...they had refused John's baptism.

Oh boy. Behind again. I work out. All the time. At the beginning of every year, there is a sudden influx of people who are trying to "get in shape." They last about three months, and then they start to tail off around March and April. Those of us who work out routinely suffer patiently through the excesses of the New Year's Resolutioners who come and over-exercise for January and February, and then start to vanish in March. We know their end is near...

But, as a someone who is normally a routine-keeper, I am finding myself chagrined for being one of "those people" if not physically, then spiritually. That is, I wonder if I am tailing off of my discipline to stick with the program and continue to write as a way of processing the words of God, as another way of learning it, a more active way. I did well in January and February, and now find myself, similar to "those people," tailing off in March and April.

So, I am behind a couple of days. I have decided to write something personal, in the NT reading for 3/26, Luke 7:30.

"But the Pharisees and experts in religious law had rejected God's plan for them, for they had refused John's baptism."

The majority of my writing has dealt with a discourse on legalism versus deconstructionism. It has been repetitive, not because I can't go much deeper than the main points of faith, but because extension into sub-themes of deconstructionism and literary theory defeats the point of shying away from legalism. That is, an excess of discourse in non-legalistic theory becomes its own brand of intellectual religion and destroys the validity of the arguments.

If I spent chapters and days deconstructing the text, or writing about Derrida's principle arguments, I would be wordsmithing, and missing the very simple tension that is directly under the surface of the text of the Bible. By prattling on about philosophical theory, I would undo my points against legalism by using a legalistic pattern of deconstruction.

So, I am torn by the process of staying shallow, but appearing repetitive. What I then must face is therefore what speaks most emotionally to me in the text, as a way of understanding it by non-legalistic approaches.

So, since I am facing baptism, a sacrament I have so far steadfastly refused for my own intellectual reasons, I feel emotionally confused by it. What does it mean when a person refuses baptism? Is it pride? That's a sin. Is it fear? Paul writes that perfect love casts out fear, and I believe him. Is it rationalization? Well, probably, but this is the problem. Does the rationalization become the same rationalization that the Pharisees used to reject baptism? And have I been nothing more that that which I desire not to be, a legalistic Pharisee, refusing baptism? Am I the rich man for whom it is harder to get into heaven than a camel getting through the eye of a needle because I cannot shed myself of my "riches," in this case, the intellect that causes me to rationalize myself away from baptism.

John taught that baptism was a change of heart, that the change was of the heart, and that our salvation was not in our lineage (a legalistic point of view) but in our attitude and relationship with God and each other. For so long, I have chosen not to seek baptism, and in the reading from 3/26, I see that I have *great* company in my decisions, the Pharisees!

But I have always shied away from it because doing it seemed so legalistic! Churches tell you that you must do it, or you are not a true Christian. Now who is Phariseeical? If Jesus is to break the stranglehold of legalism, how can legalist sacrament honor His desire?

This is a very personal topic for me as I get ready to face the waters. I have discussed this with many people, and doubtless will continue to discuss it. All I can say is that some of the best answers to this question are indirect, in Luke 6:43. Jesus touches upon the way a person or a tree is known, by the fruit it produces. Baptism, non-baptism... Does that matter as much as, do I do "good?" Is being a "Christian" making me a better person than I was before. I am much happier, but am I "good?" Do I have love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, gentleness, faithfulness, and self-control? Or, better yet, do people that I come into contact with gain any of these from knowing me in my relationship with Christ?

I knew a wonderful woman once, who inspired me spiritually and still does. I hope some day I could have that effect on someone else, someone who was as in need as I was. I have been saved by so many people, in their relationship with Christ. If baptism can give me that chance to pass that on to another, then it is worth any temporal discomfiture that may have, unconsciously, been blocking me.