Baptism

Lent begins with an invitation to join Jesus in the wilderness. There, as scripture tells us, we encounter the barrenness of solitude and even the wild beasts of our fears and anxieties. In many ways, this reminds me of the ancient catechumenate, the practice of preparing candidates for Baptism.

These candidates spent a good portion of the year in study of Christianity, confession and spiritual introspection. I regret that we do not have this sort of process in place, and yet as I baptized two children recently, I could feel the spark of understanding and desire within them and see the seriousness of the moment on their precious faces.

  

To some extent we all wrestle with our liturgical times of listening, waiting, watching, and hoping. As one person exclaimed at our Lenten soup suppers last night "is Lent almost over?" 

We see Spring dawning into full glory and we long to see in everyone an increased creativity blossoming, a strengthened capacity to love emerging, and a greater openness to surprise being yielded. As reluctant as some people are about talking about their spiritual lives, this is precisely where our Lenten journey takes us: to the Cross, to the death and resurrection of the baptismal font, and to the barest essence of who we are and what we are called to be.

Spiritual growth often means learning to expect and even nourish a surprise of any kind. I don’t know about you, but I have never been especially fond of surprises. The hard part of this growth process comes in accepting that we are not in control. During our Lenten journey, as we clear space and watch for new growth, new growth can blossom in ways that we do not plan or even believe can happen.  

Because our growth is from God, we must be ready to embrace this new growth in faith and with the courage in knowing that whatever gifts of new growth we are given they are given by a God who loves us and desires our well being and growth. As our newly baptized members hold a candle bearing a new light, we all marvel in what God has done and will do in their lives and ours...let your light shine.

As we journey closer to the Cross this season, we do well to remember Brennan Manning’s injunction about spiritual steadfastness: Hope knows that if great trials are avoided great deeds remain undone and the possibility of growth into greatness of soul is aborted.  

We stand here in the open space, holy ground, around the Baptismal font and we know that suffering may lie ahead.  It takes courage and faith in God’s purpose to continue our work, to devote ourselves honestly to God’s guidance, and to remember the promise: we will find our lives by first losing them.

What does your wilderness look like this Lent? Where do you see signs of new growth, death and resurrection? Are there any buds of creativity germinating in you? Have you found your heart stretched to a deeper capacity? Where has God surprised you with grace and joy?