Infant Baptism: The Great Equalizer

Infant Baptism is the New Testament version of Circumcision, the ancient rite practiced by the Israelites as the mark of God's love in their lives, the claim of God upon them, that they, and their children, belong to God, not by their own efforts, or their own choice, or their intelligence or spiritual sensitivity, but rather by the sovereign declarations of God, that "I will be your God, and you will be my people."

God made it clear, from the covenant made with Sarah and Abraham, that children, too, belong, right from the start, and while the ancient rite belonged only to the male child, the New Testament expands the rite to include girls, too - the purpose, the intent, of the respective rites, are the same, but now in Christ, it's clear: all children belong to God, and nothing says that more clearly, and directly, than baptism, the great equalizer for us all - that in Christ, there are no more the distinctions that humans love to make: neither Jew nor Gentile, neither male nor female, neither slave nor free: ethnic, gender and social.

No one choses their baptism; it's chosen for them, by their families, by the community of faith around them, and ultimately, by the love of God, the primal moving of the Holy Spirit, the a prior grace of God, that moves and works and creates anew, before we know anything about it, before we ask for it, or claim it, or do anything at all on our part.

Hence no one can point to their baptism as a self-affirming sign of any sort of spiritual decision, as in "I did this, I chose to be baptized, I went forward at a revival, I felt the leading of the Spirit, and welcomed it." Or, "I felt the leading of the Spirit, and resisted it for a long, I fought against God [this is the stuff of testimony, the stuff that gets the juices flowing] and then I could no longer resist, and so I surrendered to God."

Notice the dominate of the pronoun "I" in all of this?

There is no "I" in infant baptism; the "I" doesn't exist, because infant baptism is of God, through the community, through the family; it's primal, it's basic, it's not of our own decision, and for the rest of our lives, as with circumcision, we are marked by the water of baptism, in the eyes of God, in the eyes of the community, and in our own eyes, too, though we may do our best to deny it, to forget it, to live contrary to it, but no one can undo the mark of circumcision, and no one can wipe off the water of baptism.

Believer's Baptism, on the other hand, is all about the "I" ... and that's the cause of so much dissension and distress in evangelical communities, creating a spiritual rivalry in which the believer is made the central actor, and when it comes to worship in such communities, "stars" are born who have the most spectacular stories of conversion, resistance, surrender, and then victory over the dark forces of Satan, and so on.

If we begin with the "I" in all of this, that's where we end, and there's nothing more deadly to the work of God than when the "I" assumes control, even when masked with the language of surrender and humility, as in "God has done it all," when in fact, the believer makes it clear that it was their decision, their moment of surrender, their will, their moment to decision, and though God played a part, it was the believer who finished the deal and subsequently plays the central role through prayer, Bible reading, witnessing, fellowship and faith. All of these are important, of course, for all of us, but evangelical communities, these are the tools the believer uses to maintain faith, whereas in reality, these are the gifts of the Spirit, and like John put it, "I must grow smaller, and he must grow larger."

When the "I" is dominant, we have rivalries, dissensions and distinctions - as I heard years ago, "Me graduate school Christian; you kindergarten Christian. What's wrong with you?"

The "testimony" trail in evangelicalism provides the platform of stardom, the "witness" of the "saved," who tell their stories with flourish, and, I suspect, plenty of embellishment, to eager crowds, crowds looking for encouragement, for thrill, for confirmation of their own ego in the spiritual realm.

When it comes to testimony, what did a Jew say, other than "I belong to God, and that's not my decision, it's God's"? ... maybe adding, "I wish God would leave me alone."

What can a Christian say, except the very same thing?

"I belong to God, and that's not my decision, it's God's decision, God's work, God's purpose flowing through the width and breadth of history, from the beginning, and reaching to the very end, however that will be."

And because it's God's decision, from before the foundation of the earth, there is nothing now that can separate us from the love of God in Christ ... what God establishes, God protects; what God initiates, God finishes, and to God be the glory.

