It will surprise only a few that I prefer the mountains to the beach.
But on a Saturday afternoon this past January, I felt at home on a sun-blasted beach on Cuba’s north shore.
We had known several weeks before visiting our sister church in Holguin, Cuba, that our presence would enable Kerygma Baptist Church to have a day at the beach. The drive from Holguin to the shore took about 90 minutes, and the bus maneuvered through light showers and increasingly bright sunshine.
When we arrived at the coast, the sky was clear, and the breeze was intoxicating. Warm beyond measure, we made our way to a spot on the beach where we would have a baptism for six candidates.
As we kicked off our socks and shoes at the water’s edge, Pastor Ernesto told me he wanted my help with the baptism. I had been told to expect this, but I wasn’t sure what was expected of me. Perhaps a prayer, I mused.
Imagine my surprise, then, when Ernesto told me that the two of us would take turns saying the ancient, Trinitarian words of baptism and would share in the duties of immersing the candidates.
It would be a high honor to assist with the baptism, saying, “In obedience to our Lord and Savior Jesus, I baptize you my brother in the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Ghost,” and to help dip the candidate into the water. I was not the candidate’s pastor. I did not even know the candidates’ names. It didn’t matter. Ernesto wanted our two churches to know that even though our countries were not friends, our kinship in Jesus Christ transformed the crystal-clear water into the waters of baptism.
“Esta frio,” Ernesto said as he made our way into the water and away from the congregation. I chuckled and said, “Esta caliente!” As one familiar with our mountain rivers and streams, the water felt like bathwater. Apparently, it was a bit too nippy for my Cuban friend.
Looking north out to sea, I marveled at how we were due south of the Cape Fear River inlet and Wilmington. For most of my life, Cuba felt like a world away. But at that moment, with the water as clear as a mountain spring, I felt a connection to our friends in Cuba that only the Holy Spirit could inaugurate.
We baptized our friends and smiled when the congregation sang and applauded on the shore. The pulse of the tide and the shifting sand beneath my feet made me feel right at home with our brothers and sisters in Christ.
We are baptized because of community and within community. When we enter the waters of baptism—whether at Deep Creek, in our baptistery, or on a beach in Cuba—the water swarms with a host of people who have witnessed to us. When immersed beneath the waves, love flanks us on either side. When we come out of the water to breathe fresh air, we do so to hear our family singing, laughing, and celebrating alongside us.
Yes, I suspect you would have been a beach person at that moment, too. Though, the baptism at the beach was quite the mountaintop experience.
