Falling Back Into the Waters: My Journey to Re-Baptism

I have noticed that a lot of young people in my age bracket (late 20s – early 30s)  have been wrestling with their faith. I am someone who, after growing up under a legalistic parent, has come to peace with wrestling with God over what I believe and how to practice it. While I plan never to go down the destructive route of deconstructionism, which seems to me to be a matter of poor heart positioning, I can understand the wrestling that happens with rituals and sacraments we place in the church. 

In response to this, there are many expressions of my faith I am navigating as I have become a better informed and intentioned adult. One of those responses I acted on last fall, after the topic had been weighing on my heart for nearly a year. In fall of 2021, our previous church’s youth pastor had talked with our teens about baptism and shared that he had made the decision to be rebaptized when he was older and better comprehending of the decision that he made. I, too, have come to a great appreciation for what the act of baptism truly means in my adult years, and, as a result, wanted to be re-baptized myself, so I could show to the world the glory of God and the growth which comes with walking with Him. 

As a result, this was something that I prayerfully considered over the 2022 year, and ultimately made the decision to reapproach the baptismal waters with a transformed heart. 

The First Baptism

Growing up in a “baptist” (read: northern baptist AKA pretty non denominational) Protestant church, I was sadly divorced from the rich education of the sacraments which – yes– have been romanticized and idolized by Latin churches. However, the Protestant church are no better jus because they teach these rituals poorly, making them into rote or expected actions that need to take place in the church. This, in turn, creates a feeding ground for modern Pharisees to subject the naive around them to making a decision because it would be ‘the right thing to do’ instead of the holy thing to do. 

This was how I was led to baptism the first time. As mentioned previously, Iwas  raised by a very legalistic mother. I remember being scolded for being bad when I was little (and my bad was nothing like I see children do today) and being shamed because “I went to AWANA and I learned all these bible verses!” (A note should be made here that, while the bible memorization club is somewhat beneficial to me now, it was not something I elected to do on my own or wanted to be involved in when I was older). There was shame for struggling with depression, there was shame for not wanting to go to bible school (in which I am very glad I went to bible believing schools for a myriad of reasons outside of the ones my mother wanted me to go for). Even after having an eye opening moment of realizing just how real the Lord was with my experience at Word of Life Bible Institute – it brought tears to my mother’s eyes because it was what she wanted me to take away from the year and not because I had grown or discovered something on my own. It’s a whole other level of awkward when someone is crying for this reason. 

In the midst of all this expectation (and jadedness toward God that it brought) was the expectation to be baptized. In all transparency, I originally did make this decision for the right reasons. I did this mostly for my mother, but if I were honest, I did it for an entirely other very teenage, very stupid reason, as well. The church we were attending at the time (since we church hopped every few years when a place go to be too-something for my mom: inclusive, secular, ungodly – basically when people started noticing that something was wrong behind the curtain) was doing a study on baptism one Sunday. The pastor, an old hippie, was one of the most well meaning and well intentioned men that God ever blessed with the ability to preach. I loved his sermons, even in  the struggling teenage years when I wanted to leave the church, because of the authenticity of which he shared the gospel and the bible. We had been attending this church for a few years at this point, and I felt like I was finally settling in to the community. I had been allowed to attend youth group more often (AWANA always took precedence over youth group in our week – ask how that went for my social life, especially as our AWANA group got smaller and smaller the older we became), and I even had a boy in that youth group that I was interested in. He attended my school, too. As the pastor was explaining the importance of baptism and the ability to come and learn more in a class setting if you wanted to make the decision to pursue it, I thought I could easily kill two birds with one stone! I can make my mom happy and maybe, just maybe, I can score that boy’s attention, too. 

I already prefaced that I had made this decision for utterly stupid reasons. 

When I approached my mom later that day about interest in going to the class to learn more, she was over the moon. I don’t quite remember where we stood in our relationship at that moment – if she was pleased with me in that season or whether it was one where I was a constant burden– but I do remember her response. 

It was ecstatic. 

She was so happy that I was going to make such a public statement of faith. This grieves my heart now, as a woman preparing to have her own children in the near future. My mom had no real understanding of where my heart was. She did not sit down with me and have long conversations where I could wrestle through theology with her. She was quick to judge people and say that they were not living a life worthy of the gospel, as if any of us could be worthy of the gospel, and could be a major gossip at home, constantly bad mouthing the leadership and the other women in church. There was also a very rigid way of learning about God in our household, and it was very much a rewards system. If you do good and you obey God, then you are going to have good things rein down on you. However, if you are bad, then you are going to reap bitterness and hardship. 

But I was naive with a mother that was hard to please. I so desperately wanted someone to notice me and to say I was doing well enough. One thing I mourn: I have never had an older lady come alongside me and mentor me. I realize that my mother probably chased a lot of them away as they were beginning to try, but I think I would have grown more in my faith and not had a season of walking away had just one lady saw me and stuck through with me. When I approached my mom about baptism, I now believe that she saw it as a way to try to make it to the “in crowd” with the new youth pastor. She hurried contacted the head pastor and we were set up for several weeks to talk over the importance of baptism. 