And in a weary world where "our glory" plays the central world, much to our sorrow and much to the harm of our world, the message of grace, sovereign, full and complete, becomes the glass of cool water in a hot and thirsty world.

The message of grace, resplendently portrayed in the moment of infant baptism, when this little squiggling, squirming, diaper-pooping, child is touched with the water, and the minister says, "In the name of the Father, in the name of the Son, in the name of the Holy Spirit" ... in the name of all that is good, all that is God, all that is right and beautiful, hopeful and redeeming, "you are baptized! Now and forever more, you belong to God, not because of this baptism, but because of God's decision, made in the heart of God, for sake of God's purposes, God's creation, God's work. And what God has done is revealed and confirmed in waters of baptism."

And, of course, for those who come to faith later in life, it's really all the same - the same intent on God's part, the same purpose, the same grounding - not in the believer can any of this be found but only in the mercy of God. Whereas we're often tempted to point to ourselves in these matters, baptism  erases all such efforts to glorify ourselves.

For the adult being baptized, the language is the same: "In the name of the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit. By the mercies of God, full and complete, you belong to God, now and forever more. not because of this baptism, but through the work of the Spirit, who does it all, the giver of life, unto the glory of God."

Yes, to God be the glory!

And for me, there is no clearer statement of such power than in the moment of an infant baptism.

Thinking about "Dear God"

"Dear God," I've said a million times and then some.

"Dear God,"
"watch over my children,"
"keep my wife,"
"help me,"
"be with my friend,"
"bless our world."

"Dear God" ... sweet words, words of hope, humility, and longing.

Words that have meant the world to me over the years, without question, simple and direct, personal and poignant, "Dear God."

My sadness about the word "God" is how this precious word has been sullied and stained by certain religious elements that have lost all imagination, replacing it with dogma ... religious elements that have ceased thinking, elements without humility before the great mysteries of life, death, love and eternity.

Sadly, my own inner spirit has been hurt by these elements - their brutality, their insistence, their misplaced confidence in what they know, their disdain for the poor, for immigrants, and for people of other faith-traditions.

I have been taking a daily bath in their filthy water for some years now, trying to figure it out, trying to find words to counter their evil influence, wanting to shine some light into the darkness and madness of their violent thoughts and behavior. Compounded by the filthy water of wayward politics, linked to these religious elements, with a horrible and heinous progeny populating our churches, our schools, our sense of being and identity. Bathe in filthy water, and there is no cleansing, but only more filth, more despair, more disappointment and discouragement, until the soul itself is compromised by the principalities and powers of death.

Great music, poetry, exalted preaching, novels and film ... birds and bees and children laughing and crying ... all of this, and more, cleansing ... clean ... clear ... hope anew, courage to believe, to imagine, to see the mountain, to hear the world, to engage the powers of life, and be a human being fully alive, which is, after all, the glory of God.

"Dear God" ... two words that have meant the world to me ... dear, close and kind ... God, high above and surrounding all that is, making life, and holding us dear, as only Dear God can do.

Is There a God?

Is there a God?
Perhaps ... maybe not.
Whether there is or isn't doesn't seem to make a lot of difference ... as folks seem to make of it whatever they darn well please ...
A god of hate?
A god of love?
A god of damnation?
A god of welcome?
And a little of this and a little of that.
We all know the tired and dangerous claims: god spoke to me ... god said to me ... it's in the revealed word of god ... god's spirit convinced me ...


And, yes, a lot of goodness comes from that ... but so does a lot of evil.
Hospitals and schools built ...
and slaves to farm the cotton and cane ...
and prisons for those who would make trouble for those who own the cotton and cane ...
and visions of social justice in the likes of a Martin Luther King, Jr. ...
and the healing hands of Mother Teresa ...
and the gun-slinging patriots who believe that Jesus favors open-carry ...
and every form of nobility and love ...
and every form of bigotry and hate.


This pretty much leaves the question open.
I guess its up to you and me to chose.
And like the Knight said to Indiana Jones, "Choose wisely."

All information is slanted ...

