I write my phone number on my kids’ arms when we go into large crowds at summer festivals, in case we get separated. If you think this makes me sound like a neurotic person with an overactive imagination who watches too many true crime documentaries, you would be correct. I am all of those things.
However, I am also practical, and I’ve endured moments of panic after looking up and briefly not being able to locate a child who has wandered off or lagged behind. The phone number, scrawled across their sunscreen-streaked skin, is a safeguard, however insignificant. It’s something they can hold up to show an adult, something they can point to and say, “This is where I need to be. Help me get here.”
When I reflect on my own life, it occurs to me that I was born lost. We all were. It was only in Eden that a human being ever knew what it was to be at home. In Eden, I would imagine, the feeling of safety was so natural that it was only noticed after it was gone. But original sin came like a noisy crowd to bear us away from the place we needed to be, and since that time, our human lives have played out against a backdrop of insecurity and unfamiliarity. We are cold and alone and confused. And God, our heartbroken parent, never stops seeking us, never stops calling our names.
Baptism, the etching of God’s law onto our heart and soul, is not a phone number written on our arms. It’s something far better — it’s a homing signal, planted deep within. And it will lead us back to where we need to be.
“But this is the covenant that I will make with the house of Israel after those days, says the LORD. I will place my law within them and write it upon their hearts; I will be their God, and they shall be my people.” — Jeremiah 31:33