How Young Is Too Young: Some Thoughts on Baptizing Young Children

Posted on April 11, 2013 by vanderbiltwife

Sometimes I’m grateful that when I was very young, we were Methodists.

I joke sometimes that I’ve been baptized both ways – as an infant and by choice, as a feverishly religious 10-year-old.

But why, you ask, would I be grateful for that? Well, I didn’t have the chance or the pressure to “ask Jesus into my heart” as a very small child. We moved to Virginia when I was 8, where we visited every single Methodist church in a 20-mile radius. My parents didn’t like any of them, and that is how we ended up Southern Baptist, attending a church a few miles down the windy road.

I fully believe in “adult” baptism – that is, baptism that is a symbol of a choice made in a person’s heart to accept Jesus’s crucifixion, resurrection, and saving grace. We have our children dedicated as infants to show our commitment to raising them to know Jesus, but not sprinkled as some denominations do.

So let me tell you a story.

I was a camp counselor the summer after my freshman year of college, along with three other precious and equally insane girls my age. We led worship at weeklong mission camps, where the students participated in home renovation projects for those in need. In between weeks of camp, we also worked at a traditional cabin-in-the-woods kid camp, re-cooperated at a sketchy, ancient church in downtown Richmond, or were allowed a few days at home.

But the endcap to our summer was assisting at the Youth Evangelism Conference, a statewide event for middle and high-school students. It consisted of a few nights of revival-type services – only with rockin’ Christian music instead of the Gaithers – and a day at an amusement park with a big-name concert at the end. (I think that year it was Audio Adrenaline.)

I’d been to the conference as a youth but never experienced quite the flavor of preacher as they had those few nights. “Repeat after me,” he would instruct. “Friends … don’t let friends … go to hell.” That’s all fine and dandy, but he also insinuated that no one in the room was actually saved because they were probably so young when they asked Jesus into their hearts they didn’t mean it. The counseling rooms flooded with students, and I was left to talk to kids who had all the sudden been forced to doubt their salvation. It sucked.

I didn’t know what to tell those kids then, and I’m not sure I would know what to say today. I’m glad I was an older kid at 10 when I was baptized after a very clear calling from my Heavenly Father. No, I didn’t know all the minutiae of the Bible – who does? – but I had a firm idea of Jesus and His sacrifice.

Fast forward 12 years and yes, I still think that pastor was way too aggressive. He scared me and had me doubting my own salvation at the time. I had to shake my head of the hoopla and examine my heart. But I do get a little bit what he was conveying.

It made sense for me when I read Katie Orr’s post today at Inspired to Action. She writes,

Our kids want to please us, so desperately. If we talk about becoming a Christian enough, most children will ultimately come out and say that they want to be one. I’ve witnessed many parents put a ton of stock in the fact that they prayed with their child once, but this is the only “evidence” they have of their salvation.

Salvation is and isn’t a one-time deal. Once the “deal is done,” the Holy Spirit is sealed inside you. But there’s also the continual growing. As parents we are responsible for the spiritual education of our kids – not the schools, not the church. And teaching your kids about God doesn’t stop when they accept Christ. That’s the beginning!

Maybe all these youth who flooded the conference rooms of the amphitheater in Richmond, Virginia, circa 2001, had parents who were doing nightly Bible studies with them, praying for them ceaselessly, showed interest in their spiritual well-doing. But I think maybe, like in a lot of things, it’s easy for parents to get lazy when the going looks good. (Hello, preaching to the choir.)

I don’t want my kids doubting their salvation at 12, 16, 30. I want to provide them with a background so they know how desperately Jesus loves them and pursues them, but I can’t make their decisions for them. I pray fervently that they will know the height and depth of God’s love, but I can’t make them believe it. And I pray that I won’t pressure them into anything they aren’t ready for – even baptism.

What Was That about the Contingency Plan?

Posted on April 5, 2013 by vanderbiltwife

It’s been a year since our friend Mike, once my “future husband,” a groomsman in our wedding (yes, how’s that for irony?), the biggest smile I’ve ever met, killed himself.