All "information" has a slant … nothing is neutral … it's all on where we begin.

If one begins with "abortion is murder and thus must be outlawed," we find information that conforms to that opinion. If, on the other hand, we believe that a "woman's choice is an important element in her health care, and that abortion is a legitimate choice," then we find information that conforms to that.

We have to always dig deeper, more than likely into our personality, family patterns, personal history, and a variety of other factors, social and psychological, as to why we make the decisions we do.

If and when we share out of the deeps of our being, it always has the aroma of authenticity, because it comes from our deeps, and not from some political or ideological source (both liberals and conservatives can suffer from this syndrome). When we share from the deeps, we're honest in our humility and can admit that truth is our opinion of it, and we can hope and pray that we've made a good effort at it. But we cannot claim a higher authority.

We can seek, however, to be well-read, and to hold our opinions lightly. It's okay to have an opinion; that's what life is all about. I'll stand firm on my opinions, and do the best I can to see that my opinions see the light of day.

Hence, I'm pro-choice, have been pro-choice for decades, and I've given it a lot of thought. And in my own take of things, that makes me pro-life. Those who believe abortion is evil and must be outlawed have worked at it, too. So, there we are.

Let's be honest - we have our opinions, and while we'd like to think that our opinion is better than other opinions, none can make that claim - all we can do is muster what science and history we can find, think it through, and offer it up to the world as coherently as we can. Time will help clarify … though not even centuries can clear up some questions.

Is John Ortberg Wrong?

Ever since my encounter with the Text, a long time ago (Ha!) in seminary days, and Peter’s walk on the water, I’ve seen that passage as a commentary on Peter’s impulsive and individualist approach to faith and life. In other words, this is no story to be mined for the typical American “you-can-do-anything” approach to life.

Peter was wrong to get out of the boat!

His moment of exultation lasted only a moment, his 15-minutes of fame, if you will. Glory of this kind is always a passing fancy, a story without substance, an experience without purpose (which seems to be very much a part of the American religious story).

Jesus saves Peter from the waves, of course. 

But here’s where the story turns important. Not only for what is said. But for what isn’t said.

Jesus doesn’t invite Peter to try it again.

Nor does Jesus invite the other disciples to try it, either.

Jesus takes Peter in hand and they both return to the boat.

It’s in the boat where the fellowship of faith is experienced, and that was the point of Jesus coming to them. Not to invite them out on to the waves, but to join them, or at least, as Mark puts it, to “pass by them,” as God “passed by Moses in the cleft of the rock,” to reveal God’s glory. 


In Mark and John, there’s no Peter doing his thing. But only in Matthew, and there, Matthew makes it clear when Jesus says to Peter, “You of weak faith; why did you doubt?” Not his ability to walk on water, but that it was the LORD coming to them. 


Peter’s impulsive move contradicts one of the central tenants of Christianity spirituality - waiting. Waiting on the LORD. Peter couldn’t wait, and that can only end badly, for everyone!

Impulsively, Peter leaves the boat, even as he did in the post-resurrection account in John. Peter dives into the water, wanting Jesus for himself, abandoning the work of his fellow-fisherman who have just taken a miraculous haul of fish and need help.

Peter is always about Peter … and he wants Jesus all to himself.

Which is why Jesus instructs Peter to “feed my sheep.” It’s not about Peter; it never is. It’s about others; it always is.

When I first read Ortberg’s book, I was taken with the story as he re-tells it. Yes, and wow, “you can be just like your rabbi; you, too, can walk on water. But ya’ gotta get outta of the boat first.”

It makes for great American preaching.

It appeals to our narcissistic instincts and our “Jesus and me” attitudes.

It appeals to our pride of power, and our daring-do stories.

But is it faithful to the text?

Is this what God wants us to hear?

Is this the Gospel?

I think not.

And more, I think Ortberg is wrong on this point. Seriously, terribly, tragically, wrong, misleading so many who are hell-bent on their pathway to the American version of faith.

