As the calendar turns and the clock ticks, I find myself once again at February the 4th. I cannot believe this date has rolled around again so quickly, because it was just February the fourth a few short days ago. Really.....
I remember.........
The year is 1973....My mother is pregnant with twins, but she does not know that yet. All she knows is that something is very different. She has a while til July. It is the week of our "gospel meeting"---what other people call revivals. It is a cold February night, the fourth day of the month, in the quiet little town of Franklin, Tennessee.
I am at church on a school night. James Cope is in town. He has been here all week delivering timely lessons about the home and family. It has been good to hear him every night. He is the president of the college where I want to go some day, in addition to being a gospel preacher. He is an accomplished orator and a respected Bible scholar. He goes long every night, but you don't notice or mind, because he is a captivating speaker.
I am 10 1/2 years old. I have been babysitting for about a year now for ladies in my neighborhood. I am mature for my age, I am told. I have something more on my mind than the lesson tonight. My conscience is tender, and I have waited as long as I can stand it to become a Christian.
I am not the only one with a heart that has been touched tonight. Roughly 16 others (if my poor memory serves me right) decide that tonight is the night to start a new life as well. My younger brother is also in this convicted group of believers. So is my best friend in the world, several of my classmates, and a future cousin by marriage! 7 others decide to rededicate their lives to the Lord. It is like nothing I have ever seen. I have heard that in the "olden days," it was not at all uncommon to baptize this many at one time. In 1973, people are not as worried about the state of their souls.
The song leader is doing his part. He has enthusiastically led number 598, "Lord, I'm Coming Home," all the way through, three complete times now--all six of the verses each time!
"Brother Joe---one more verse, please" the preacher calls. This continues one verse at a time until the penitents stop coming. Brother Rufus, the local preacher is ecstatic. He knew the fields were "ripe unto harvest," but he had no idea this many would be moved.
Boys to the left...girls to the right. We are sent to changing rooms, and the baptisms begin. Brother Rufus has become so overcome with emotion that he has forgotten to solicit a confession of Christ from each convert. So it must be accomplished in the baptistry now before the immersions. It all works out fine. It takes a while to dress and baptize 16 people. No one cares. There are a lot of happy parents in the crowd!
"Do you believe that Jesus Christ is the Son of God?" With each affirmation comes another plunging and another birth of a babe in Christ!
I end up somewhere towards the back of the girls line. I get stuck with a wet baptismal gown. It is cold, but it does not matter. This is the day I have longed for since I was at least 6 years old. My only sadness is that my father is not here to see my brother and me baptized. He is a lawman, and duty calls tonight.
Fast forward 31 years.
It is February 4, 2004. I am now 41 and the mother of five children. I never dreamed in 1973 when my mother gave birth to those twins, babies number four and five, that I would someday equal my mother's accomplishment in birthing. But I have, and as I remember the day when my sins were washed away, my baby number three is walking the aisle.
He doesn't know what day it is. I did not tell him the significance of February the 4th. He just happened to decide that this was the day he would start his new life. He has wanted to do this every since he was little bitty. We encouraged him to wait until he was old enough to understand what it means to die to your sins and live for the Lord.
Micah's dad is not here either. But it is for different reasons. He left the Lord and me and Micah a long time ago. Micah was three months old then; now he is a month shy of 10. There is a lot of "water under the bridge" for me, but in some ways it seems like I just blinked and here I am. I hold to the hand of my husband of nearly 6 years and try not to cry as Micah is baptized.
The preacher who baptizes Micah tonight was visiting our church meeting the night I was baptized. He was a mere boy of 12 then. We did not know each other in 1973, but his cousin would eventually marry my cousin. He ended up performing the marriage ceremony for Tim and me in 1998. Ironies never cease.
It is funny where life takes us. One minute we are dead in sin and the next minute we are alive again in Christ. Praise God!
One day, our life seems over when we lose a mate or a parent or a job, but in some future increment of time, the good Lord gives us new life and breath with a new circumstance and new people to enrich our experience here on this earth.
One day, we think we are all through having babies, and we are kind of sad that we did not get the mixing of genders that we wanted. And then in a matter of a few short months or years, for some of us, more and unexpected babies come along! I had my three boys; I got my two girls with Tim.
I guess it is indeed true that as long as there is breath, there is life, and as long as there is life, there is hope.
In what seems like the blinking of an eye, it is 2005. Today I am spiritually 32, and my son is 1. I am well down the road of life, and he has just begun. Happy Birthday Micah, Doug, Janet, Tommy, and all the rest! It is a day for reflection, for remembering, and for rejoicing.
I am alive! And I am alive!
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