Not that I have already obtained this or have already reached the goal; but I press on to make it my own, because Christ Jesus has made me his own. Beloved, I do not consider that I have made it my own; but this one thing I do: forgetting what lies behind and straining forward to what lies ahead, I press on toward the goal for the prize of the heavenly call of God in Christ Jesus.

About three years ago, I wrote about my lack of natural running ability, which is a serious deficiency in a culture that values running and a lethal environment that sometimes demands it. In that article, I highlighted the importance of changing my routine when I become trapped in cycles of defeat in my running program. I suggested that this same strategy is helpful in life as well. If what you are doing doesn't work, try something else.

I've recently found the value in another strategy for physical training: visualizing the goal. When my mind tells me "you can't finish" or "you can quit now" or "man, I'm tired of this," I picture myself crossing the finish line. I can see myself in my mind's eye: head erect, full stride, feet striking the ground without pounding my knees, muscles pain free, breathing in rhythm with my pace, letting the refreshing wind hit my face, smiling with satisfaction at completing the run. This is not often what I actually experience as I cross the finish line. I am often sore in some part of my body, cold or hot, and fighting for breath.  Picturing success, however, helps me keep going when part of me wants to quit. It also helps my performance during the run itself; I start to run more like I picture myself running.

Almost everyone will recognize this as a "trick" of sport psychology. Elite athletes use imagery and mental rehearsals to hone their skills and increase their confidence. The mind processes imagined experiences much like it does "real" experiences. Visualization helps strengthen muscle memory and builds mental blueprints of how a task is performed. The proponents of visualization claim that its effectiveness has been demonstrated scientifically.

The use of visualization and imagery has applications outside the world of sports. The United States Military Academy at West Point pioneered the use of imagery for Soldier tasks as part of its Enhanced Performance program; the concept has now spread tot he rest of the Army. See, for example, the Army Center for Advanced Performance and the Fort Hood Resiliency Campus.

Typical combat tasks are similar enough to high-performance sports activities that the application is rather obvious: high demands on gross and fine motor skills in a high stress, physically demanding environment, with tasks that must be programmed into muscle memory, so that the mind can focus free from the need to think "how do I do this?"

The application, however, is even broader than the physical demands of combat or sporting events. Visualization can help people overcome their fears, live more confidently and perform important tasks better. It can help people in a variety of ways, from getting past an irrational fear of riding in airplanes to becoming a more effective speaker.

It can even help Christians grow both personally and in their service of Christ. Do you feel called to some ministry or service or work for God, but fear is holding you back? Or are you performing some service for God, but you think you are doing it clumsily and ineffectively and you lack confidence? Picturing yourself performing the task confidently and successfully can help! But if you need someone to teach you how to do this, ask someone else.

Visualization as a psychological tool belongs to the realm of common wisdom. It has been of some benefit to me personally and I imagine (no pun intended) that it might be a good thing for others as well. It is not, however, a prescription of the church for the cure of souls. It is common wisdom, not a religious practice. There is no reason then, in my opinion, to go searching through the Bible to find find it somewhere in the pages of scripture. There's no difference as far as I'm concerned between a doctor who says "If you want to have a fit body, eat these foods" and a psychologist who says, "If you want to have a fit mind, think these thoughts."

I received my theological training at a time when "pastoral counseling" was an important model of ordained ministry. I am no longer inclined to think of the church in general, or the pastor in particular, as some sort of junior partner in the practice of psychological therapy or behavioral health. I don't discount the validity of those disciplines, but my ordination bestows me with neither expertise nor vocation in those areas.

And while I’m on the topic , let me add that visualization itself has no power to change anything but me. Visualizing peace doesn’t cause my brain to emanate invisible “peace waves” into the community. It is possible, certainly, to pray with visual imagery, but the power in prayer belongs to God and not to the potency of my imagination.

So, then, that's enough about visualization as a means to enhance one's performance, "for, the training of the body has a limited benefit, but godliness is beneficial in every way, since it holds promise for the present life and also for the life to come." (1 Timothy 4:8)

So let us think, then, about becoming godly people and developing godly characters, and not just about at successfully reaching our goals in life. Even here, visualizing the end of our endeavors plays a significant role.

