Home » Academics » Prof's Office » Office Hours

Office Hours: Tired to the Bone, Part 2 of 2

After talking with me for a half hour about how burned out he was trying to evangelize all of his friends, Mark had casually dropped a bombshell. The explosion was invisible and silent. I don't think he noticed it.

But I had a class to teach.

"Maybe," I said, "you should come back tomorrow."

Mark looked at me closely. "Are you saying you think it matters?"

"You mean that you've never been baptized?"

"Uh huh. It's only a ritual, isn't it?"

I grinned wryly. "It matters."

"No kidding."

"No kidding."

"Why?"

"Mark" — I took a breath — "it puts everything else that you've said in a different light."

He seemed puzzled. "I want to know why you say that. Could I come back and talk with you about it?"

"That's what I was suggesting."

"Oh, right. But I can't tomorrow. Could you make room this afternoon?"

I had papers to grade, but I supposed I could take them home. "OK. I'll see you at two. Now scram."

Mark was back at 2 p.m. on the dot. I offered him coffee, but he already had something from the vending machine and he declined. I wasn't sure where to begin, but Mark solved that problem for me.

"Prof," he said, "if you don't mind, would you start by explaining that thing you said about how my not being baptized puts everything I said in a different light?"

"I can do that," I said. "Tell me something. What do you think it means to be a Christian?"

"To believe all the Christian things," he said. "Aren't those things what we're always talking about?"

"Believing those things is essential," I answered, "but the Christian life isn't just something in the head. What else do you think it is?"

"Like you said — a kind of life."

"What kind of life?"

"Well, naturally, you have to do those things that you believe. You have to obey the Commandments."

"That's essential too," I told him, "and I want to come back to that. But so far your description of Christian life sounds a little wooden. You believe some things and you obey some Commandments. All true. But where is the life in that life?"

He hesitated. "Sarah's always talking about having a 'personal relationship with Jesus.' I've always thought it sounded kind of gooey."

"Far be it from me to get you mixed up in anything gooey."

He grinned.

"And I admit," I continued, "that I've got my own problems with that way of speaking. In a certain sense anyone might have a personal relationship with Jesus — not just Christians. For an angry atheist, it may be a relationship of personal enmity. For an agnostic, a relationship of personal skepticism. For a seeker, a relationship of personal longing. Do you follow me? All of these relationships are personal, just because we are persons, not things — whos, not whats."

Mark said, "I see that."

"On the other hand," I answered, "doesn't Sarah have a point too? If everyone has some sort of personal relationship with Jesus — you concede that? — then we can ask what kind the Christian has."

"Yes, that makes sense."

"So what kind does the Christian have?"

"A personal relationship of — well — of belief and obedience."

"More. Much more."

"Then what?"

"Of communion. Shared life. The New Testament word is koinonia."

Mark looked a little blank. "What do you mean, 'shared life'?"

"I mean that Christ pours His own life into us, and we enjoy that outpoured grace together."

He shook his head. Still blank. "I'm not sure what you mean."

I looked at him with compassion. "Of course you don't, Mark. I'm sorry that in all the years I've known you I never realized it before. But this is why you're so burned out."

"Why?"

"Because you've exhausted yourself trying to live the Christian life without the benefits of Christ's own life."

"Then how would I get those — benefits?"

"Let's think of it this way. A moment ago we were talking about relationships. When the New Testament is talking about the Christian life, it compares it with certain ordinary human relationships. What kinds of relationships?"

"Lots of different relationships."

"Like what?"

"Well," he said, "it calls us sons, with God as our Father. It also calls us heirs — I guess that goes with being sons. And it calls us brothers. In some places it calls Christ the groom and the whole Church, all of us together, the bride. And so on."

"Can you see a common thread in all of those relationships?"

He thought for a moment. "They're all family relationships."

"So perhaps the way we get those benefits is that we get into that family," I responded.

"How are you saying we get into that family?"

"You tell me. How do we get into ordinary earthly families?"

"We're born into them."

"Just so. We have to be born into this one too."

