A cold grave...

*Taken from my journal on 02/01/09 after renewing my baptismal vows in the icy waters of the Jordan River.*

A cold grave. The one thought in my mind as my feet stood upon a stone stair, invisible beneath the dark water. The lower hem of a thin white robe just met the surface of that icy water. The chill went right through my bones and, mid-day though it was, I could see my breath like smoke rising just before me. Shoulder to shoulder with friends I stood shivering… waiting to be buried.

There is a lot of death imagery in the Christian sacraments. In Communion, we partake of the body and blood, broken and poured out for the redemption of mankind. But Communion is, above all, a remembrance. With bread and wine we remember not just the cross, but the Christ… the God-man Himself… Who hung upon it. Jesus said “in remembrance of Me”. In Communion, we remember Him. Not just His dying, but His living. Not just His divinity, but His humanity. And in so doing, we come to a deeper understanding of how costly was that death. For such a heart to stop beating, for the Raiser of the dead to let go a dying breath, for such pure and living blood to spill out on dry dust which He Himself had wrought before the foundations of time…

He was life abundant incarnate… All the life of God in one now-broken body. For such life to just stop… no wonder the heavens were rent, no wonder the world was shaken. Not just a death, but the death of pure life. We remember Christ and there is no doubt about the cost. The death to end all deaths… and so it did.

So now at the water’s edge I stand, the memories of a million wrong-doings flashing through my mind and making me colder than the water ever could. And here also I remember the Life, laid down to save me from deserved death. And light breaks upon me and I remember that I am clothed in righteousness, purity not of my own making, like the brilliant robe I now wear. A deep breath and a sudden plunge… I am laid back into ice cold water – a cold grave, well deserved by my old life. And again, death brings life. Those ugly deeds laid to rest in a watery grave and I am raised to newness of life. A freshly washed white garment and I’m dripping with freedom. Raised to life again with Life Himself, unkillable.

“And You’re raising the dead in me.”