Paul says that he puts the past out of his mind and presses on toward the goal - the prize – of God’s heavenly call. As I envision the hope of God’s new creation, I find myself persevering in the faith. The hope – the promise – the vision - of God’s final victory in Christ keeps me putting one foot in front of another even when part of me tells me to quit the race. Looking beyond my immediate thoughts and emotions to the promise of life in God’s kingdom keeps me going, and envisioning what right looks like transforms the way I run the race.

I hope that it does not seem as if I am simply applying secular sports psychology to matters of religion. What I am describing is not strictly a psychological phenomenon; something even more powerful is at work. The end-state that we envision and the goal toward which we run is nothing other than the promise of the word of God. God works powerfully through his word in ways that transcend psychology. If we draw our vision of the end from our own hopes and dreams about the future, we will probably find psychological encouragement in that; we would, however, be building our hopes on our own fantasies. Apart from the word of God, it is no more true that the world “must” become a just and loving place than it is that I “must” live forever. Nothing is true simply because my sense of justice would be offended if it were not. If we are fortunate, we will recognize the hollowness of our imagination sooner rather than later.

God’s word, however, has the ability to create a living faith that perseveres in the face of every difficulty; it has the ability to transform us as we live in its presence.

The hope that God plants within us by means of his word enables us to persevere. Over time, focusing our vision on God's new creation will transform our hopes and desires in this age. In the age to come, love will overcome hate. Everyone will live in security and prosperity. No one will labor in vain. Knowledge will overcome ignorance. Truth will cast out falsehood. Life will triumph over violence, disease and death. All creation will live in peace and all creatures will enjoy God's good gifts. How can  you gaze on that vision of shalom - peace - wholeness - and not want to live in that world today? How can you not want it not only for yourself, but for your neighbors and your community and your world? That's what I mean when I say that the vision will change you.

So how do I keep the vision of God’s coming kingdom in view as I live my life. I suppose I could just try to think about it a lot. The church, however, has given us some ways to keep the vision of God’s future front and center in our minds. The church’s liturgy – its sacraments - its preaching of the word of God: these point us in two directions. They look backward, reminding us of what the scriptures tell us that God has done. They also look forward, to the fulfillment of God’s creative power in the age to come.

Our prayers also look forward to God’s final victory. Jesus teaches to always pray, “Your kingdom come.”

And I've learned to think of our experience in worship, fellowship and service as anticipating the future, final reign of God. What we experience when we are together as God's people ought to give us a preview of the age to come.

To keep running toward the goal, we have to believe that there is a divinely ordained end to this journey, and that God will enable us to reach it. Keeping our eyes on that prize is not all up to us. God has given us the promise of his word. Our brothers and sisters in Christ are there to help us remember what God has done, and where he is taking us. With God’s help, we can keep pressing on until we reach the end of the race.

Baptism is the sacrament of beginning in Christ.

Baptism is the initiatory sign by which God:

• incorporates us into Christ
• adopts us as heirs to the promises he made through Abraham, Moses and all the prophets
• establishes us in the covenant of grace founded on Christ's death and resurrection
• gives us the Holy Spirit
• unites us with Christ's holy Church in mission to all the world

In obedience to Christ's command, the church baptizes new Christians into the name of the Father, Son and Holy Spirit. Although baptism is performed by human hands, it is God's work, which he accomplishes by the power of his word. In the act of baptizing with water, the church both proclaims and believes the promise of God. Through the promise of God's word, the waters of baptism are powerful and effective. God's word to us in baptism is capable of accomplishing everything God intends. God's word and works bring salvation; they do not exclude faith, but demand faith.

God's promise in baptism includes:

• forgiveness of sins
• new birth from above in union with Christ by the power of the Holy Spirit
• communion with God's holy people in all places and ages
• empowerment by the Holy Spirit for holy living and service
• sure and certain hope of resurrection to eternal life in the age to come

Baptism sets the enduring pattern for Christian life and practice. In response to the gift of God, the old Adam in us should be drowned by daily repentance so that all sin and evil desires might pass away. In turn, a new person, who will live forever before God in righteousness and purity should daily come forth and rise from death.

Baptism is not only a sign of profession and mark of difference whereby Christians are distinguished from others that are not baptized; but it is also a sign of regeneration or the new birth. The Baptism of young children is to be retained in the Church.

Wesley adopted this from the Church of England’s Article 27. The key words Wesley omitted are highlighted below.

