When I was baptised
there was no River Jordan,
just a dented tub in an ugly room.
There was no hairy prophet,
but a smooth-skinned man
who told me to read Tillich first.
God’s voice didn’t thunder.
The heavens stayed resolutely shut.
Not even a small bird floated down
from the skies.
Coming up from the waters
I felt silly, adolescent,
awkward, strange.
No more sure of God’s love
or my direction
or my self.
Yet somehow, in all its smallness,
it was enough.
Was your experience of baptism euphoric
or pedestrian? Solemn or silly? Give thanks that, whatever your experience, it
was enough.
Reflection by me, Alison
Sampson, South Yarra Community Baptist Church, 10 January 2016.
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