I never knew that baptism could be so treacherous. At least mine certainly was.
In the Fall of 1968, I was last in a line of seven students draped in long black robes waiting to be immersed. I had joined the baptismal class shortly after arriving at Atlantic Union College. The class was led by Pastor Francis Bush, a kind man in his mid-fifties and a veteran baptizer.
This is a companion discussion topic for the original entry at http://spectrummagazine.org/node/12154
Thanks for this inspiring article. Dead things can indeed live again. May I share this as a devotional thought at my next vespers?
Always look forward to reading your articles Kim, and this one did not disappoint. Your blend of humor, humility and spiritual insight reaches my heart like theology and didactic teaching cannot. At my “eternally old age” I appreciate the message that “Death stinks” but we have a Resurrector who breathes new life into us no matter what our condition is. He does not need Spring Lilac!
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