Baptism is not only a sign of profession and mark of difference by which Christian men are discerned from other that be not christened, but is also a sign of regeneration or new birth, whereby, as by an instrument, they that receive baptism rightly are grafted into the Church; the promises of the forgiveness of sin, and of our adoption to be the sons of God, by the Holy Spirit are visibly signed and sealed; faith is confirmed, and grace increased by virtue of prayer unto God. The baptism of young children is in any wise to be retained in the Church as most agreeable with the institution of Christ.

I think Wesley’s version is poorer for omitting baptism’s role in incorporating us into the Body of Christ. Wesley's A Treatise on Baptism, however, is much broader in its affirmations:

By baptism we enter into covenant with God . . . .

By baptism we are admitted into the Church . . . .

By baptism, we who were “by nature children of wrath” are made the children of God ...
being “grafted into the body of Christ’s Church, we are made the children of God by adoption and grace.”

For more on the contemporary United Methodist understanding of baptism, see By Water and the Spirit.

I also appreciate elements of Luther’s Small Catechism on Baptism.

1. What is Baptism?
Baptism is not just plain water, but it is water contained within God's command and united with God's Word.
Which Word of God is this?
The one which our Lord Christ spoke in the last chapter of Matthew:
Go into all the world and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them into the name of the Father, the Son and of the Holy Spirit.

2. What does Baptism give? What good is it?
It gives the forgiveness of sins, redeems from death and the Devil, gives eternal salvation to all who believe this, just as God's words and promises declare.
What are these words and promises of God?
Our Lord Christ spoke one of them in the last chapter of Mark:
Whoever believes and is baptized will be saved; but whoever does not believe will be damned. **

3. How can water do such great things?
Water doesn't make these things happen, of course. It is God's Word, which is with and in the water. Because, without God's Word, the water is plain water and not baptism. But with God's Word it is a Baptism, a grace-filled water of life, a bath of new birth in the Holy Spirit, as St. Paul said to Titus in the third chapter:
Through this bath of rebirth and renewal of the Holy Spirit, which He poured out on us abundantly through Jesus Christ, our Savior, that we, justified by the same grace are made heirs according to the hope of eternal life. This is a faithful saying.

4. What is the meaning of such a water Baptism?
It means that the old Adam in us should be drowned by daily sorrow and repentance, and die with all sins and evil lusts, and, in turn, a new person daily come forth and rise from death again. He will live forever before God in righteousness and purity.
Where is this written?
St. Paul says to the Romans in chapter six:
We are buried with Christ through Baptism into death, so that, in the same way Christ is risen from the dead by the glory of the Father, thus also must we walk in a new life.

Luther omits the corporate elements of baptism, but he makes the important relationship among water, word and faith clear. I also like his emphasis on daily repentance as a baptismal discipline.

Luther's Large Catechism also contains some gems worthy of reflection:

For to be baptized in the name of God is to be baptized not by men, but by God Himself. Therefore, although it is performed by human hands, it is nevertheless truly God's own work. . . .

But if they say, as they are accustomed: Still Baptism is itself a work, and you say works are of no avail for salvation; what, then, becomes of faith? Answer: Yes, our works, indeed, avail nothing for salvation; Baptism, however, is not our work, but God's . . . . God's works, however, are saving and necessary for salvation, and do not exclude, but demand, faith; for without faith they could not be apprehended. . . .

Baptism is quite another thing than all other water; not on account of the natural quality but because something more noble is here added; for God Himself stakes His honor, His power and might on it. Therefore it is not only natural water, but a divine, heavenly, holy, and blessed water, and in whatever other terms we can praise it,-all on account of the Word, which is a heavenly, holy Word, that no one can sufficiently extol, for it has, and is able to do, all that God is and can do [since it has all the virtue and power of God comprised in it].  Hence also it derives its essence as a Sacrament, as St. Augustine also taught: Accedat verbum ad elementum et fit sacramentum. That is, when the Word is joined to the element or natural substance, it becomes a Sacrament, that is, a holy and divine matter and sign. . . .

Therefore every Christian has enough in Baptism to learn and to practise all his life; for he has always enough to do to believe firmly what it promises and brings: victory over death and the devil, forgiveness of sin, the grace of God, the entire Christ, and the Holy Ghost with His gifts. . . .

So to return to the corporate aspect of baptism, let me end with the Reformed tradition and the Westminster Shorter Catechism which emphasizes our incorporation into Christ and the covenantal element of baptism.

Q. 94. What is baptism?

A. Baptism is a sacrament, wherein the washing with water in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost doth signify and seal our ingrafting into Christ, and partaking of the benefits of the covenant of grace, and our engagement to be the Lord’s.

