How can you baptise if your baptistry is not full of water? A tongue in cheek comment at a conference I went to this week, but it reminded me of a blog I wrote a little while ago but didn't end up doing anything with.
On a Saturday morning, a little while ago, for the second time in a couple of months I cleared out the baptistry at church so we could have a 'dry run'. To be fair, it was my fault the baptistry was full of stuff because I'd put someones stuff in there for safe keeping whilst it was waiting for it to be sorted out. It's now in in my loft and in the cupboard in my spare room.
To get to the baptistry I had to move bags of glue and shortbread, a set of drums and some tambourines and a selection of things that look kind of like microphone stands but could be something else entirely. So much stuff in the way. Whilst the stuff in the baptistry wouldn't stop people getting baptised - it could be moved - perhaps it might be symbolic of something bigger.
We all long for restoration - for transformation - as we look at the world around us - as we look at our own lives - we long for things to be better and we hope that one day they will be. The whole act of believers' baptism is about that - it is a symbol of the transformation we receive in Jesus - moving from old to new, the putting on of new clothes - through death to new life - restoration. The empty baptistry just needs to be filled with water (and hopefully warmed up) - and it will be in a weeks time - but a baptistry full of stuff needs more work. When we want to see change we're stopped in our tracks because the stuff we treasure builds up and in our wisdom we leave it there and use it as a convenient excuse to not work towards the transformation we're called to. A blanket statement stops the baptistry being filled - 'there's stuff in the baptistry' is a poor excuse for not filling it with water. Blanket statements stop transformation - 'nothing is going to change so why bother?' If I don't remove the rubbish, I don't need to get wet If I don't clear my table, I can't invite people round If I don't fill in the form, I won't have to deal with result If I just don't turn up it's not my problem anymore. If we want to see this world change we've got to stop treasuring all the stuff that stops the change. I watched the Two Popes on Netflix last night and one phrase that struck me was 'nobody's problem becomes everybody's problem'.
That's it isn't it? We don't clear the stuff out of the baptistry just so we can stand in there when we feel like it. We clean the stuff out of the baptistry to open that door for others..... because you never know, by doing so, you might begin a sequence of events that does change things for the better after all. What is the rubbish, the treasure, the barrier you're refusing to remove? Stop making excuses, because when you start stepping forward, those things that stop us, they will disappear, and it will come..... "Trust God from the bottom of your heart; don't try to figure out everything on your own. Listen for God's voice in everything you do, everywhere you go; he's the one who will keep you on track" Proverbs 3:5-6
I love my dining table. When I bought my first (and only) house, it was almost the first piece of furniture I bought. It's actually a desk, but too beautiful to be covered in paper. It's glass and it has a black design on it with flowers and butterflies. When I bought it I got everything else in my dining room to match - from pictures to chairs it matches. I bought lights to put under it so that when the main lights were dim, the lights would project the flowers and the butterflies onto the ceiling.... but they're long gone now because the batteries leaked and I couldn't find a screwdriver to get them out. I enjoy inviting people round to sit at my dining table (impractically small though it is, and despite the green carpet in my current house which really doesn't go....). I enjoy cooking for people and eating with people and talking to people and sharing with people and generally being round the table. But right now my dining table looks like this.....
And that's not unusual. It's an easy dumping ground for washing before I get round to folding it and putting it away and despite the promising chopping board in the middle that is calling out for beautiful crusty bread to be dipped in homemade soup, it doesn't seem like a dining table anymore. My table is full, but not with food to feed others - it's lost its purpose, its focus, its meaning. I can't have anyone round to eat now. The table is too full. A huge barrier to building community - which we can do so beautifully by sharing with others round the table - is when our tables are too full, or we don't make space for a table at all. Our busy lives mean that a quick bite is all we can manage and the less people around for the quick bite the better. Our schedules mean that we don't get to the room with the table at the same time, so we eat alone, or just with those whose schedules match ours. Our aim for perfection means that nobody can come round until we're tidy and we've got the time to cook our best food, otherwise they'll judge us, holding up Come Dine with Me score cards that shame us to never invite anyone again. We worry that we won't like the food and our hosts would be offended if we brought our own. We fill our lives with stuff so we don't have to do the things that are of most value. But why?
I passionately believe that's not how it should be. Community is built through trust. Community is built when we learn to live and eat alongside one another whether we have tidied up or not. Jesus regularly ate with all sorts of people. He invited himself to Zacchaeus' for tea (I wonder if Zacchaeus panicked about all the piles of money on his dinner table). He went to Mary and Martha's, and Martha tidied and fussed so she didn't have time to sit at Jesus feet (her own pride and expectations piled up on the table). And after he was raised from the dead he sat and cooked breakfast on the beach for the dirty, smelly, tired fishermen who were his closest friends (I suspect they didn't even wash their hands). If we're serious about being part of a community where trust and friendship that is like family comes naturally, where we learn how to live in a way that reflects our faith and values and where people can be welcomed whoever they are, then we need to clear all that stuff off our tables. And eat. And talk. And laugh. And let go. Because when we eat together, good things happen.
(and just to note - my table will be cleared next week, and even before its clear, if you drop in, I'll feed you and if it has to be on the living room floor, then I'll give you my best cushion to sit on).
How can you baptise if your baptistry is not full of water? 