I can’t erase the finding out, texting the news to my best friend (obviously I had lost my mind, how insensitive could one be?), watching the amazing funeral service via live stream on our giant-screen Mac next to my husband, blubbering.

We hadn’t seen Mike in years, we didn’t have any idea what was going on with him, but obviously he was an important person in the formative years of our relationship and thinking of him taking his own life haunted me for weeks. It still does, of course, but not to the same degree.

Just before then, I was writing gung-ho on my devotional. In February, after last year’s Blissdom, I wrote about canceling my contingency plan. I was writing fervently, convinced I could finish the composition in April and work on editing and design in May, hoping to release the e-book on May 26, 2012 … my 30th birthday.

Before April 4, the morning we found out, the words flowed freely. After, they stopped. I spent so much time haunted by nightmares and waking thoughts there was no room left for biblical peace to flow.

And then in July I got pregnant unexpectedly. And if you know me and this blog at all, you probably know that I am an absolutely miserable pregnant woman. The shock of the pregnancy, the sickness that followed, the attempt just to keep up with my other kids until Joshua was born on March 16th … it was all I could do.

During October I wrote 31 Days of The Book. It brought new air to me spiritually, and I usually found something to write about. But I also don’t want to recycle a lot of already-published posts for an e-book. I want at least half of it to be fresh.

And here it is, April again, with nothing but 7000 words in a Google doc titled “devotional” staring at me.

With Jeff Goins, whose blog and story have meant a lot to me the last year, I am forcing myself to shout I AM A WRITER. No matter how much it doesn’t feel true right now. Even in newborn exhaustion, sciatic pain, feelings of absolute psychosis … I am still a writer. It is what God made me. And I still want to finish this book and see where it goes. So much.

Day 30: Atonement

Posted on October 30, 2012 by vanderbiltwife

“He cared for them [the Israelites] with a true heart and led them with skillful hands.” Psalm 78:72

The same skillful hands that led the Israelites lead me today. A wondrous thought! Am I as precious to Him as they? I know the answer – it’s found in a Love Letter and nailed, scarred hands and feet.

I wonder if He is ever impatient, full of fire at our tactless lethargy. Has it really taken us more than two thousand years to spread His Gospel to all people?

Where the God of Jeremiah had righteous anger, where He literally saw blood – the spilt blood of Israel – He now sees just The Blood. Blood of His lamb. The only sacrifice that made Him breathe deeply and say, “Yes. That. Is. Enough.” Thank You, Jesus.

Black as my sins were,
He said, “I will take them
Pound them to My feet
Push them to My skull
Anchor Me to the cross
For your communion
Your atonement
Your redemption
– Your chance.”

__________

I share these thoughts again this year because I want to end with atonement. We began with the scapegoat in Leviticus, a gorgeous sign of what was to come in Jesus’ sacrifice.

Everything, EVERYTHING in the Old Testament sets up the atonement in Christ. Yes, there have been other lessons and stories scattered here. So much to learn in the whole Bible.

But I would be remiss if I didn’t mention one more time that the whole shebang is about Christ. It’s all His story and God’s work and His plan. And His plan was redemption. Not through animal sacrifice, but through the blood sacrifice of His only precious Son. The true spotless Lamb.

There will be a wrap-up post tomorrow on what this 31 days has been like for me. I hope you’ve enjoyed reading it … but more than that, I simply desire to give Him glory. I hope I have done that.

Day 28: Ruth

Posted on October 28, 2012 by vanderbiltwife

I’ve been contemplating my reading of The Book of Ruth for a few days now.

(Of course, the true reason I haven’t written is that despite the best intentions, these posts weren’t written in advance as I had hoped; yesterday was Libbie’s 4th birthday and I threw her an entirely-too-big Beauty and the Beast party!)

Here is what I noticed this time around reading Ruth: despite the fact that she had been married for 10 years to her husband (Naomi’s son), Ruth had not had children with him. I think that must be significant; because in other parts of the Bible, a woman’s barren womb is a big deal – think Sarah, Rachel, Hannah, and Elizabeth.

