My baptism anniversary

I don't remember the Rev. Dr. Arthur W. Hoffman, but I grew up hearing about him.  He was "the pastor" of my home church - First Pres. in Joliet, Illinois.  He'd been gone for a few years before I remember anything about that church, but his impact was lasting.  The Fellowship Hall, in fact, was renamed "Hoffman Hall" in his honor after he left.

Dr. Hoffman had an impact on my life, however.  Well, to be more precise, he was a vehicle through which I was a recipient of God's grace.  You see, on this date, December 16, he stood in front of the congregation during the worship service, put water on my head, and uttered those ancient, powerful, sacramental words:  "I baptize you in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit."  My parents were asked some questions that morning.  The congregation was asked some questions as well.  He didn't ask me one thing.  At least, I don't suppose he did, but as I was only a little over 8 months old, I don't remember a thing about it.  But I remember that it happened.  And I remember each year on this date that it happened way back then.

No, he didn't ask me one thing.  Didn't ask if I wanted to be baptized.  Didn't  ask if I understood the magnitude of what was being undertaken.  Didn't ask if I believed in Jesus, or if I believed in anything.  But isn't that how it really becomes the powerful sign that baptism is?  We Presbyterian and Reformed folk have a different understanding than many other Christian traditions about baptism.  We always have believed that baptism is more about what God says to us than about anything we might say to God.  And God says, "Even before you know how to respond, I have come to you... to claim you as My own... to bless you with My love... to fill you with My grace."

On that December 16 morning long ago a sign was given.  What had been true from my earliest moments of existence was given voice that morning.  I was nothing less than a child of God, a member of the Covenant community, a creature so dearly loved by his Creator.

Again, I knew nothing of that then.  I probably cried... which, when I think of it, is not a bad response to such overwhelming evidence of love and grace.  Okay,I probably cried because I was hungry, or tired, or needed changing.  But I like to imagine that somewhere deep inside, something resonated within my tiny being. But even if nothing registered with me then, it does now.  The Child in the manger who was God's sign to the whole world, continues to extend love and grace, acceptance and blessing, to all of us as God's beloved children.

And today I remember that.  And I give thanks.

Blessings and peace,

Steve