Fifty years ago yesterday, August 25, 1974, a pastor in southwestern Ohio baptized me as a new believer. A 12-year-old classmate had shared the gospel with me almost a year earlier, and God’s Spirit worked on my heart for all the intervening months. One week prior to my baptism, God made me His child when I gave my life to Him the best way I knew how as a 13-year-old. As I think about those life-changing days, here are some reflections that come to mind:
- I will always be grateful for that first church I attended. I had not been raised in a Christian home, but that church family quickly invited me in. Adults taught me the Word. Families invited me to lunch. Folks regularly encouraged me. In my ways, that congregation became my family – closer, in fact, than my family of origin at times. They were a gift to me.
- I am thankful for my baptism. My own theology is that baptism is not necessary for salvation, but that act of obedience was unquestionably a marker moment in my life. More than once in times of struggle, I’ve remembered God’s saving, transforming grace in my life—and I cannot help but think about my baptism, which was my most public profession of my young faith.
- I wish someone would have intentionally and strategically discipled me as a new believer. The church made a huge difference in my life, but they did not systematically disciple me. My church’s general approach was, “Come to everything we offer, and you’ll become a disciple of Jesus” – but I did not know how to connect all the dots on my own. Consequently, I struggled growing as a new believer with no Christian witness in my home.
- I now realize how much I took gathering as a congregation for granted. It was just the norm for me to head to church on Sunday (and other days of the week), and I did so without fear. This many years later, I know there are believers all over the world who don’t have that same freedom. They put their lives on the line to gather – but still they do gather. Fellowship is genuinely life-giving to these folks.
- I regret that my passion for telling others about Jesus in those early days of my Christian walk has sometimes waned. In those days, I told everybody, and I told them forcefully. I’m sure, in fact, I was obnoxious at times. Some days now, though, I have to work at building evangelism into my life—so much so that I pray almost daily, “God, give me a deep love for You that compels me to tell the gospel story.”
- Fifty years later, I’m more amazed by grace than ever. It was amazing to me then that God loved me enough to send His Son to die for me. Now, I’m even more amazed because I realize God called me to Himself knowing how often I would fail in the intervening years. He knew me, and He loved me anyway. I often speak of others who are “trophies of God’s grace” for me, and I pray I will be that for others in the years to come.
God is simply gracious and good. Amen.
