We go to a Presbyterian church. For baptisms they usually go sprinkles, but for some reason they brought in a baptistry, a tall pool where the baptisee gets dunked.
It was way cool.
What happened afterwards was this: Small asked, “How old do you have to be to be baptized?” I told her I’d ask.
The pastor said at eight something happens and that is when He came to faith and lots of kids come to faith. However, Small seems to know what’s going on, and we, as parents, were doing a wonderful job. If we’re convinced she knows what it means to come to faith, she is welcome.
It was very hard not to cry during all these conversations, and even typing this out is making me teary. It is a dream for her to be a true follower of Jesus and that her heart be publicly dedicated him would make that dream come true. We’re doing what we can to show her who Jesus is and teach her to walk in his path.
It’s a celestial celebration and joy, what supernatural joy would there be when she makes the decision to let the world know that His footsteps are where she dares to trek. I get such joy seeing or hearing that the kids I once discipled are walking in the truth, pastoring churches or working as missionaries or even just continually seeking truth. For my own child from my womb to follow him? I tell you that might be one of the best thing to ever happen to me.
I explained to her a little about what the pastor said. I asked her if she wanted to be baptized. She said not now, she didn’t want to be that wet.