Unzipped

    On a hot Saturday afternoon in July, my dad and I were at Marilee Baptist Church running a hose from the outside rain tank inside to the baptistry. There were to be baptisms Sunday morning.

     Marilee was a country community with its one church in a corn field down a gravel road from a small store and a cotton gin. We couldn't afford an evangelist for the summer revival, but Brother R.L. Stanley, our part-time pastor, said God could make it work. Brother Stanley preached and God took it from there.

    As I had done before, I leaned over the edge of the baptistry with a strainer, in front of a large mural of the Jordan River, swishing through the water to catch future mosquitoes called wigglers.

    Dad said it's hard to concentrate on cleansing your sins if wigglers are swimming through your baptismal blue jeans. So I swished and strained until every wiggler or other yucky looking creature was removed from the Jordan River, which after years of baptisms was looking a little rusty around the edges.

    This time the job seemed more important. This time I was being baptized.

Taking to Jesus

    Jesus and I had talked about it earlier in the week as I walked home across a pasture. You can have some good talks with God when it's just you and Him and the cows.

    I was walking from my friend James's, where the two of us had played some serious baseball. James was the Yankees, I was the Red Sox. James was 11 years old, I was 9.

    It was so great to have a friend to play ball with. I thanked God for James and asked him to forgive James for always winning. And since we were in the midst of revival week, I also prayed that James would ask Jesus into his heart.

    Suddenly, God seemed to say, "Son, maybe you should be thinking about your own heart."

Revive Us Again

    That night at the revival service, I walked to the front of the church and told Brother Stanley I knew I was a sinner and needed a Savior and Lord. The pastor and I asked Jesus to live forever in my heart.

    Three days later the baptistry was full and wiggler free, ready to make me whiter than snow. Okay, it's only a ritual, but I was getting excited.

    Even by age 9, I was feeling pretty sinful. Especially since I had crippled my brother's dog Skippy with a firecracker. It was a small firecracker, and I had tossed it under Skippy only to scare him. I had no idea he would step on it just as it exploded.

    Almost a month later Skippy was still limping. I really needed baptizing!

    Near the end of the Sunday service, while the congregation sang "Just As I Am," I changed from my Sunday jeans into old ones and an everyday shirt. I was ready. Nervous but ready.

On Jordan's Stormy Banks

    I stepped down into the baptistry confident no wigglers would attack me.

    "I baptize you, my little brother, in the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit,"  said the pastor

    I closed my eyes and held my nose and felt my sins being flushed away.

    I had goose bumps. Possibly because the water was cold, but I was pretty sure they were spiritual goose bumps.

Open Arms, Open Hearts, Open Pants?

    Quickly back into dry clothes, I soaked up the hugs and handshakes of the congregation of about 50 or 60 saints. Our deacon chairman Sam Miller motioned for me. Expecting to be welcomed into the Kingdom, I ran right over.

    Sam leaned down and whispered, "Son, zip up your pants."

    I was a new creature -- with my pants unzipped!

    All the spiritual awakening and attention had me so hyped up I had dressed too quickly after the baptism.

    Had anyone else noticed? Lord! Had I been unzipped in the baptistry? Was a baptism good if your fly was open?

Unzipped for Life

    Years later, I decided it was all symbolic. So often I've rushed through life with my mind, mouth, or soul unzipped, with wrong thoughts and words creating a spiritual leakage only God's grace can repair.

    But the baptism was good. And God answered my prayer for James, who accepted Christ a couple of years later.

    God continues to answer my prayers, He has blessed me far beyond my wildest dreams. I'm convinced, when I ask, He still forgives my almost continuous spiritual lapses and leaks.

    I still talk to Him lots. I have to.

    And when I get to heaven, if my new body is clothed, before I meet Jesus ... surely I'll remember to check my zipper.

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