The woman in labor is cold, so cold and they pile blankets on her but it doesn’t help and she’s tired. This labor is hard not like the others, this one’s bad, something’s wrong and the pregnancy was hard and it hurt so much when the baby went breech and they turned it around inside of her. And it hurts now, too, not like the other times and she’s so cold, so cold, and she doesn’t think she can go on because something’s terribly wrong and it hurts, it hurts, it hurts and finally the baby’s here but it’s not over because there’s something wrong with the baby and they’re not telling her they won’t tell her it’s the foot the baby’s foot is twisted and how will she tell her husband but it’s alive and how will she tell his parents it’s a girl but that’s okay there will be other sons, but no, they’re saying, no more babies, and they talk about tying her tubes and even though her husband has to agree to it that will become a wound between them but right now here’s this twisted little baby and how will she tell her parents and how will they tell their other children.
And too soon it’s six weeks later and the baby is sick and has to be rushed to the hospital and it’s dying this poor little twisted girl is dying and there is nothing that they can do nothing at all on earth and so they do the only thing they can do and the minister comes and he baptizes the child in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit and they name her Ann.
I can only try to imagine how overwhelming that ordeal must have been for my parents. Absolutely desperate, about to lose the last child they would ever have, there was nothing they could do. Every instinct told them, “Save her!” And that is what they did.
Physical birth is messy, at best. It can result in death or incapacitation. It can injure mother and baby permanently. For humans, sadly, it is not even always a welcome event.
Physical birth delivers us into a world where we are suddenly alone. No longer suspended and dependent, we are forced to breathe for ourselves, to make our needs known, to find our own way. We are severed from our life source.
How different is baptism! We are taken back, into the water, to the source of life, to the One who knows what we truly need, the One who promises to care for us forever. We are joined into a body, interdependent with other believers. Physical birth marks the beginning of life that will end in death. Spiritual rebirth marks the beginning of new and unending life.
In physical birth, we are thrust into a world that will judge us, quantify us, categorize us and stick us on a shelf if we don’t fit in. Sometimes it even does that in the name of love. We will grow up and grow old. We will feel loneliness and fear. Being born of the flesh often means being dragged down by the world’s condemnation. In baptism, we enter a relationship where we discover we are loved without condition, where we’re encouraged to grow without limit, to once more enjoy intimacy with our life source, and to find peace that passes all understanding. We meet a parent who delights in us and wants us to delight in Him. We don’t have to get good grades or bear children or have the right job.
One of my favorite childhood memories is of drive-in movies. I’d be in my pajamas and we’d all load into the station wagon for an adventure after dark. When we returned home, I’d be asleep and my father would gather me in his arms and carry me up to my bed. Being born from above means being aware of whose child I am, and how very much I am loved. That love carries me when the world would pull me down and protects me when the world attacks. I am once more utterly dependent, cradled in the everlasting arms of Almighty God who stoops down from heaven and continues to bear me from above.
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