It’s not about daring-do and water-walking - this is not what faith is all about, because faith is defined by love, by the Beatitudes, by mercy and compassion, forgiveness and bonding in Jesus, and through Jesus to the fellowship of faith and to the whole wide world. 

Faith about loving one another as Jesus loves us, by washing feet and putting our lives on the line, not for personal achievement, but for the sake of one another.

Faith is all about getting back into the boat with Jesus! It’s about feeding and tending the flock.

Peter has always been willing to abandon the others to secure his own place.

Peter has a lot to learn.

So do we!

Following the Script

The more conservative the congregation to which someone belongs, the more likely I hear in their conversation "the script."

This is rarely the case for Presbyterians, whatever their persuasion, though I find this happening with a bit more frequency as fundagelicalism takes root in our congregations - what with easy praise music and the four-point therapy message, with appropriate screen images, and the need to always be "victorious."

As if, before anything else can transpire in the conversation, sort of like clearing the throat, a certain number of "god-honoring," or "Christ-witnessing" statements must be said, and said in such a way as to impress upon the hearer the "victory" of the gospel.

We all use our scripts, I suppose, in order to establish, both in the mind of the speaker and the listener, the lay of the land. I suspect folks are really trying to convince themselves, more than anything else, because life is scary and life is hard and life is confusing - realities to which various forms of fundagelicalism cannot and will not admit.

I don't like scripted language, because it's not real, even when the person is speaking of "their personal relationship with Jesus" or whatever else they may be trying to impress upon me.

Perhaps, since I'm a pastor, there's some urgency in the speaker's mind to be sure that I know they're saved and bound for glory.

Or, because I'm a Presbyterian pastor, some urgency to witness to the unsaved, which seems to be the status to which I'm assigned in conservative or fundamentalist circles.

In some respects, I think, the issue of "scripted christian-speak" falls under the category addressed by James when he writes, "Above all, do not swear - by heaven or by earth or by anything else. Let your "yes" be yes, and your "no" be no, or you will be condemned."

Christians who try too hard are not likely to succeed in their witness, though God is merciful, and can use most anything to further the cause of the gospel.

But James, I think, hits the nail on the head with scripted language - don't use it. When we talk, let's talk authentically.

If we're afraid, then we're afraid ... if we're confused or uncertain, then so be it ... if we don't know how to say something, then be quiet. None of this is an affront to the Father who loves us and to the Christ in whom we have life, nor to the Holy Spirit who gives us words, and sometimes gives us silence, as well.

More than anything, I try to help such folks get beyond the script so they actually say what's on their mind and heart.

In the course of the conversation, I usually find them relaxing and being more at ease, because that's what honesty is all about ... when our "yes" is a yes and our "no" is a no.

To God be the glory.

Tom Eggebeen, Interim Pastor, Covenant Presbyterian Church, Los Angeles. 

The Purpose of a Confession

" 'Confessions' exist for us to go through them (not once but continually), not for us to return to them, take up our abode in them, and conduct our further thinking from their standpoint and in bondage to them. The church never did well to attach itself arbitrarily to one man - whether his name was Thomas ... or Luther, or Calvin - and in his school to attach itself to one form of doctrine. And it was never at any time good for it to look back instead of forwards as a matter of principle" (Barth, in Eberhard Busch's biography, p. 375).

The church is always tempted to find a place wherein it can find shelter; the only problem is this: such shelters are never God, but always our poorly constructed houses of straw.

Because standing in the shelter of God never quite feels safe enough for us, and, indeed, it's not all that safe.

God takes us on a great adventure, and sometimes our hearts are not up to it, and we want to find a pleasant tree somewhere in Palestine and settle down beneath its pleasant shade ... or on the Mount or Transfiguration, at least build booths for everyone.

The history of the church can be seen, I think, as a constant tussle between the heart's desire for security and the Spirit's call to adventure.

When things get dicey, the church hunkers down in the bunkers of orthodoxy. But what a loss, for in the very things we call dicey, God is at work. In one sense, hunkering down is a genuine loss of faith - faith in God and God's providence.

