Promises, promises

I have been surrounded and involved in Christianity since i was born. It was in many ways the air i breathed.

As much as being a middle class protestant in north armagh, with a good dose of  rationalism and the growing critique of modernism…

I am everything I am because of everything I am – to try and simplify faith into a simple indoctrinating process shoots away the ground you stand on.

I remain surrounded by and involved in Christianity. And lots of interesting and exciting and lovely and horrible things have happened along the way. I plan to live a life surrounded by and involved in the Christian faith.

I cannot put a definite time on the beginning of my faith. I remember feeling strongly about it and praying with my family shortly after one of my child hood friends was killed in an accident. That meant something. I’m not sure what.

I’m not sure a distinct point of salvation means anything. I imagine time looks different from the perspective of infinity.

I grew up in a Church of Ireland church but was never baptised. My parents were unclear about baptising babies and so they figured they’d let us grow up and decide on baptism ourselves.

And I suppose I did decide about baptism – about 14 years ago about. Yet I only just got round to it sunday past.

It was cool. Not that covers the theological aesthetics of it all. But it was.

Our place mainly baptised babies but has been known to baptise adults when the need arises.

I figured me and Simy would go for the baby option and he could scream through the service and I’d wet myself and vomit over the minister.

Standing at the front of the church with Simy was weird. Just the two of us and a minister. I felt we should be holding hands or I should be wearing a dress. Maybe next time…

We each got a minute or so to introduce ourselves and a bit of our story and why we were getting baptised.

Then we knelt and got slightly damp and I cried.

These are powerful things. The church – this disparate bunch of legalists, sinners, lovers, haters, bored and zealous – this church is the most powerful thing in the world. Broken and ugly GOD loves his bride. This makes me cry.

Da was not there. Understandably. And most people there knew it. And most people there felt it. They’re a good bunch to cry in front of. I’m grateful for them.

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