Now, I cannot blame the pastor for allowing me to go through with the decision even though my heart was not in the right place. I was a good AWANA goer and could spit out the right church answer. I was an anxious people pleaser and a hardworking student (though my mother would say I was trouble and drama in both of these areas), and I wanted to be chosen to be baptized. I showed up each and every week to the pastor’s office— with my mom in tow. 

I know it would not have been good to meet with the pastor in a closed off location one on one. But I believe that when my children make the decision, I want them to meet with the pastor and with a third party they respect (unless the Lord blesses me with children who can confide in me honesty– I pray I can win their trust in this). There were a couple times I remember having reservations about going through with this, but I was certainly not going to say anything in front of my mother, who clapped her hands and praised me for being a good Christian. Before I knew it, I was finishing up the several weeks study on baptism and arranging a date to have it done. 

Of course, I was the good little girl and I asked for the youth pastor to baptize me– even though I had no real relationship with him and he had not gone through the classes with me. Before I knew it, I was standing before the congregation reciting the words I had seen others say, and I was being baptized. I was so excited because I thought for sure that this would fix so many things. 

Like what usually happens when you take something that God has called holy and participate for the wrong reasons, you have consequences. I think the Lord took mercy on my naivety and my desire to do what I thought my parent would want, and spared me from a worse consequence I would have deserved. 

The Journey to the Desert

We did not stay at that church (which, ironically, if I had, I would have met my husband less than a decade later had I stayed). My mom did not get into the “ in crowd” with the pastor – in part because she was far older than them, as well as being a hard to please and cynical woman. The boy who I wanted to see my get baptized so he knew I was a good Christian ended up making it very clear that he didn’t want to have much to do with me because I was a bad witness for Christ. And I entered a really dark place of searching for God in the darkness. 

I had gone about baptism for all the wrong reasons. And because baptism is merely a picture, there is no salvation or healing which comes through it, I had been disappointed. That disappointment was on me and not on God. 

After a season of wandering, I was led away from my home and its inward destructive view of God to Word of Life Bible Institute, which outwardly had an even more destructive view of God– but where I actually had some of the sweetest provisions and examples of God internal despite it’s external legalism. I went on to Liberty University where people demonstrated to me raw and real relationships with Him. And I began to fall in love with a God of grace and mercy in ways I never had been able to before. 

I went from casually wanting to do the Jesus thing (I did not attend a church regularly while at Liberty and struggled off and on with an addiction and depression which worsened this walk), but as I sought freedom in my early 20s and began to figure the Jesus thing out on my own, I found a real relationship with Him. A new level of gratitude.

Which is where I was when the future youth pastor talked about baptism back at the same church where I was now serving in the youth group, over a decade later. I remember regretting the first time I was baptized because I knew that my heart wasn’t right with God then. It was focused on pleasing people and not on the glory that God gets through the action. 

So I began to pray. And share the burden with my husband. We had walked through some trials in our new marriage, within and without, but I knew in my heart I wanted him to baptize me because he was the head of my household. I wanted him to lead me in that. The problem was we were at the church where I had been baptized previously; I felt awkward for saying “whoops, was kinda unintentionally fooling everyone that first time!”, and I knew the church held man made church positions too tightly to let my husband baptize me. I had suggested pursuing the matter with the pastor who shepherded my husband for more than half his life back in New Jersey, but that opportunity never arose. 

The Journey Back to the Water

When we arrived here in Florida, we found a church we began attending within a few months. It wasn’t long after we started going that we met with the pastor and shared our stories with him. A few weeks after this, the pastor talked about having people come up to be baptized and he would be honored to accommodate that person’s decision to be baptized. I felt the Holy Spirit tell my soul that this was time. 

Right before Thanksgiving in 2023, I was rebaptized at a church local to us. I was able to share my testimony as to why I was seeking rebaptism and the work the Lord had done in my life to lead me there. 

It was the exact opposite of my first baptism. I was able to share my testimony in a way I was not able to or expected the first time I went through it. I had no friends or family to share the moment with me.. It was not a pastor who baptized me, but it was my husband. 

And it was exactly what I needed to do. To go forward and proclaim “Look how faithful the Lord has been! Look how good He has been to me! I want to shout that to the world!”. 

I am glad I had the patience to wait on the Lord, because His timing is always perfect. And now I want to share this story as a word of encouragement– if the Lord is laying on your heart that you want to seek rebaptism because your heart posture is correct with Him now vs. when you did it (probably as a much younger child, maybe even in a religiously abusive household), I encourage you to pray and to seek counsel of wise godly people. This may be your pastor, it may be a mentor. 

Remember, baptism does not save you (sorry everyone that got sprinkled as a non-consenting baby – you’d be in a good category to pursue this as a sentient adult!), but it is a picture of the beautiful relationship of being made alive in Christ, being a new creature. 

Do not let the fear of tradition or the fear of feeling foolish stop you. And pray over all of it. 

Have you reconsidered rebaptism? Have you been rebaptized yourself? Leave some thoughts in the comments!