Re-baptism as an adult brings new meaning to the ritual

Photo: Doreen Zyderveld-Hagel

Columnist Doreen Zyderveld-Hagel was baptized in the river of her childhood hometown in Alberta.

I nervously stepped into the pond, and the unstable sandy ground shifted under my feet as I walked.

I felt like I was going down, down, down.

“Oh no, I worried. This is more than I bargained for. The property owner got in and out OK and so will the rest of us,” I reminded myself. “Besides, you’re here on a mission.”

With that, I carried on.

Even though we muddied the water, the top layer was quite clear. Tiny fish approached curiously to examine these strange humans in their habitat. The swampy scent assailed my nostrils, taking me back to my childhood spent in the nearby wetlands, or slough, as we called it. That smelly place was my playground with my young friends. We paddled about on makeshift leaky rafts and caught frogs in the bulrush.

To think, decades later, I’d be in that same general area, being baptized in the Rosebud River.

It wasn’t easy to get to this waterhole. First, the vehicles ahead kicked up a gigantic dust cloud on the gravel road. Trailing the pastor’s vehicle, we found ourselves in a rough, thistle-strewn pasture; cow paddies littered the ground like landmines. This was a stark reminder of our loss of the Garden of Eden.

Under Alberta’s clear blue skies, the warm sun shone down on us as we basked in the pleasant 30 C temperature.

Praying aloud with his hand raised, Pastor Rod created a surreal atmosphere.

“I baptize you in the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit,” he said and he and his assistant tilted me backward into the depths, then immediately pulled me back up. The bright sun shone above as I submerged, which struck me as odd because my eyes were closed and a cloth covered my face to prevent me from breathing in the untreated water.

Afterwards, we received help to ascend the steep, slippery bank following my husband’s baptism. The bottoms of my feet were covered in grass that got stuck in my sandals.

Our Christian family warmly welcomed Len and I and gifted us a colourful bouquet and a book of daily meditations.

“Baptism means death with Christ, and those who are dead to sin don’t go on living in it. And that means ‘all of us.’ That is, all Christians,” John Piper wrote on United with Christ in death and life, Part 2.

Historically, a religious leader immersed many converts in a large body of water during this ceremony. It was more than just a light sprinkling of water on the forehead, as practiced in some churches, which some claim is brainwashing, by splashing water on the frontal lobe area.

Age in baptism isn’t the only factor —maturity is critical. Since a free and informed decision is impossible for infants, dedication is a more suitable alternative to baptism for babies. Len and I reaffirmed our commitment by being re-baptized, mirroring the disciples’ actions after they gained new insights.

While many scriptural reasons support this (a topic beyond this discussion), baptism also has a darker, occult side. In satanic rituals, there are agents that perform a counterfeit baptism, Pastor Minervino Labrador Jr. stated.

He witnessed it as a former drug trafficker. The participants of the clandestine ceremony vow allegiance to spirit protectors, ensuring immunity from arrest and treachery. Although Labrador refused to partake, a demonic entity still plagued him. He turned to his religious parents for help, turned his life around and became a pastor.

Ironically, the dark side uses fragrances and floral water for their evil ritual to make the underworld seem glamorous. They come out of the water unclean. Whereas, many Christians, especially in historic times, used lakes, ponds and rivers in not-so-clean water, but they emerged reborn and spotless. It may seem counter-intuitive and downright bizarre.

It was interesting timing, coinciding with my sobriety birthdate of Sept. 7, 1993, to come full circle being baptized again on the same day 31 years later in my hometown. That was no coincidence. My past wild lifestyle is far behind me and I’m grateful I’m not who I used to be.

That being said, you can sober up a drunken horse thief but they’re still a horse thief. A 12-step program and returning to church helped me get on a better path. Life is full of choices, and we can change our minds for better or for worse.

Whether we like it or not, there are good and evil forces vying for our allegiance.

In not choosing, we still make our choice.

This article is written by or on behalf of an outsourced columnist and does not necessarily reflect the views of Castanet.