At my very first church as a youth director I brought a group of high school students to Sonshine Music Festival for 4 days and 3 nights of sleeping in tents. The festival was outdoors at a school and community center, utilizing their large sports field and open grassy spaces. We arrived the first night and were excited to camp, spend time together and listen to some great music. The first night we tucked ourselves in our tents and listened to the rain slowly start to fall. And fall. And fall. And fall some more. 24 hours later we were among hundreds of other people, walking in pools of wet grass that was quickly turning to mud.
We started out by trying to avoid the dirt and keep clean. Then we tried wearing shoes so that we ourselves were clean, even if our clothes and shoes were not. By the end of the first day we had given into reality of our new lives. We were in bondage to filth and could not free ourselves.
By the end of the long weekend, dirt covered everything. To get from the campsite to the stage you needed to walk in ankle deep squishy black mud. And not just any mud; mud so thick you had to be barefoot. It was the type of mud that can only come from the topsoil farmers work so hard to maintain and landscapers used before laying the sod of the grass we had now trampled. The poor grass was now beaten and ground up and had become part of the mud that covered us. Maybe you have encountered this dark soupy mud that is so earthy and pure it almost smells clean and appealing, except for the fact that it leaves you encrusted if you go anywhere near it.
For 4 days and 3 nights, this was our life. Tents, music, friendship, togetherness…and mud.
In my job, I know the gift of a good shower. After returning from a week-long mission trip the type of shower that follows can only be described as spiritual. The showers the week of Sonshine were reminiscent of the cleansing waters of Baptism.
In the locker room shower at Sonshine and I had been made clean. All evidence of dirt and filth had been washed away, down the drain, out of sight and mind. I stood there, freshly scrubbed with clean clothes, and I was at peace. But I also realized that as soon as I stepped outside of the shower I would once again be in the land of muck and grime and no shower could preemptively keep me clean. I couldn’t avoid the dirt no matter how much a tried.
Baptism is like that shower. It washed me clean, but not perfect. I still mess up, I still get my hands dirty, and I still make mistakes. Sometimes I am overwhelmed by my own imperfection. No matter how hard I try, thoughts of prejudice and judgment toward my neighbor fill my mind, while pride, anger and jealousy sneak into my heart. I cannot run from the thick mud that I encounter daily in this world.
But unlike showering, I don’t need a daily baptism to wash myself clean from sin. The baptism from when I was an infant does just fine on its own, because that time I was washed with water, and with the Word. God uses something common to do the extraordinary.
Water is everywhere. We need it, we want it, and we use it every day. In the summer it cools us down on a hot day and in the winter, we drink it hot to warm us up. We swim in lakes and oceans; we fish in streams and rivers and we bathe in showers and bathtubs. In Minnesota we are surrounded by it, but when it is absent, we long for it.
Faith can be like water. We need it, we are comforted by it, and sometimes we long for it. Far too often we fail to notice how much life faith brings to our lives. When God looks at me (and at you), God sees past the imperfections and instead sees the person that is marked with the cross of Christ. Faith is believing that because of my Baptism I am cleaned daily and that my sins are washed away and forgiven, even when I am walking through the mud.