Or, in simple words, directly from Calvin's Institutes of the Christian Religion (4:15:1),

Baptism is the initiatory sign by which we are admitted to the fellowship of the Church, that being ingrafted into Christ we may be accounted children of God.

Remember that you are baptized! Or if not, perhaps, come to the water.

----------

** Note: Luther’s quotes Mark 16:16, which current manuscript evidence strongly suggests was not part of the original text of Mark. He could have quoted Peter’s speech in Acts 2:38-39: Repent, and each one of you be baptized in the name of Jesus Christ for the forgiveness of your sins, and you will receive the gift of the Holy Spirit. For the promise is for you and your children, and for all who are far away, as many as the Lord our God will call to himself.

In his series of posts, Enns argues (successfully, I think) that the author of Exodus intentionally described the birth of Israel in “creation” language and images drawn directly from the the first chapters of Genesis. The creation of Israel is a kind of “new creation.” So far, so good, in my opinion.

His argument leads him to the parallel stories of Adam and Israel in which Enns finds the following pattern:

Israel’s history as a nation can be broken down as follows:

• Israel is “created” by God at the exodus through a cosmic battle (gods are defeated and the Red Sea is “divided”);
• The Israelites are given Canaan to inhabit, a lush land flowing with milk and honey;
• They remain in the land as long as they obey the Mosaic law;
• They persist in a pattern of disobedience and are exiled to Babylon.

Israel’s history parallels Adam’s drama in Genesis:

• Adam is created in Genesis 2 after the taming of chaos in Genesis 1;
• Adam is placed in a lush garden;
• Law (not to eat of the Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil) is given as a stipulation for remaining in the garden;
• Adam and Eve disobey and are exiled.

From this, Enns concludes:

Adam is the beginning of Israel, not humanity. . . . In other words, the Adam story is really an Israel story placed in primeval time. It is not a story of human origins but of Israel’s origins. . . . We are quite justified in concluding that the Adam story is not about absolute human origins but the beginning of one smaller subset, one particular people. The parallels between Israel and Adam that we see above tell us that the particular people in mind are Israel. Adam is “proto-Israel.”

Writing at Biologos, Enns expends a good bit of effort addressing those who take the first chapters of Genesis as a scientific explanation of human origins, a topic in which I have absolutely no interest. My concern is this: why did the author of Genesis use the pattern of Israel’s history in telling the story of Adam?

This is Enns’ answer to that question:

Some might object that Genesis 1-11 deals with universal matters, not merely one people: the entire cosmos created in Genesis 1, the flood, the disbursement of the nations after the flood. Absolutely. No question there. But the point is this: after the creation of humanity in Genesis 1, Genesis 2 begins to tell the story of “proto-Israel.” In other words, Israel was not a latecomer, coming into existence only in the exodus. Israel was always there as God’s specially chosen people since the beginning.

The parallelism that Enns sees here is intentional, I think, but Enns turns the authors’ intent on its head. Let me suggest an alternative answer: Israel is God’s new creation, but it  shares an Adam-like rebelliousness that is characteristic of all humanity. Those who belong to the people of Israel also belong to the larger family of Adam.

I think this answer better fits narrative context of Genesis-II Kings. The first eleven chapters tell stories of humanity’s universal sinfulness. With his call of Abram and the patriarchs, God begins the process of turning his creation around. The patriarchs are deeply flawed people, but God’s promise stands firm. With God’s creation of Israel in the events of Exodus, God has made for himself “a priestly kingdom and a holy nation” (Exodus 19:6). Like Adam, they are also a rebellious people, but their rebelliousness does not overcome God’s redemptive purpose. Time and again, the history reveals a people who rebel against God. It’s true in the desert, where God provides but the people rebel. It’s true in the conquest and settlement of Canaan, where God gives military victories but the people still rebel. One of the first things that one recognizes in the book of Judges is the so-called “Judges cycle” of sin, threat, repentance and deliverance. It’s also true in the age of kings and prophets. In fact, the Genesis-II Kings corpus came together some time around the exile to answer the question, “What happened? How did God’s people come to this?”

By prefacing the story of Israel with the story of Adam, the Biblical authors are establishing an important theological point: God’s people sin because they are human, and sin has been characteristic of humanity since the very beginning.

