I was 14 at the time. The pastor of our church was hosting a family BBQ/Baptism at his rural house with a pond. A few of my friends were being baptized, so I mentioned it to my father on the ride home from church. I told him about the event and asked if he would allow me to be baptized. He said no.
And so with no discussion of my heart or soul, I was scheduled to be baptized. For two weeks leading up to the event, I tried harder than ever to get my heart right with the Lord. I spent hours just praying, begging God to reveal himself to me. I poured over every page in the bible, looking for something that would move me to tears, or at least make me feel like this was real. I started to think that maybe God would show me something after the baptism. Or maybe even during! I dreamed of rainbows and rays of sunshine that God would send especially for me. My dreams turned to faith. I KNEW God would come thru. So I waited.
Later that day, I watched as, One by one, people waded out into the pond to be dunked by our cheerful pastor. Each one came up smiling. They scurried out of the water to hug their families and be congratulated. Nobody was speaking in tongues, or prophesying, and I knew that God was saving that for me. Finally it was my turn. My dad cuffed up his sleeves and waded out into the pond. I tucked my skirt between my legs and with one last silent prayer, I followed him. I heard the pastor reciting something about the father, son and Holy Spirit.
............and then down I went.
(To Be Continued)