I read a few articles/sermons about the topic. One argued Ruth was not barren per say. Her first husband’s name (Mahlon) means sickly, so it’s possible he (and perhaps his brother, Orphah’s husband) were sterile from childhood sickness. Another sermon by John Piper argues that because the Bible says “the LORD gave [Ruth] conception” (4:13), Ruth was barren but God opened her womb.

I don’t think it especially matters, but the fact is that Ruth was without children in her first marriage. Yet she clung to her mother-in-law in Naomi’s time of trouble and trusted her enough to go to Israel with her. As a Moabitess, I doubt Ruth expected to be regarded with much favor in Israel. But she leaves everything she knows in Moab to go with her mother-in-law in search of a new life.

I think Ruth had a tender heart, and she wondered what would happen to Naomi, deep in her grief, if she was left alone. Perhaps Ruth related to Naomi more as women and less as mother-in-law.

It’s through Naomi that Ruth finds her new life, her new husband, and a new hope. As does Naomi.

In everything I’ve ever heard about Ruth, I got that it was fairly miraculous that Ruth, a Moabite, bore Obed, the father of Jesse, the father of David – and thus won herself a place in the line of David! What great honor to be in the lineage of Christ.

But Ruth also had a child, which perhaps to her seemed a miracle, too, after years of infertility.

I want to offer up a prayer for those of you who might be dealing with infertility or another seemingly insurmountable issue.

God, We know that You care about every big and small issue in our lives. You know our hearts. For those women who might feel displaced, forgotten, or lonely, like Ruth and Naomi, I ask Your blessing. Open wombs, bring peace, and make the miracle in their lives even bigger than they could ever imagine. In Your Son’s name, amen.

This is day 28 of my 31 Days of The Book series.

Days 22 and 23: Judges

Posted on October 24, 2012 by vanderbiltwife

I’m having a harder time with Judges than I thought I would.

You know I was kind of dreading it, right? I’ve read Judges before and it’s not a pleasant circumstance.

But after reading about Moses and Joshua, who are just such pure heroes … the little heroes of Judges are depressing. Gideon? He tests God, brings glory to himself, and is kind of a twit. Samson kills tons of people and gives away his secrets and likes women too much. This whole thing with Micah making idols and hiring his own priest? I am pretty sure it’s a lesson in what not to do, but I don’t really get it.

I will say, I am writing this after my 31 days is up and I’ve been reading a lot more book than Bible lately. It’s sure easy to fill up my head with stuff that doesn’t matter … and it makes me wonder how to find a balance. Does one exist? Is balance even the answer, anyway?

I feel stuck. And I’m ready to be done with Judges. Perhaps a good dose of David is what I need. Unfortunately, that’s still a lot of Bible books away.

Day 13: Two Ways

Posted on October 13, 2012 by vanderbiltwife

There are two ways to view God.

OK, maybe that’s a little simplistic, but hang in there with me.

We can view God through the lens of our own life and experience. We blame Him when things go wrong. We praise Him when things are good. We wonder why He is not liking us when we can’t sell our house and we have to foreclose and then we find out we still owe a ton of money on a house we foreclosed on. Or when we have a stupid bum car that won’t start half the time when two kids are in the backseat and it’s 30 degrees outside.

Just for instance, maybe. Ahem.

Hello, can you tell I have been there? And here’s the thing: God cares about the things that matter to us. He DOES control everything. But when bad things happen does that mean He hates us? Not at all. God IS love. It’s His nature.

Bad things happened to Job, and yet God loved Job and called him “blameless and upright.” Bad things happened to Jesus, God’s very own Son. Bad things – a LOT of bad things! – happened to Paul, the most prolific missionary of his time.