When things get dicey, the church goes looking for heretics so as to silence the inner voices of our own doubt (always our companion, though mostly quiet) and the voice of God, beckoning us onward.

If we trust God's providence, knowing the perfect love of Christ, a love that casts out all fear, then we can be brave and confident and bold in our faith, even as we are humble and patient and respectful before the mysteries of life in a myriad of human beings and ideas.

Fear, and the enemies it makes, destroys our faith.

But welcome and affirmation gives wings to our faith, faith in God who is creator of the world, and remains the decisive factor in it's history, gathering up everything - the good, the bad and the ugly - into the unfailing energy of redemption and the eventual new heaven and new earth. 

Thoughts About Presbyterian Bitterness

As you may or may not know, I do a blog on "Presbyterian Outlook," and, yes, I'm happy to be a Presbyterian, but some folks aren't. In reply to one of my blogs, some pretty nasty stuff, including a request that "The Outlook" close the blog down. I checked out the writer, a pastor from Western PA who writes his own blog on being Presbyterian. Sure, we have our issues; who doesn't? But it's like a good marriage: either the marriage and its happiness take precedence over the issues, or the issues themselves outweigh the marriage, and then it's only a matter of time before bitterness and outrage prompt a divorce.

Yes, I have been bitter, but God be praised, I have learned anew that bitterness, lodged in the heart of a liberal or in the heart of a conservative, is Satan's poison, and the results are always the same - the slow loss of reason and a growing blindness to the goodness of God flowing free and clean every morning. Bitterness locks the prison door, and therein we brood and sorrow, talking only to the other inmates self-sentenced for the same crimes and misdemeanors. Bitterness prompts us to inordinate self-confidence even as we increasingly despise "the other." Well, just a few thoughts. I am grateful for where I am, and though I've travelled the road of bitterness, though I've sentenced myself a few times to the dark room, I'm not there now, and to God be the glory!

In These Times ...

In These Times …

I find fear creeping in at the edges of my mind and heart.

Every newscast brings more sad news for tens of thousands of Americans and folks around the world.

And, then, Citi Group purchases a $50 million dollar corporate jet – get this, it carries 12, and get this and then some, ordered from a French company. Ha! And when challenged by Keith Olbermann, they declined to comment, saying, “security reasons” prohibit us from commenting on our fleet. Yeah, sure – security? No, shame! Plain old shame!

Sadly, their avarice is my money at work, and I’m not real fond of that.

Oh sure, it’s Capitalism, some say. It’s the Free Market, and we all love that, don’t we?

Naw, it’s just plain old greed at work – over-the-top entitlement – the worm in the apple gnawing away at our character and our economy.

I think we’ve got ourselves into a real pickle.

And certain forms of Christianity haven’t helped one bit:
¸ The feel-good, advance-yourself, Jesus-loves-you-always, let’s-clap-our-hands-and-love-one-another, kind of Christianity.
¸ The James Dobson brand of Christianity, with his snarling intrusion into the American bedroom.
¸ The psycho-babble kind of Christianity, where Sunday morning is nothing more than a couch for therapy and learning “five steps to happiness.”
¸ And Americanized Christianity where flag and faith are all entwined in one another, and no one knows where country and Christ begin or end.

Here’s where I have hope for mainline Protestant Christianity to regain some traction. Ours has been a faithful voice, crying in the wilderness of prosperity and evangelical power. As the megachurches zoomed into view and climbed to the top of the numbers heap, we all hung our head and slinked away, ashamed of our faith, and wondering why we were such a failure.

But we’re not a failure at all. And though the numbers are not likely to change in the foreseeable future, it’s all about integrity and responsibility, and the numbers be damned, if you will.

This is not Wall Street after all. It’s not about some bottom line of success. It’s faithfulness and critical thinking. Do we really have anything at all to say?

We’ve been studying the prophets and the kings of Israel and Judah, background to Jesus our LORD. Here we find some grit to throw on the road for traction. Here is where we find some guidance in such times, when the bastions of power and religion have proved hollow!

