(Editor's note: The originally published version of this story omitted the name of one of the two writers, John Hall, from its byline.)
DENTON, Texas (ABP) — Some Baptist churches are going back to the future — and making a statement to their communities in the process — by holding outdoor baptismal services resembling the ones Baptists held for hundreds of years before indoor baptisteries became standard.
One of the outdoor baptismal services of Christ Community Church in Denton, Texas. (Photo courtesy Ross Appleton)
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Christ Community Church in Denton, Texas, for instance, baptizes people in a large metal trough on the city square. Conducting the baptism outside the church building encourages onlookers to think about what is taking place, Pastor Ross Appleton said.
“It’s just kind of become passé to be a Christian,” he said. “It’s a cultural thing. Because it’s a cultural thing, there’s no expectation of being a public Christian. What we’re trying to say is: ‘Jesus is real. Jesus is real in Denton.’ People in Denton need to see that.”
In a public arena, baptism becomes a visual witness to the community. Christ Community Church chose the town square because it is across the street from where the congregation meets, but also to reinforce its mission of being a church with a heart for the city.
“This is not simply a coming-of-age ceremony, which I think in many church situations that’s how it’s treated,” Appleton said. “This is saying, ‘I’m a new creation, and I’m telling the world about it.’ And I think that’s really needed in our culture.”
Baptism provides a visual picture of people committing to a relationship with Christ, he added. By seeing the practice, people better understand what it means to leave an old life behind and move forward in a new life with Christ.
A public witness
New Generations Fellowship in New Braunfels, Texas, baptizes people twice a year in the Guadalupe River as tourists and locals float by in the popular inner-tubing stream. The baptisms provide events through which others hear the gospel.
On baptism Sundays, the church cancels its typical service and holds a gathering along the river with free food and children’s activities. Members are encouraged to invite their friends and neighbors who are not connected to a church.
“The main reason is people like the special feeling of being baptized in a river,” Pastor Joe Tostado said.
“Also, it just gives us the opportunity and gives them the opportunity to bring their friends who still don’t feel comfortable enough to come to a church building. They’ll come out for the free food.”
During the last gathering, more than 300 people turned out as the church baptized 26 people. A tuber who was floating by stopped when she saw the church performing the baptism and told Tostado that she recently had made a profession of faith in Christ and wanted to be baptized. After a brief interview with her, the congregation baptized the woman as well.
“God tugged her heart,” he said. “It takes courage to do what God says. She wanted to take that step in obedience and be baptized. And we did it.”
Historic ties
But the trend is not limited to new congregations without buildings or non-traditional churches. The 178-year-old Lime Rock Baptist Church in Lincoln, R.I., has recently returned to its historic tradition of baptizing new converts in a pond near the church building.
“As I prepared for my first baptism in Rhode Island, two events converged to make the outdoor baptisms a reality,” wrote Travis Norvell, who recently left the congregation to become pastor of St. Charles Avenue Baptist Church in New Orleans. “First, members kept complaining about the baptismal [pool] at the church down the road (the water heater did not work anymore and it was kind of grungy),” he said, noting Lime Rock lacked its own indoor baptistery and the congregation had used the sister church’s facilities for baptisms for years.
“Second, I serendipitously discovered old church records which mentioned outdoor baptisms at ‘the pond.’ So I suggested we hold the baptisms outdoors at ‘the pond’ at Lincoln Woods State Park.”
Norvell said state-park officials told him they were welcome to use the pond as long as they were done by 7 a.m. That meant a 6:30 a.m. service — and Norvell said the congregation thought nobody except the baptism candidates and the heartiest faithful would be up at such an early hour.
“We were wrong,” he said. “On the beach that day were some German tourists who had been swimming; some folk in folding chairs drinking coffee, a man in the pond in a wet suit with a metal detector searching for coins, and 15 ducks. Rather than give us some privacy this peculiar bunch turned into nosy spectators. The Germans walked down to the shore, the folk in chairs turned them towards us, the man in the wet suit got within an inch of my feet, and the ducks were sure we were going to give them bread!”
The congregation enjoyed the event so much, Norvell said, that many of them began researching their own family histories — only to discover that their ancestors had also been baptized in the pond.
“Some kept the historical research going and discovered they were descendants of Roger Williams!" he said. "The following year, no one even raised an eyebrow; we were holding the baptisms at Lincoln Woods. My last Sunday at Lime Rock Baptist I baptized two youth and a great friend who recently joined the church. The spectators were not as colorful but the sensation was even more moving.”
That friend Norvell baptized was Bill Austin, who described himself as “a practicing Catholic and a struggling Christian for a number of years” before he became friends with Norvell through jam sessions that the pastor hosted for local musicians.
Curious about what Norvell was like as a preacher and pastor, he began visiting worship services at Lime Rock and became a regular. When Austin found out the church was conducting a baptismal service on Norvell’s last Sunday, he asked to be baptized.
“I wanted to make, if you will, not so much a public proclamation, but one to myself — to kind of reiterate to myself my Christian beliefs, my Christian practice,” he said. “The fact that it was being done outdoors meant all the more to me as a Christian; it seemed like it was sort of going back to the early Christians, John the Baptist.”
Norvell said the ancient baptistery at his new church — St. Charles Avenue’s sanctuary is more than 80 years old — has its own problems.
“Now that I am in New Orleans folk cringe when I mention the possibility of baptizing someone in the Mississippi River, but our baptismal [pool] leaks and the hot water does not work either,” he said. “How about Lake Pontchartrain?”
Opting for no baptistery
Pastor Don Flowers of Providence Baptist Church in Charleston, S.C., baptizes Leah Flood. (Providence Baptist Church photo)
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Providence Baptist Church in Charleston, S.C., was founded in 1995 and moved into its first permanent building in 2000, but the meeting space was built as a multipurpose sanctuary/fellowship hall without a baptistery. So, the church has always held its baptisms under the spreading limbs of a live oak on the banks of the nearby Wando River.
“We were also aware that our facility is on Daniel Island. We are surrounded by water. So the plan to have baptisms in the river just seemed natural,” said Pastor Don Flowers. “It has become some of the most meaningful services we have — to the point that if/when we build a [larger] sanctuary there will be some serious discussion as to whether or not to include a baptistery,” he continued.
If he could cast the deciding vote for a permanent indoor baptistery or not, Flowers said, “I am voting not. There is something very different about doing a baptism in water that is alive. We have had dolphins jumping behind us as we held baptisms; it is a tidal river, so it is moving.”
That, Flowers said, means “that doing a baptism there is a much more sensory/sensual/visceral experience than going into a climate-controlled baptistery inside. I think it is the aliveness of the water that helps the candidate and the officiant understand that this has to do with new life.”
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John Hall is news director for Texas Baptists. Robert Marus is managing editor of Associated Baptist Press.