Remembering my baptism.

I was reading John H's not-so-recent post on Confessing Evangelical about baptism and it got me thinking about my own baptism. I've actually been baptized twice, once as a toddler by the decision of my parents, and once as an adult after rejoining the Church. One of those I believe with all certainty was my baptism, the other was an act of disbelief. Perhaps it was the improper teaching of the leaders of the church group I was involved with at the time that lead me to my disbelief.

The first time is actually kind of funny, my mom had gotten remarried to a man (who had adopted me and became my dad) who was Catholic, so we all had to join the Catholic church. I was four and the Catholic church wouldn't let me be baptized "Devona Lynn" because there are no Saint Devonas. So they baptized me "Barbara," my mother's name, while I yelled and screamed, "My name's not Barbara, it's Devona!!!" Thank goodness it was a family baptism only, and it wasn't in front of the whole congregation, I'd have felt bad for my mom and dad. The second one was on the beach in Florida (which is really romantic when you're from Ohio) during the sunset of a full moon. It's funny now that the one I place all value in is the one where they didn't even use my own name, and not the one that would make a wonderful story to tell later on.

Another reason I'm reflecting on the subject is because we're going to be baptizing our new baby in about two months. I want to get it done as soon as we can after the birth, and I look forward to this more than almost anything. We're also deciding not to have Baby circumcised if Baby is a boy. We have a new circumcision in baptism, why do we still need to mutilate our son when the sheding of blood is no longer required from us? Jesus spilled His blood, and we no longer have to.

These are all just my thoughts, and they're really not even that deep. I just thought I'd share.