When
I was a boy, local churches held revival meetings in midwinter.
Always there were converts. Always the Baptist and Christian
converts were baptized as soon as the meetings closed.
There
were no indoor baptisteries in those days. To administer the
ordinance of baptism, it was necessary to take the candidates to a
creek, river or pond. Usually, large sections of ice were removed
in order that minister and convert might get into the water.
As
a rule, women would be dressed in white, while the men went forth
in their shirt sleeves. As minister and convert entered the icy
water, the crowd on the bank would being to sing:
Happy
day, happy day,
When
Jesus washed my sins away!
He
taught me how to watch and pray,
And
live rejoicing every day.
Happy
day, happy day,
When
Jesus washed my sins away.
The
wonder always was that neither minister nor candidate shrank from
the ordeal. On the contrary, they entered the frigid water as
blithely and as joyously as if midsummer conditions prevailed.
Singing would cease as the convert was being immersed, following
which it would break out at an even more fervent pitch. The
minister led the next candidate into the water while eager hands
helped the dripping one out to the bank, where a blanket was
thrown about the shoulders and a place made in the waiting wagon
or buggy that was to take them back home. So far as I can recall,
no ill effects ever followed those midwinter immersions in ice
cold water.
As
a preliminary to administration of the ordinance the preacher
always went out into the river with a long cane or staff, testing
the depth at each step to make sure that nobody would be taken
beyond the safety zone.
Methodists
and Presbyterians baptized by sprinkling instead of immersion, and
their converts went through life total stranger to the heroism
incident to a baptism in the river during zero or near zero
weather. Occasionally, a Methodist convert would ask to be
immersed and the Methodist pastor would comply with the request. I
recall a case of this sort when Rev. M. L. Bibb was pastor of the
Baptist Church at Paris. The Baptists had a baptistery in their
church at that time. The Methodist minister asked for use of it,
only to get this reply:
“We
are not taking in washing.”
The
Methodist minister and convert had no other recourse but to go to
the river.
Source:
When I Was a Boy by Jack Blanton |