As I sit in our home in Kuala Lipis, Malaysia, I reflect on the past week and the time my squad spent in Kuala Lumpur debriefing with our leaders and mentors. Debrief is a time for racers to rest, process, and be refilled for the months to come. It was during this time that I got the opportunity to be baptized. Throughout the week, and over the past couple months, the Lord had been revealing a lot to me about identity and the lack of confidence I had as His. As I voiced this struggle during a conversation with my squad dad, Tom, he challenged me to let go of these things and to get baptized with my team sometime throughout the month. Little did he know that the Lord had been pricking my heart and bringing up baptism long before this. His words were the tipping point and within twenty four hours I had asked him to baptize me during our time together. We began planning the logistics due to the fact that the only body of water large enough for my 5’9″ was a hotel bathtub. It wasn’t an easy task, but it got the job done.
Before the actual baptism occurred, Tom and I discussed the importance of what was to occur and what it meant to me. We talked specifically about the baptism of Jesus in the Jordan and the words the Lord spoke to him directly after he come out of the water. Matthew 3:13-17 says, “Then Jesus came from Galilee to the Jordan to be baptized by John. But John tried to deter him, saying, “I need to be baptized by you, and do you come to me?” Jesus replied, “Let it be so now; it is proper for us to do this to fulfill all righteousness.” Then John consented. As soon as Jesus was baptized, he went up out of the water. At that moment heaven was opened, and he saw the Spirit of God descending like a dove and alighting on him. And a voice from heaven said, “This is my Son, whom I love; with him I am well pleased.” The Lord spoke directly to him, calling Jesus His own, and He does the same to us.
Over the next day, I took some time to invest in the topic and found that baptism is a transliteration of the original Greek word baptizw (baptizo). It comes from the root word baptw (bapto), a term used in the first century for immersing a garment first into bleach and then into dye, both cleansing and changing the color of the cloth. This relates to the cleansing of sin and becoming a new person through Christ. For me this “cleansing and being new” directly related to identity. Releasing the identity given to me by things and people of this world, and accepting what the Lord calls and has for me. The Lord was calling me to trust in something deeper and more concrete than I was before. He was calling me to trust in Him.
One night during squad worship, the Lord gave me a visual representation of the contrast between this cleansing of the “old” and acceptance of the “new”. He showed me that the identity I was currently trying to walk in, the “old”, was similar to the game of Jenga. Jenga consists of several wood blocks that are arranged accordingly. They fit alongside one another and are stacked to create a freestanding structure. For me, each block represented a word that had been used to identify me over the years; pieces I’d picked up from people, places and things throughout my life. Once stacked neatly on top of one another, the pieces were seemingly sturdy and firm. Over time, the blocks in the game are pushed, pulled, removed and placed once again on the top of the pile. Just like this, the pieces used to identify me began to change. Opinions lacked consistency, things evolved, circumstances differed, all the while causing a shift in my structure. Blocks were crooked and loose, holes began to reveal themselves and what was once stable became unsteady and swaying. This outward appearance of chaos was a direct reflection of an interior full of doubt and uncertainty. My identity, once formed by the compiling of words from the various people and things in my life, was now wavering and in question. So much to the degree that when pushed one more time, the entire game crumbled and I sat in disbelief. Disbelief that I was loved. Valued. Gifted. Forgiven. Called. Worthy. Disbelief that I was His. What was left of the game was scattered across the floor. Should I pick them up and play again? Trash them? Leave them where they are? What next? It was then the Lord offered me a rock, a deal: Trade in all the scattered pieces for this one object, solid and mighty, representing the security and simplicity of identity firmly rooted in Him. Identity unchanging and everlasting. Identity given by my creator and redeemer. So when the day came, October 27, 2015, I brought all my pieces to the tub. And as the water washed them away, it brought something new. It brought a rock. It brought identity. It brought freedom.
“He alone is my rock and my salvation, my fortress; I shall not be greatly shaken.” Psalm 62:2
