Following in Jesus' Steps . . . Through Baptism!

Today we welcome Kim Hall as a new contributor to the blog! She and her family moved to Gracias in December 2018, to oversee the Manna 4 Lempira sponsorship program.

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We live in a place where the gospels come to life.

We were invited out last week to share in the baptism of some of the young people in our Tablon sponsorship Program.

I remember my own baptism. Like 98% of other baptisms I've ever witnessed, it was all extremely sanitary. That day, we drove the 15 minutes to church. I took my plunge into the deeper Christian life in a symbolic white robe, buried with Christ in a temperature controlled pool of filtered water, behind a sheet of glass just back of the preacher’s head where everyone could see from their padded seat. I was raised to walk in a new life and met with a big fluffy towel and the assurance of a hair-dryer plugged in and waiting backstage.

For this baptism, we drove 15 minutes outside of Gracias until we saw a parade of carefully dressed people—men, women, and children—slowly making their way up from their own personal piece of the hillside, tinted slightly green or pink in the shade of their festive parasols.

Their feet were dusty. I don’t know why, but whenever I picture Jesus, he has dusty feet too, from a long walk on an ancient road.

A few—maybe 15—people decided to hop into the bed of our truck to save a few precious steps and direct us down to the river. We stopped a few times on the rocky, winding path to open barbed wire gates strung across to keep wayward cows in or out.

Before long, we were there—Big River, flowing wide and shallow in front of Mount Celaque—where a crowd had gathered, stepping back in time to fulfill a mandate as old as the church: baptism. It was like we were there watching John and Jesus, knee deep in the Jordan River. Joyful voices were lifted up with clapping hands and fearless voices—old familiar songs that they sang in Spanish while we sang in English—a little snapshot of heaven. Hoping to snag a scrap of shade, we all crowded under the scanty strands of a wooden bridge that hung  pitifully overhead like an old, smiling man with only a few teeth. Everyone opened their Bibles, white pages blinding under the sun. For a moment, all you could hear was the rippling of pages, the flow of the water over the worn-smooth rocks.

The Pastor spoke. The smaller children, restless, shucked their shoes and took to the river. The adults listened reverently with burning skin. The solemn dignity of the situation kept us all from following the kids, clothes and all. When the heat became too much, I slipped of my shoes, and swear I could hear a sizzle as I dipped my toes into the refreshing flow.

Did Jesus speak by the river with half-naked children splashing all around? Did everyone have sandy toes and scorched skin? Could you smell sweat and mossy rocks and muddy puddles?

Soon it was time. A group of young people gathered around Pastor Omar—a man they have known for as long as they can remember. In years past, they were in the river playing, watching others prepare to take the next step in their faith. Now it was their day. It was their turn. After years of discipleship and fulfillment of their church’s requirements, they literally stood on the brink, ready to take the next step of obedience to Christ. On each face, there was a mixture of excitement and jitters as they waited, neatly starched in their dazzling white shirts and black skirts or pants, eyes fixed on Omar as he reminded them what this step meant.

As we watched our students line up and wade one at a time into the river, the truth of what was happening sank in. We were seeing the gospel fulfilled before our eyes. We were witnessing life from the dead. In that moment, under the same hot sun, it was easy to imagine Jesus himself, chest deep in the water and ankles sinking down in the mud, robe flowing out around him, arms outstretched to pull each child out into water with Him, and the joy of heaven in his eyes. It was easy to hear God’s voice whispering, ”Look at my beloved child! Wow, he makes my heart happy.”

Jesus left a mandate for His people—Go. Make Disciples. Preach. Teach. Baptize. It is one thing to share the gospel and see a person convert to Christianity. But it is another thing entirely to see people living out their faith—acting out their obedience to Christ—committing to live the disciple’s life.

As each child came up out of the water, they lifted up their hands as if to say, “Here I am! Take my life. Send me.” This is the future of the church, hope multiplied throughout these communities and this country.

At my baptism, there was no sweat. There was no discomfort. Nobody lost their shoes in the running river or walked an hour home in wet clothes. And yet on this day, I could stand by the river and call myself sister to these children, and in that moment, it didn’t matter that we come from different worlds. This is the Kingdom of God, the Fellowship of Believers, the Unity of His Church.

We are proud to partner with churches that do more than make converts. We are proud to partner with churches (and pastors) that are investing countless hours of time, energy, and prayers to raising up children who know who they are in Christ and how to follow Him in their everyday lives. We are proud to partner with sponsors who encourage spiritual and holistic growth—who give financially so that our partner churches can offer Biblical classes to make disciples. We are proud to help build God’s Kingdom here in Honduras, one changed heart at a time.

Most of all, we are proud to follow in the river-soggy sandal steps of Jesus, to be His dusty hands and feet as we support and walk and wade out into the water with the ones He loves.

 - posted by Kim Hall