The doctrine of universal sin does not depend on a few verses in the letters of Paul but is written on almost every page of sacred scripture. Humanity’s sin-problem is deeply woven in the fabric of human existence. Changing political structures did not solve the problem. Israel sinned when it was a tribe of shepherds camping on the edges of civilization. It sinned when it was a mass of escaped slaves running through the desert. It sinned when it was a loose confederation of tribes in the hill country of the Jordan. It sinned when it was a baby kingdom and it sinned when it was a powerful empire. One cannot read the story of Israel without seeing in persistence of Adam.

Modern masters of science are much impressed with the need of beginning all inquiry with a fact. The ancient maters of religion were quite equally impressed with that necessity. They began with the fact of sin - a fact as practical of potatoes. Whether or no man could be washed in miraculous waters, there was no doubt at any rate that he wanted washing. But certain religious leaders in London, not mere materialists, have begun in our day not to deny the highly disputable water, but to deny the indisputable dirt. Certain new theologians dispute original sin, which is the only part of Christian theology which can really be proved. . . .

The strongest saints and the strongest skeptics alike took positive evil as the starting-point of their argument. If it be true (as it certainly is) that a man can feel exquisite happiness in skinning a cat, then the religious philosopher can only draw one of two deductions. He must either deny the existence of God, as all atheists do; or he must deny the present union between God and man, as all Christians do. The new theologians seem to think it a highly rationalistic solution to deny the cat.

Or, to put it more succinctly, it is widely reported that when The Times asked Chesterton for an essay on the theme, "What's wrong with the world," Chesterson simply wrote back:

Dear Sirs,
I am.
Sincerely yours,
G. K. Chesterton

Sounds right, but Chesterton also wrote a substantially longer reflection on the same subject, which can be found here: What's Wrong with the World.

At that very time there were some present who told him about the Galileans whose blood Pilate had mingled with their sacrifices. He asked them, "Do you think that because these Galileans suffered in this way they were worse sinners than all other Galileans? No, I tell you; but unless you repent, you will all perish as they did. Or those eighteen who were killed when the tower of Siloam fell on them--do you think that they were worse offenders than all the others living in Jerusalem? No, I tell you; but unless you repent, you will all perish just as they did." (Luke 13:1-5)

I don't think that Jesus' teaching in Luke 13:1-5 is about when bad things happen to good people or about the unpredictability of life or the about the inevitability of death. I think Jesus is speaking more like an Old Testament prophet at this point. Pilate murdered Galilean insurgents while they were worshiping in the temple? You think that's bad. You ain't seen nothing yet. Just wait. Unless you turn this nation around, God's judgment is coming. A few dead Galileans will be chump change. The Romans are coming and you are all going to die.

Why do I think this is a better way to interpret the passage, at least when it comes to Luke's intent? Repeatedly in this chapter, Jesus speaks of God's coming judgment on his people. Israel is like a fruitless fig tree, wasting the soil and needing to be cut down. There's just a little time left for it to turn around and start producing the fruit God expects (Luke 13:6-9). There will be weeping and gnashing of teeth when the people of Jesus' day see Abraham and Isaac and Jacob and all the prophets in the kingdom of God, and they themselves thrown out (Luke 13:28). Jesus identifies himself as a prophet when he locates his coming death in Jerusalem. "O Jerusalem, Jerusalem," Jesus laments, "you who kill the prophets and stone those who are sent to you! How often I have longed to gather your children together as a hen gathers her chicks under her wings, but you would have none of it! Look, your house is forsaken!" (Luke 13:34-35). God's judgment on Israel runs through this portion of the text. There's every reason to think, then, that when Jesus says, "Repent, or you will all die," he means it, and he intends for his threat to be taken collectively. He is referring to a coming, specific moment of historical judgment on Jerusalem, Judea and Galilee. The time of crisis is now, during Jesus' own ministry. How will God's people receive him? Their answer to that question will make all the difference for their collective future. (See also Luke 19:41-44, Luke 21:5-6 and Luke 21:20-24, which are also related to this theme.)

But what about that deadly accident at the tower of Siloam? Surely there Jesus is talking about a random tragedy. Perhaps, but not necessarily. We don't know the details of either event Jesus describes. Jesus' audience surely knew what he was talking about. Both events were probably fresh in the mind of those who heard Jesus speak. Jesus puts these two events together in his response to the news of the Galileans' death.

