Pilgrimage to the Beach Part 2 - Another Family Secret

Gene Sims on a dune at the lake

  I ended the previous post saying that skinny dipping was an act of worship.  It is all natural, and with the right awareness, it's a sacred baptism into the essence of the omnipresent Creator who exists in the lake, the sunset, the forest, the water lily, the broom closet, and...  well, everywhere - if He is really omnipresent.

  And speaking of baptism, that reminded me of another childhood experience that was a perfect example of the generous orthodoxy of my dad, who must have been a misfit as a pastor in an untra-conservative era in the evangelical church in America.  I realize now that much of my own liberality must have come from him, as I am certainly not a legalist.

  Baptisms happened two or three times a year in the Missionary Church, and they took a lot of preparation.  In our church, the baptismal tank was under the podium and had to be opened up by lifting off the heavy platforms, drawing water overnight from a garden hose that ran out of the utility room nearby, and then placing electric heaters into the water for several hours to warm it (cold baptismal water could bring on a sudden manifestation that mimics a charismatic outburst, so it was quite unwelcome in the holiness church where the Holy Spirit was always required to "Be a gentleman").

  My two younger brothers and I watched this process with interest, and at some point that warm water - in the middle of the cold winter - reminded one of us of the warm waters of Lake Michigan where we had frolicked the summer before.  It seemed a waste to let it all drain out after the service without any participation on our part, and the obvious question eventually surfaced:

  "Dad, can we go swimming in the baptistry after the service tonight?"

  After a long thoughtful pause, and much to my mother's chagrin, the answer was, "Yes, but don't tell anybody."

  And sure enough, after everyone had gone home that night, we ran back to the parsonage next door, changed into our swim trunks, and ran back through the cold to our unexpected wintertime beach.  And there we received a second blessing, three boys, splashing around in the church baptistry, while Dad locked the doors and Mom nervously double-checked the parking lot.  After all, that kind of display of irreverence could be seen as a sacrilege to the elders and the church ladies (the other omnipresent entities in the spiritual universe) which could kill the joy in a moment and end a man's ministerial career with a short phone call to the superintendent.

  My dad took chances with his magnanimous and liberated spirit.  He had discovered a "wideness in God's mercy" that other clergy would sing about during the worship time and then refute a few minutes later in their challenging sermons.  I think Dad knew that his kids sometimes needed a break from the legalism that saturated the place.

  "Don't run in the House of the Lord!"  "Your heavenly father is watching you."

  I am convinced that much of the church world still lives and moves in the Old Testament and the Law and has never really discovered that through Christ we are now living in the age of Grace.  "There is therefore now much condemnation." (Roman 8:1 twisted every Sunday morning.)

  Only a couple of years ago I listened to a sermon from a pastor who suggested that it was irreverent to wear jeans to church on Sunday morning (I was wearing shorts that day).  When I questioned him about it later, he said, "If you were going to see the Queen of England wouldn't you dress up to be in her presence?"  And I realized that this man (and millions of others) had never really discovered the omnipresence of God in the world and in everyday life.  Though he had certainly studied the attributes of God in his theology classes in seminary, he was viewing spirituality from a pre-Jesus perspective, an Old Testament framework where God dwelt in a holy temple.

  The New Testament is clear that God no longer dwells in brick and mortar buildings but in us, his children, for we are "living stones being built up into a spiritual house". (I Peter 2:5)  I am no more in the presence of the Lord in the church building than I am in my garage or my pickup truck - or in the bathroom changing the baby's diaper.  Or down at the river fishing.  Or water skiing.  Or skinny dipping.

  If a person only feels the presence of God during a twenty-minute worship set every Sunday morning, then they really need to open their eyes.  God is all and in all, and "in Him we live and move and have our being." (Acts 17:28)  That indicates an all-the-time-ness and everywhere-ness to our co-existence, our oneness with Him.

  Dad's been gone for five years and I miss him.  But his Jesus-filled irreverence will live on in my brothers and sisters and me and in generations to come (I don't remember my two sisters ever swimming in the baptistry, but it might have happened).

  This is probably why I've spent my whole life celebrating.  Jesus launched his ministry at a wedding party, and he ended it at a meal with friends, bracketing his ministry with feasting.  Fasting is so Old Testament.  Feasting is New Testament.  I'm living in the New.  My kids will recall the countless times as they were growing up that I said, "Let's order a pizza to celebrate!"

  "Dad, what are we celebrating?"

  "I don't know, but I'll think of something."  And I always did.

  Loosen up friends,  God is everywhere.  Enjoy Him.

  Now, since I'm telling family secrets, let me tell you about my mom, who broke the rules too....