Yes, I find fear creeping in at the edges, because bad things happen when human beings forget one another, when a nation worships at the alter of prosperity and condemns millions to a life of hardship. Bad things happen when religion loses its bearings and can no longer muster the courage or the conviction to tell the truth to itself, much less to anyone else.

The simple truth, at least as I read in the Prophets and in the life of Jesus: our nation has spent way too much time at the alter of Wall Street and allowed wealth to be concentrated into the hands of a strange breed of royalty who lost their bearings, who spent corporate profits foolishly, who lived high on the hog and damned the rest of us, and way too many Christians, enamored with visions of Jesus and wealth, lost their minds and their souls, as well.

But I think God for God!

God’s Spirit yet strives with our spirit, and when God’s people dig into the Word thoughtfully, intelligently, looking not for ways to condemn others, nor for ways to feather our own bed, but to discern the will of God and to seek ways by which we can effect salvation – shalom – here and now - real peace and a prosperity that leaves no one behind – when such things become our purpose, there will be showers of blessing from on high!

It’s time for decency, a kindliness toward one another, an honest humility, and it’s time for the powerful and the wealthy, for the super-religionists of the world, Christian or otherwise, to remember, that even on the loftiest of thrones, we’re still sitting only on our own rumps (Montaigne), and our task on earth is not to build thrones for ourselves, but to sew pillows for one another, to make the sitting a tad bit easier!

Just Read the Layman

 I just put down the latest issue of the Layman (January, 2009) ... a tour de force of dissatisfaction.

I have some sympathy for them ... there was a time in my life when dissatisfaction sat on both of my shoulders, but with the passage of time, I've either grown addled or I've grown! Obviously, some would say addled. But I like my peaceable stance; I’d like to think that I’ve grown.

If the current Layman reflects where a good many of our brothers and sisters are living right now, it's pretty far from where I live.

Wish I had some answers - I don't.

With the turn of every page, I saw a determined Layman creating two camps with an absolute chasm between them - an unbridgeable gulf growing wider by the day. Again and again, churches leaving were lifted up and celebrated, along with all the numbers. On every page: the supposed failures of the PCUSA – our emptiness and our unfaithfulness, our desertion of the gospel and our abandonment of the historic Reformed faith, and so on.

Part of me is burdened with sadness – because the two camps are never so clearly delineated – there are folks with sympathies and sentiments rooted in both and on all sides of the questions.

Part of me is resigned to the darkening mood of the conversation, or what’s left of it.

Part of me is simply frustrated – how can the conversation be enlarged?

Part of me is hopeful, too. If Jesus’ ministry were judged on the basis of numbers and popularity, we’d all have to agree that his work was largely a failure. Only in the aftermath of the resurrection and subsequent missional expansion does the work of Jesus take on a larger significance.

So, who’s to say?

Church history is replete with times of God shaking things out. Our own history – often fatally flawed with our incessant desire to write it all down and then test one another’s orthodoxy or orthopraxy – has seen countless moments of division and reconciliation, off-shoots and new denominations. So who knows exactly where the power of resurrection will manifest itself? But we believe and trust: “God gives life to the dead and calls into existence the things that do not exist” (Romans 4:17).

As some of our brothers and sisters pack their bags and move to a new town, I can only wish them well. I’d love to see them stay a little while longer, but their discontent only grows stronger – a discontent resolved only by living in a new neighborhood with less irksome neighbors.

I suspect they’ll find, however, as all folks do who move, that a good deal of the discontent is a spiritual inclination always in need of someone or something against which to express itself anew. Dissatisfaction, like some primordial hunger, is never assuaged; it will only find new reasons to live.

I am happier than ever in being a Presbyterian – our faithfulness to the gospel is expressed in a willingness to constantly explore the boundary regions of love. Jesus is a boundary crosser, and so are we. There’s always some risk in such ventures of faith, but risk is part of it.

When all is said and done, our immediate family may be a little smaller, but so was Gideon’s army, and those 300 were more than enough to win the day!