Pilate's slaughter of the Galileans is clearly political in nature and almost certainly connected to an insurrection against Rome. What about the tower? Maybe some folks were just walking by an old tower and it fell down, killing them. Eighteen folks is a lot of people to be killed randomly by falling masonry. A tower, however, is primarily a military fortification. Eighteen workers could easily be killed in a military construction accident.  In this case, Jesus' argument makes perfect sense.

"Ah, those Galilean troublemakers got what was coming to them," some Pharisees would cry. "Rising up against Rome like that. Don't they know the trouble they'll cause. And so impious of them. They are law breakers. They deserved to die."

"Oh, those traitorous stone masons," some Zealots would wail, "helping the Romans build that dreadful tower from which to threaten us and spy on us and attack us. Those collaborators got what was coming to them."

"What," Jesus would say to those tut-tutting at the Galileans. "Do you think they were worse sinners than all the other residents of Galilee?"

And to those wagging their heads at the dead stone masons, "And you, do you think those poor folks working on the tower were worse sinners than everyone else in Jerusalem?"

The listener's frame of reference, then, was not an abstract link between sin and bad karma (i.e. "the people who died must have done something wrong or committed some unknown sin, so that this bad but arbitrary fate has befallen them"). It is very specific.  In the eyes of those judging them, these people received the fate they deserved for the particular sins they committed. This is the point of view that Jesus exploits in his argument. He does not refute it, but builds on it.

"Unless you repent, you will all perish." Jesus says it twice. His point was not that we can't understand tragedy or that death is inevitable or that repentance in general is a good thing.  Jesus was making a "how much more" comparison. "If you think these guys got what they deserved, just wait until you see what's coming for you. Unless you turn around, you will all - Galileans and Judeans - collectively share the same fate." That much is clear.

And if the dead Galileans and the dead tower people were in fact on opposite ends of the spectrum in dealing with Rome, Jesus' message would have implied even more. "Don't think that your security is found in either opposing Rome or appeasing Rome. The same fate is waiting for you all. The problem is not Rome. Rome is just the agent of God's wrath. The problem is your individual and collective sin. The solution is repentance, the once-in-a-lifetime opportunity for which has now come. I am your last, best hope. I am your last shot at saving yourselves from Rome's destructive power. But you will not receive the gift I am offering."

That's what I think the text meant. For this text, however, it is not a quick or easy jump from what it meant to what it means.

One reason that Christians think so little of baptism is that we hide it away and think of it seldom. Out of sight, out of mind. Let's keep God's gift of baptism in plain sight so that it can begin to shape our thinking about what it means to be a Christian.

We ought to be framing our worship in terms of our baptism. We are gathered together in Christ because we have been united to him in baptism. Our liturgy of gathering should make this explicit. At the close of worship, we are sent into the world as Christ's representatives; our baptism is our ordination for service in the world in Christ's name. Our dismissal liturgies should also make this explicit.

And most of all, baptism should be the foundation of our approaching the Lord's table. Yes, I know that Wesley viewed communion as a converting ordnance. But, if the unbaptized might occasionally have a guest's place at the meal, the baptized belong there every time the table is set. Communion is something like a family reunion or holiday dinner. Yes, we sometimes have guests at at dining room table and we want them to feel at home, but there is a difference between a guest and a member of the family. Our liturgies should make the ordinary connection between baptism and communion clear. Baptism is beginning in Christ and union with Christ. Communion is continuing in Christ and participation in Christ.

In addition to the words of our liturgies, the church should visually remind the baptized of their baptism.

In Font, Table, Pulpit, I wrote that the baptismal font "serves as a visible reminder of our union with Christ." It should have prominent place in the church's worship space.

Likewise, the art with which we decorate our worship spaces should remind people of their baptism.

I also wrote that the church should select godparents for baptized infants who will "remind the parents (and later the children) on behalf of the church that a baptism had taken place."

The Catholic practice of placing Holy Water at the entrance of the sanctuary is a good one I think - except I wouldn't call it holy water and I would place a little sign above it that said, "Remember your baptism." It would be easy, I suppose, for this practice to become some sort of superstition, as if the water itself had magical powers. There have been many times, though, that I have wanted to dip my finger in the water and make the sign of the cross just as a way of affirming to myself who I am: I am baptized.

The ancient practice of aspersion - sprinkling water on the congregation - can also remind the faithful of their baptism. This one, I would use sparingly.

