the power of God

He is nine years old. After only a few minutes in the water, his white chin was trembling. His freckled face was pale and peaked, and I wondered whether he might faint or get sick. Yes, the water was warm. Yes, his pastor stood protectively beside him, bible in hand. Yes, his mother hovered at the edge of the platform with a blue bath towel in her arms, ready to enfold him when he emerged from the water. But when I saw him shivering and chattering, I wanted to rescue him.
"Hey," I interjected in my imagination. "What do you think you are doing, letting this little boy stand up to his neck in a dark, watery tank of tepid water?" A small crowd had gathered at the chancel rail. The pastor intoned scripture that spoke of obedience and the wages of sin. An attentive and fervent young face tilted upward, drinking in each verse.
My motherly instinct was swept aside by the light in his eyes. When invited, he shared his convictions simply yet clearly. Words such as savior, sins, repentance, and follow Him all the days of my life reached over the pulpit stage and into the ears of anyone lingering in the back pew. The quavering voice grew stronger as he talked.
"Josiah, I baptize you in the name of the Lord Jesus Christ."
And the tears came over me, as they most always do. Later, after I embraced this dear young man and felt the cool damp of his red hair on my shoulder, I held him at arm's length to look him in the eye.
"Josiah, someday when you are in a far off land, can I come to visit you?" He nodded knowingly, wisely, and innocently.
To see the Cross reflected on a person's life is a wondrous thing.

"For the word of the cross is to those who are perishing foolishness, but to us who are being saved it is the power of God." ( 1 Corinthians 1:18)