In Psalm 77 (NLT), the psalmist Asaph writes:

I think of the good old days,
long since ended,
when my nights were filled with joyful songs.
I search my soul and ponder the difference now.
Has the Lord rejected me forever?
Will he never again be kind to me?
Is his unfailing love gone forever?
Have his promises permanently failed?
Has God forgotten to be gracious?
Has he slammed the door on his compassion? (vv. 5-9)

It amuses me to no end that Asaph calls it “the good old days.” But the questions he asks here are ones I think most believers have encountered: Does God not love me? Is He going back on His promises? Is He not compassionate?

But Asaph turns the corner in Psalm 77 and makes himself remember the bigger God.

But then I recall all you have done, O Lord;
I remember your wonderful deeds of long ago.
They are constantly in my thoughts.
I cannot stop thinking about your mighty works.

O God, your ways are holy.
Is there any god as mighty as you?
You are the God of great wonders!
You demonstrate your awesome power among the nations.
By your strong arm, you redeemed your people,
the descendants of Jacob and Joseph (vv. 11-15).

This is the second way to view God: through an eternal lens. I might have some problems – who doesn’t? But God is still the God who parted the Red Sea (v. 16). He showed Himself to the Israelites in pillars of cloud and fire. He was born to a virgin, conceived only by the Spirit, grew up blameless, and died for everyone. And He died for me.

Christianity is both eternal and personal. I think it’s OK to see God through both lenses. But through the first, it’s so much easier to feel that God is personally against you. And He’s NOT. He may allow things to happen that you don’t like. Trust me, I sure haven’t liked the last three years of my life especially.

But I firmly believe the Bible is true. I believe God works everything for His good and our good (Romans 8:28). Our “good” will probably not be easy, pleasurable, or fun, always. But it will be good, in the end.

See this post to see a listing of all my 31 days posts in order.

Free to Be Me

Posted on July 16, 2012 by vanderbiltwife

I’m glad to say that, 3+ years later, I feel even more comfortable in my own skin. And also that I text now … not for the need to be more connected, but because sometimes that’s the only way to get people to answer.

_________________

As I was coming home from the gym last night (and yes, it’s the first time in months I’ve been able to say that. I swam some during my pregnancy, but that was it. It’s one of my bigger regrets and next pregnancy I will try to stay more in shape. Not that I was in shape in the first place.)

Um, where was I?

Oh, yes. I was driving home last night, feeling a throbbing pain on the back of my left heel. I’d worn my ankle brace because I have this tendency to hurt myself, particularly at the Y. My ankle is still healing up from its last sprain and I really did not care to wipe out on the treadmill in front of those bodybuilding guys who I am SURE are always laughing at how fat and out-of-shape I am.

I am an Observer by nature, and although I spent my time on the treadmill watching Good Eats (really, WHO watches Food Network while working out? I’m an idiot), I was also watching those around me. The guy beside me holding onto the side rails of his treadmill and doing a funny walk. The skinny elliptical girls. In my plain sight were two girls doing stretches and ab exercises on floor mats–and taking breaks to text on their phones. (Texting kinda baffles me. I don’t feel the need to be that connected to people, I guess.)

Anyway, the drive home. Right. I was annoyed at myself for wearing a blister into my heel. Earlier last night, I looked down at my foot and said, “I’m bleeding.” I didn’t know how it happened. I’m constantly noticing bruises on my legs from unknown sources. I fall down. I guess I’m just a klutz.

I wondered, driving, what it would be like to be somebody who did not do these things. Someone “cool.” Maybe an elliptical girl, skinny–which I have never been–and someone who doesn’t go to bed at 9 p.m., doesn’t feel like she always wears the wrong thing to work, and doesn’t randomly hurt herself on a consistent basis.

Really, most of the time, I’m OK with being plain old awkward me. I just wonder what’s it like to be on the other side. Do you know? Maybe nobody thinks they’re cool. Maybe everyone deals with the same sense of insecurity.

I’m learning. Learning to be me. Learning that it’s not so bad after all. Mr. V loves me the way I am, all kinds of crazy and everything. Libbie seems to like me (or at least my, ahem, chest). I have great friends, wonderful family, all who don’t seem to run away when I come near them. And most of all, I have a Father who seems to adore me no matter how much I screw up. In fact, He promises it.