"You mean 'born again.'Like where Jesus is talking to Nicodemus."¹

"Right."

"I guess this is where you're going to say I need to be baptized."

"Right again."

"But Professor T, isn't second birth figurative? Didn't Jesus criticize Nicodemus for being too literal?"

"Second birth is a real event, but Nicodemus was too literal, yes. He knew that in order to be born into his human family, he had to come out of his mother's womb. So he imagined that to be born into the family of God, he would have to repeat the same physical process."

"That's what I meant to say. Actually second birth isn't a physical process at all, but a spiritual one."

"It's spiritual, but it's physical too. Jesus told Nicodemus, "unless one is born of water and the Spirit, he cannot enter the kingdom of God."²

"I don't know. It all sounds like magic to me. Why do I have to go through a ritual involving water? You might as well say that I have to let someone wave a wand over me and say 'abracadabra.' It seems so arbitrary."

"Why — because it's physical? Physical things happen in ordinary birth too. Do you call it arbitrary or magical to say that the baby has to break through the waters of the amniotic sac to experience ordinary birth?"

"No."

"Then why should you call it arbitrary or magical to say that a believer has to pass through the waters of baptism to experience spiritual birth?"

"Nothing's wrong with it. It just seems unnecessary. Professor T, I think I see the problem here. We just have a denominational difference. See, my pastor teaches that baptism is just a symbol. You seem to be saying that it's something more."

I laughed. "You're not going to get me that way, Mark. It's true that different groups of Christians hold different views about exactly what is happening in baptism, and I'm telling you what I believe — I don't have personal authority to set doctrine! But we don't need to get into those differences."

"Why not?"

"Because we're not discussing whether baptism is a symbol or more than a symbol, whether it is an 'ordinance' or a 'sacrament,' or anything of that sort. We're discussing whether it is necessary. On that point, all of the Christian traditions worth mentioning are in total agreement. If you don't believe me, ask your pastor. 'Must I be baptized?' I'm sure he'll tell you 'Yes, Mark, of course.'"

Mark paused. "I suppose he would. He calls baptism an 'ordinance,' not a 'sacrament.' But that still means you have to do it."

"Well, then?"

"If it is just a symbol — as my denomination teaches — then I just can't see why I do have to do it."

"Speaking from your own point of view: Do you have to? Christ and the Apostles commanded and expected it.Weren't you saying something earlier about obedience?"³

"Yes. I see that now. But my mind wants something more. I want to know why."

"Of course it does. But you know, Mark, knowing and doing aren't always connected in the same way."

"What do you mean? You've lost me."

"There are some things you can know about only from the outside. Drug addiction is one; suicide is another. Nobody would say that you have to be a drug addict in order to become wise about drugs; nobody would say that you have to commit suicide in order to find out whether it is a good idea. In fact, in these cases experience is the one thing that keeps you from being able to choose wisely about them. Are you with me so far?"

"Yes, but you wouldn't say that all things are like that, would you?"

"No, of course not. Just as there are some things you can know about only from the outside, there are other things you can know about only from the inside. Marriage and family are like that. You can know a little bit from the outside, and that's important, but the most important things about it can be learned only from the inside, from experience. That's true of all forms of communion. And it's true of our communion with Christ."

"So what are you saying? That if I want to know what difference it makes to come in, I have to come in?"

"Yes, and the normal way to do that is to be baptized."⁴

Mark sighed raggedly. "All these years I've believed in Jesus Christ, and you know that I've tried to obey Him."

"I'm sure God honored that," I answered, "and I'm sure you experienced some grace. But it hasn't been enough, has it?"

"No. It's like I was telling you. I'm exhausted. For so long, I've felt like I was missing something. Prof —"

"Yes?"

"If I get baptized, will things change all at once?"

C O F F E E  S H O P

---

What reasons do you have for thinking baptism is important to the Christian life?

Join the discussion!

"No. Not all at once. We have to grow up in the household of God, just like in any family. But we have His fatherly help."

"All this time I've been like a kid looking in through the window, and I didn't even know it."

I smiled. "It's time to come into the house."