Finally, Adam Hamilton of the Church of the Resurrection gave me a shower-prayer-hanging-thing when a group of Army chaplains visited his church several years ago.  The point is that the waters of the shower are reminiscent of one's baptism. The words are a prayer, thanking God for one's baptism,  and asking - as one begins one's day - for God's blessing and for the power to be faithful to the God's covenant in Christ.

Lord, as I enter the water to bathe
I remember my baptism.
Wash me by your grace.
Fill me with your Spirit.
Renew my soul.
I pray that I might live as your child today,
and honor you in all that I do.
-- Church of the Resurrection Shower Prayer

(I lost my plastic shower hanging thing in one of my military moves. Church of the Resurrection, could you please send me another one!)

Baptism is God's gift for incorporating believers into Christ and the church. We should treasure this gift of God.

Remember your baptism, and be thankful.

Recent and Related:

Lent and Baptismal Renewal
Blame it on Bishop Willimon
Ordinary Christianity

Lent historically functioned as a time of final preparation for those who would be baptized at Easter. In some traditions, it still functions that way.

But Lent is also a period of repentance and "preparation" for Holy Week for those who are already Christians. What exactly does it mean? Is it about contemplating Christ's sufferings? Having a deeper spiritual life? Intentionally focusing on spiritual growth? Thinking exceptionally deep thoughts about God? Identifying with the poor or the marginalized? Doing something extra for God? Reforming some character flaw? Protestant churches which observe Lent are all over the map about its practice and the purpose.

Let me suggest that baptism is still perhaps the best lens through which to look at Lent. Thinking of Lent as a period of baptismal renewal, I think, could have a profound impact on our Lenten practices. I'm not even sure where this road might take us.

As it prepared to baptize new believers, the ancient church prayed with them and anointed them and exorcised their demons and instructed them in the meaning of the faith. Yes, fasting was a part of the practice, but it was not the whole. Lent was not an exercise in spiritual navel gazing; it was an activity by which the church assisted in the spiritual birth of new Christians.

The renewal of one's baptism is an activity that also requires the church to act. The church praying for its members, meeting together for encouragement and accountability, restoring those who have become alienated, seeking those who have dropped out, teaching the meaning of the baptismal creed: these to me are vital Lenten activities because they are fundamental to baptismal renewal. Sharing the Lord's table in also an act of covenant renewal and should be observed frequently during Lent. The baptismal ritual of the  United Methodist Book of Worship has liturgical resources for the renewal of baptismal vows. The end of the Lenten season is a perfect time to use these liturgies. Wesley's "Covenant Renewal" ritual also fits better in Lent, I think, than as a New Year's Eve service.

Preparing for baptism and confirmation are natural Lenten activities. Lent also provides the church the opportunity, I think, to assist all of its members to reclaim and reaffirm their baptism. To that end, individual spiritual disciplines are important, but so are corporate disciplines.

• Yahweh, Creation, and the Cosmic Battle
• Exodus, the Plagues, and the Cosmic Battle
• Exodus and the Cosmic Battle (Again)
• Exodus, Mt. Sinai and Creation
• Adam is Israel

Enns' observations make the Biblical authors' intention and artistry unmistakable. Read the whole series.

Enns is the author of Inspiration and Incarnation, a model for Old Testament hermeneutics and one of my "Best Theological Books" of the last decade.

I recently read D. G. Hart’s The Lost Soul of American Protestantism which makes a similar argument: the progressive liberalism of mainstream Christianity and the social conservatism of evangelicalism are both children of what he calls Anglo-American revivalism that began with the Great Awakenings. Revivalism itself was the child of continental pietism.

The sort of religion heralded by the revivals of the First Great Awakening is chiefly responsible for the triumph of a utilitarian view of faith. The itinerant evangelists of these revivals, as well as their successors, transformed Christianity from a churchly and routine affair into one that was intense and personal. The conversion experience marked the beginning of this new form of faith. But it was only the start. True converts were expected to prove the authenticity of their faith through lives that were visibly different from nonbelievers. Indeed, the demand for a clear distinction between the ways of the faithful and those of the world not only propelled many of the social reforms associated with evangelicalism but also provided the foundation for viewing Christianity in practical categories. If faith was supposed to make a difference in all areas of life, not just on Sunday but on every day of the week, it is no wonder that the emphasis in Protestant circles shifted from church forms of devotion to one that should be seen in personal affairs, community life and national purpose. In other words, the cycle of revivals throughout American religious history, inaugurated by the First Great Awakening, secured the victory of pietism within American Protestantism. Like its European antecedents, American pietism dismissed church creeds, structures and ceremonies as merely formal or external manifestations of religion that went only skin deep. In contrasts, pietists have insisted that genuine faith was one transformed individuals, starting with their heart and seeping into all walks of life.