For I am convinced that neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither the present nor the future, nor any powers, neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord. Romans 8:38-39

Photo courtesy of Garrison Photo via Stock Exchange

Five Minutes on Story

Posted on July 11, 2012 by vanderbiltwife

Usually, if I’m going to write for Five Minute Friday I actually do it on Friday. But this week’s topic spoke to me and this is the first time I’ve really been able to sit down and write this week! So here you go, Five Minute Wednesday Night.

It’s my story that in the last three and a half years, we’ve gone through job searches, moving three times, and a foreclosure. I’ve given birth – along with $3,000 to my midwife’s office – and at times lost my mind trying to raise two little ones.

Just in the last week, I’ve thrown out my back, had to drive back from Ohio when it almost wasn’t physically possible. I’m moving from one apartment to another with the inability to help my husband lift and a teensy sedan that sometimes won’t start. My husband’s grandfather was just moved to hospice, and we’re supposed to leave on Sunday for a week of vacation culminating in a wedding that I am in.

Today I found myself shouting to my sister on the phone, “WHY CAN’T ANYTHING BE EASY FOR US?” Even the cable hook-up today had misfortunes. There are no outlets in the bathrooms here. I can’t turn around without falling on my face.

So is that my story?

Or is it this?

The easiest part of my thus-far living has been finding my husband, a man who cherishes me beyond measure and far more than I deserve. Together, we’ve made a life (which yes, has included five different homes in under eight years). We’ve conceived and birthed two beautiful, healthy children, and not miscarried. We’ve never lacked for something we truly needed.

Our God has made our paths straight. He has shown us His face. He has picked me up so many times and told me that His yoke is light. Stop putting world-burdens on my shoulders.

I get to choose: dark clouds or sunrise. And I think there’s great power in claiming the positive.

Speaking of Jesus by Carl Medearis: A Review

Posted on June 19, 2012 by vanderbiltwife

I’ve never felt like a good Baptist.

Why? Because I don’t think knocking on people’s doors and leading them through the Roman Road and pressuring them to pray “the prayer” is an effective way to make followers of Christ.

There. I said it. If you want to leave now, I understand.

I’ll never forget a lunchtime Bible study in college that filled me with hope. Our campus minister drew a circle. He talked about how the general method of evangelists was to get people inside the circle – and then leave them there while they go find more people to herd inside.

What if, he conjectured, it was more like there was a big point in the middle, labeled Jesus? And we were trying to help people get closer to that point?

In his book Speaking of Jesus: The Art of Not-Evangelism, Carl Medearis uses pretty much the same illustration. Medearis speaks of an evangelism that is simply leading people into conversation about Jesus and letting the Holy Spirit truly do the work.

The year before Libbie was born, I went on a “mission trip” to Brazil with a few others. It was an amazing two weeks; I loved meeting the students from the seminary, having dinner with the local imam, going to a service at a mosque, and touring the breathtaking area we were in. I loved talking with the missionary couple and the two of their three children that still lived at home. I loved taking a Lebanese cooking class.

What I did not love was trying to approach people cold turkey to talk about the Gospel.

Why? It always seems like such immense pressure. Like I had to defend every aspect of what I believed to be the Christian faith. Apologetics. History. A lot of stuff I didn’t know nor understand.

Having lived and ministered in the Middle East and around the globe, Medearis makes one thing clear: people are turned off by Christianity but long to hear more about Jesus.

I honestly cried at the end of this book because I felt such a wave of relief. Maybe I don’t have to defend Christianity, Christianese, and why Elisha would let a bear kill some kids for making fun of him. Maybe I can just share the relationship I’ve cultivated with Jesus myself. Maybe I can just do what He did: love people. Especially the people we’re not “supposed” to love.

If you, like me, have always felt like the “get your butt into heaven” method of evangelism is just not quite right … you need to read this book. You probably won’t agree with everything Medearis says, but it’s well worth the few hours of reading.

And if you ever want to talk about Jesus – I’m here.