Live in the Divine Romance

The church I attended as a child sprinkled babies. They didn’t wait and baptize believers after they learned what believing was all about. My Methodism wet me very early—a tradition held, a body held, a belief held.

From baby to little boy, I aged. Trying to know God and love God and live for God better, and trying to understand better what knowing God and loving God and living for God meant, I sprinted into my teens.

Often, I failed.

Often, I felt a need for another cleansing.

I still recall parts of a conversation with my cousin Dennis Clark. Though eight years older, he took time for me. We played sports and watched sports and cheered sports. After he surrendered his life to Jesus, Dennis wanted to be sure I joined him in that journey. So, as we sat in his house at halftime of a college football bowl game waiting for a New Year to arrive, I prayed the prayer. Though I now know Jesus had been with me in many ways through my early years, that night helped me dive into the life of a divine romance. And though I wasn’t sure about everything and though I am still not sure about everything, I was sure enough to know what, and Who, I needed. I meant what I prayed.

Later, since I had returned to what I previously said I believed, I desired a full baptism this time rather than a dip—all of me underwater as immersed as possible for as long as possible. Joe Swails, my mentor and teacher and coach and minister, agreed to get me wet. He dropped me deep down into Lake Hartwell. Was the water more holy through the thunder we heard? Was the lightning not-too-close-but-not-far-enough-away a sign? No and no. But Joe helped the ritual symbolize purification from death. His ex- ample of living the divine romance didn’t end when we hurried out of the lake before the storm became worse. His influence included listening to me and loving me, challenging me and mentoring me, teaching me to pray and helping me learn to live the divine romance in all of life’s uneven surfaces.