Imago Dei....What I Saw at Bluewater

I looked up from my shady spot under the tall red pine to watch a young boy and an older woman dipped back into the cool lake waters.  They had come before this group to declare their devotion to Christ through the ceremony of baptism.  In God's immense creativity, He designed a beautiful symbol that will forever be a step in the Christian faith: descending into the waters of death, then bursting forth new and sputtering and dripping with life. 

I remember Dave standing next to me, smiling a nervous, encouraging grin as we took the same drenching journey almost 20 years ago.  Our dabbling, half-hearted interest in Christianity had taken a dramatic turn into full-blown faith, and baptism was our way of saying, "No turning back.  No turning back."  Since then, God has slowly, steadily taken over my eyes, as I've honestly sung and believed the words "Be Thou My Vision." 

What I was really paying attention to as I stood under the pine last Saturday was not the baptism, but something that caused a sting of tears in my eyes. Four children from four different families were all within feet of each other.

Joswe sat on the ledge.  He is the son of missionaries from Spain.  He has a chromosomal anomaly which you don't notice until he tries to communicate with you and is difficult to understand.  He makes you listen more intently than you listen to others, because you find that you can understand him if you make the effort.  He is enraptured by rhythm.  I had asked him to play the djembe drum during one of our worship songs and he was perfectly amazing. 

Near him sat Ariana.  She has a physical malformation that renders her small arms permanently bent and out of proportion with her body.  But God gave her a tender sweetness, a self-determination, and a servant's heart.  Earlier, I had watched her wash the tables in the dining hall.  To move the wet cloth, she had to have her cheek nearly on the table, and I wonder how far we are willing to bend to serve others. 

Young Levi is the pastor's son.  He also has a chromosomal issue and is difficult to understand.  But I loved his fresh, unfiltered comments.  "You're strong," he told me, looking at my bare arms.  "I lift weights," I told him.  He nodded, approvingly.  That sealed our friendship for the weekend.  He wants to have 9 children when he grows up.  Six boys and three girls. 

Next to Levi was Mariah, moving in her dance-like way.  Her seizures got so serious that Mayo doctors severed her corpus-callosum, which connects the two sides of her brain.  It corrected her seizures, but it makes her a handful for her two amazing parents.  Kind of like a permanent 2 year old in a 9 year old body.  My goal was to persuade a smile out of her over the weekend.  I didn't quite accomplish that, but I did take a damp towel and ran it gently over her warm, sweaty face, and she looked at me squarely with her large gray eyes with something like a thank you.

I'm not sure that anyone else noticed these four special kids so near each other in the crowd.  But I believe I was meant to notice, because in my vision, they were glowing and the phrase imago dei was flooding my mind.  Image of God.

These child-souls were drenched in the image of God.  Washed in the glow.  Baptized in sacred love.