Hart also argues, however, that historians have ignored a “third way” within American Christian history. Hart identifies this stream as confessionalism.

Confessional Protestants resisted revivals in large part because the methods of the evangelists and the piety expected of converts were generically Christian – sincerity, zeal and a moral life. As a result, revivalism did not respect but in fact undermined the importance of creedal subscription, ordination and liturgical order. In a word, confessionalists opposed revivalism because it spoke a different religious idiom, one that was individualistic, experiential, and perfectionistic, as opposed to the corporate, doctrinal and liturgical idiom of historic Protestantism.

The pietists, Hart says, won. Confessionalism lost and persevered primarily in small, ethnically based denominations.

One way to measure this defeat is to ask any American Protestant if the Apostle’s Creed, the real presence of Christ in the Lord’s Supper or the ministry of the local pastor is as important as personal times of prayer and Bible study, meeting with other Christians in small groups, witnessing to non-Christians, or volunteering at the local shelter for the homeless.

Pietism fit America. Hart’s history of pietism and American culture is a great read.It's particularly interesting to discover that before 1960, it was the mainstream or progressive side of the aisle that most saw itself aligned with American history and values.

My own Christian history belongs within the pietist movement. I was reared in a church that sang “Just as I Am” at the conclusion of every worship service and called for those accepting Christ to come forward. The history of the Methodist movement to which I now belong is pietistic through and through.

Yet I’ve come to believe in a form of Christianity that is at least as corporate as it is personal, that is sometimes intense but often routine, and that is confessional and liturgical at its heart. Creeds and confessions matter. What we believe matters. And, yes, I think to be a Christian is to be churchly. When I hear people disparage the routine, ordinary Sunday observances of word and sacrament by God’s assembled people, I cringe.

How did I come to be a confessionalist of sorts? The trend in post-modern Christianity is precisely in the other direction.

The non-Methodist church in which I grew up was both churchly and evangelical. It taught young people classes on something it called “churchmanship.” It would not have used these words, but its liturgy and corporate life were central to what it meant to be a Christian.

The pastor of the congregation in which I was originally ordained was a leader of the ACLU in North Carolina. You can imagine how socially active and politically vocal that church was, but boy did they know how to worship. The church’s constitution said, “The purpose of the church is to worship God.”

Even John Wesley, who was thoroughly immersed in the pietism of his day, was rooted in a churchly form of Christianity. His Methodist movement existed originally as a renewal movement within the Church of England, with its creeds and liturgy and Book of Common Prayer taken for granted. He expected his people to use the churchly means of grace. When American Methodists became an independent church, separate from the Church of England, Wesley sent them a liturgical prayer book adapted from the Book of Common Prayer. It never caught on in a church driven by the revivalist spirit. The lack of education and sparse conditions on the frontier surely played a role in that, but so did a suspicion of liturgical forms. The revivalists thought that proper liturgy was a poor substitute for religious zeal.

There are other signs that Wesley pulled back from some of the more extreme expressions of pietism to keep his movement rooted in churchly Christianity. It is true that Wesley saw dead churchmanship as the greatest threat to true faith. By neglecting the confessional foundation, however, we lose our identity. Without a confessional basis, warm hearts and open minds and catholic spirits can take you anywhere.

But if I have become a kind of confessionalist Christian, blame United Methodist Bishop Will Willimon most of all. In 1980 I belonged to a sort of pastoral book club that met at the Wesley Foundation at the University of Georgia. I was not a Methodist at that point. One month the group read Willmon’s Remember Who You Are: Baptism, A Model for Christian Life and I was blown away.  Willimon’s emphasis on what God does in baptism – in the church - objectively and apart from my feelings about it or my inner experience – put me on a trajectory toward a more confessional view of Christianity, and toward becoming a United Methodist. Later, the church fathers and the 16th century reformers would continue to take me in that direction. In my current assignment, my close association with Lutherans and Episcopalians has also had a great impact. But it is Willimon’s book, along with Dietrich Bohoeffer’s Life Together, that I return to time and again. Each in its own way roots Christianity in God’s actions for us in Christ and given to us in the corporate life of the church.

Blame Willimon.