Ukarumpa doesn't have a church. Okay, that's not quite true. As the Body of Christ, we, of course, are the Church. But the members of our community come from all over the world, from many different cultural and denominational backgrounds, and as you can imagine in a missionary community, there is a higher than average number of ordained pastors per capita. But there is no "church" as you might imagine. We have a meeting house where we meet on Sundays and usually one of the aforementioned pastors will speak, or a visiting pastor might be in town and he'll speak. But we don't have a regular pastor or a regular church staff. It's all done by members of the community, which is either fantastic or really awful, depending on what you need, I guess.
So some time ago my kids (all three and without any pressure from me) let me know that they all wanted to be baptised. I was happy about this and thought that probably the next time we were in the US or the UK the kids could enroll in some kind of pre-baptism training (just like I went through when I was a kid and got baptised) and hopefully God would provide a pastor or a youth group leader who they would want to baptise them. I said all this to them.
"But Dad", they said, "we want YOU to baptise us!"
Now I know that the correct should have been unbridled joy at the thought of such a wonderful opportunity, but no! I was freaking out. Was I qualified to baptise people? Didn't you have to be a pastor? At least a youth group leader?
I'm ashamed to admit it now, but I put them off. We had lots of stuff going on and no time, etc., and I knew it wasn't great to be putting them off, I mean, I really didn't want to "quench the Spirit" so to speak.
Time went by. And then several other kids in the community decided that they wanted to get baptised, and my kids decided that they did, too. I knew I should be excited, but I was filled with dread. What if I got it wrong? What if I accidentally swerved into heresy? Who am I to be baptising people? I'M A MECHANIC!
The big day came and over breakfast I let my son know what I was thinking. "What if I get it wrong?" "Dad", he said, "that's silly! You won't get it wrong." And of course I knew he was right. Looking back at Bibical baptisms, there's no great long liturgy that needs to be memorised and delivered in iambic pentameter. It's just stuff like the Ethiopian who said "Hey look! Here is water! Why shouldn't I be baptised RIGHT NOW?!" And of course Philip baptised him.
So, at 2 p.m., we and about 50 other people made our way down to a local river. One of the pastors from our community gave a short talk about baptism and the 10 kids who had chosen to be baptised that day were baptised. Some by the pastor, some by their dads, My kids were the last, numbers 8, 9, and 10.
We decided to go in birth order, which seemed to make sense. My son and I walked towards the water. At some point it sank in what we were doing and I started crying. I stopped at the edge of the water, facing away from the crowd and tried to regain my composure, but all to no avail. Others saw me and they started crying, too. It was either a really special time or a real mess, depending on your point of view, I guess. I'm super thankful that my kids were not embarrassed by my tears.
I spoke to the crowd, and it was hard because I was crying and couldn't stop and my voice broke and it was a disaster, but a special and holy time. "I'm not a pastor", I said, "by God's grace I am a mechanic!" I paused and spoke to the crowd again, "I hope nobody will be offended if I ask my wife to help me." There did not seem to be any objection, especially as I was so emotional, and my lovely wife came forward and asked each of the kids the questions we had agreed to ask them and together my son and I walked out into the river.
So that's how that went! In the end I realised what a special thing it was to be able to baptise my own kids. I am thrilled that they have made public their commitment to follow Christ and I love them all very much! Pray for MK's (missionary kids). We love them, but like all kids, they do have their struggles, some more than others.
These photos were all taken by Anita McCarthy, who is a great photographer.
