Something tiny, possibly imperceptible to many, has brought me so much joy today. My baptism, nine years ago, is for me an anchor into faith. On the shores of doubt, I lean back on those promises, hold tight to the strong sense of God’s love for me that I felt on that day.
This morning, I watched as three older children from my church were baptised. I listened as one of them talked to the congregation about her growing faith, whilst diligently taking photographs for her, as requested. Listened as she said my name as someone who has helped her to learn of God. My name: when there were many others she could have mentioned. She chose to say my name. I helped her learn about God. I was humbled: I consider it to be the other way around.
I felt my spirits lift as she said that. Could see the joy in the rest of the service. Felt my mind skipping and leaping all over the place, as I led junior church, because it was lovely to be back there again after more than a month away. Because I felt truly like I was wanted there; truly like I belong. I remembered my own baptism. I am washed in Love.