Have you ever been a part of a Bible study group?

I have and I am. Actually, I’m a part of two such groups. One on Sunday mornings and one on Thursdays. Both are tremendous classes and both have been studying the book of Mark.

The class that meets on Thursday is attended by men who are seniors. I am probably one of the youngest in attendance and I am 71. The eldest is in his early 90s.

Now you would probably think that having finished up one study of Mark that it would be boring to sit through another one, but it isn’t. Two different teachers bring two totally different perspectives and thought processes.

And for those of you who know me you must realize by now that my mind tends to go in different directions. It sorta wanders, if you know what I mean.

I may be in attendance and listening to everything, but like a sentence being diagrammed there’s a part of me jutting off somewhere else. Usually something has been said that reminds of something from the past.

Some of the passages we studied today were:

* Mark 1:9 Not long afterwards Jesus came from Nazareth in the province of Galilee, and was baptized by John in the Jordan.
* Mark 1:10 As soon as Jesus came up out of the water, he saw heaven opening and the Spirit coming down on him like a dove.
* Mark 1:11 And a voice came from heaven, “You are my own dear Son. I am pleased with you.”

I love the way that sage group of men dissect the verses line by line and word by word. The way they do it and the way they think amazes me. Our discussions can become lively.

I was sitting there and thinking in a parallel universe:

My mother’s mother (We called her Momma Foster) was saved sometime around the turn of the twentieth century. In those days there weren’t any baptisteries.

Being a good Baptist immersion was a must. There couldn’t be an indoor sprinkling like some of my Methodist ancestors received. You had to get wet. You had to go under.

Back then they did it just like John the Baptist did. Only Winston County was nothing like Galilee. It didn’t have a Jordan River. We had creeks and ponds.

On a given Sunday all those who had seen the error of their ways, repented and been saved would gather at the pond On the edge of town and the preacher would baptize them. There was always a crowd observing from the bank.

One by one they would wade out to the preacher and receive the sacrament of baptism.

Momma Foster’s turn came and she made her way out to the preacher. All of her family and friends were among the crowd on the bank waiting to witness the solemn occasion.

I can visualize that moment now.

The preacher asks, “Alice, have you accepted Jesus Christ into your heart and received him as your Lord and Savior?”

She acknowledges him in the affirmative.

Normally at this point he would lean her back into the water until she was submerged, then lift her up while saying, “You are buried with him in baptism and raised to walk in newness of life.”

Normally.

He leaned her back into the water and just as this was taking place a large water snake arose from the depths of the pond and slithered over her.

If you’ll remember back to Mark 1 verse 10 it says that as Jesus rose from the water he saw the heavens opening up and the spirit of the Lord coming down upon him like a dove.

I don’t think anything like that happened when Momma Foster came up out of the water. When she told this to me as a child her story ended with the fact that a snake swam over her. That was probably all a small child needed to know. Besides, I was a Methodist.

However, I can use my imagination as to what happened next.

I’m guessing that preacher wasn’t of the snake handling congregation. And I imagine if he was anything like me, Momma Foster was set free to rise up out of that pond the best way she could.

I’m also guessing when she surfaced it wasn’t the sky that was parting. It would have been the water parting until she could have gotten a good toe-hold.

Jesus and Peter wouldn’t have had a monopoly on that walking on water thing. She would have not only joined them, but left them behind in a cloud of dust. Or mist.

Hitherto, there may have been a voice heard that day. I’m not certain what it would have said, but I can guarantee you it wasn’t anything about someone being well pleased.

Whoever was next in line to be baptized probably had to wait a while. I’m sure the preacher had to work up his nerve before getting back in the water. Plus, it may have taken a while for the water to clear up.

I can’t say for sure if Momma Foster was a full fledged Baptist after the episode at the pond interrupted her baptism but no one dared to mention it.

Bless her heart.

Next week John is imprisoned. I don’t remember anyone in my family going to jail. So maybe my mind won’t wander.

Much.

_______________
Rick Algood
August 3, 2023