, ruffled only slightly by the oxygen tubing tucked behind her ear.

She made her way to the altar slowly, but intentionally. I stayed behind wanting to see that moment as she did. She had to be at least 85. How many times in 85 years had she walked this path to the table of the Lord?

We knelt at the altar beside one other, a half a century apart in age, but common in purpose.

I take the time for confession before communion quietly in my pew. I take the service seriously and believe in it's importance. But, as one who is always onto the next thing, my brain tends to think, "Bread-body, Blood-Wine, dip, amen, go."

I tried not to stare, but I feel certain I did. "The Body." She took it into her hand like she was touching the Hope Diamond. Carefully folding her arthritic fingers around the wafer she pulled it to her chest and whispered, "Thank you." The officiant serving the communion nodded, but she wasn't thanking him.

"The Blood." Her hand shook as she sipped from the cup and a tear fell to the floor beside her. She closed her eyes and smiled like she was seeing things reserved for those who are closer to home.

Mesmerized by her reverence, I realized I was still holding my communion. I helped her stand up as she headed back to her pew and I stayed where I was longer than normal. I took the body and blood willing it's precious representation to soak into the core of my being.

And I prayed that my life would matter for eternity as I'm one more day closer to Home.

Into Newness of Life

Or do you not know that all of us who have been baptized into

Christ Jesus have been baptized into His death?

Therefore we have been buried with Him through baptism into death,

so that as Christ was raised from the dead through the glory of the Father,

so we too might walk in newness of life.

Romans 6

I'm not one who typically celebrates the anniversary of my baptism, but this year it just felt like the thing to do. One, I now go to a church that acknowledges the day, but also the phrase, "Walk in newness of life," has been circulating around my heart for the past several months.

So last week in the middle of my regularly scheduled existence, I remembered that 22 years ago on July 9th I made a profession of faith with the sacrament of baptism in a family friend's pool. It counts.

I can't be sure what my 9 year old self thought about God at that moment. I certainly did not understand fully what it meant to die in Christ and be raised to newness of life. Do I even understand that enough now? Probably not.

I always compare baptism to marriage in that you're standing there hoping you can keep your promises, but the best you can offer at that moment is your profession.

"I promise to love You always." Yeah, well, sometimes I'm more prone to kick and scream and act, well, unlovely.

"I believe in You." True then. Even more true today.

"I renounce Satan." Um. Duh.

And the profession goes on. I suppose I believed all of that 22 years ago, but standing here today, I cherish it. Stepping out of that water is when my living out that baptism began. Have I always lived like one completely forgiven and totally free? No. Do I always act like the Christian I professed to be that hot July day? Not hardly. It's okay.

As my hand touched the water last week for another one's baptism - I remembered. I remembered that as one redeemed I am dead to sin. I remembered that true life begins and ends with faith. I remembered that I share in the resurrection power by belonging to Him.

Newness of life available to me if I choose to receive it - 22 years ago, every day since, and this very day.