Today was one of the most enjoyable and memorable days I've had in awhile...
There was a baptismal service that was held inside the prison's chapel and three men, one at a time, had been fully immersed in water. Their baptism was a symbol of each man's death, burial and resurrection in Christ. It was also an outward showing that each one had indeed received Jesus Christ as his Savior, and is now a member of the body of Christ.
My chaplain, Carl Stiglich, and the men who are assigned as workers and custodians of the chapel, had to move our full-size baptismal tank from a storage area where it's kept when not in use. They then hooked up a garden-type hose from a utility sink that's in the hallway of the building and extended the hose into the chapel in order to fill the tank. I had to do this when I was the chaplain's assistant and clerk.
And after a time of singing and worship, followed by a sermon from my chaplain, the baptisms were ready to begin. So the three men who were to be baptized each took his turn to step onto a small platform, and then step into the tank where my chaplain would dunk him into the water. The chaplain then baptized each man in the name of the Father, Son, and the Holy Spirit.
Meanwhile, however, those of us who were watching this take place continually broke out into loud and spontaneous applause with lots of cheers and shouts of "Hallelujah!" And each brother who came out of the water had a big smile on his face, too. The room, it seemed to me, was filled with joyful exuberance.
Furthermore, our baptismal service, I might add, was no religious exercise. Nor was it carried out by any kind of superficial tradition. Instead it was a deeply sacred and spiritual event which, I believe, was taken notice of in heaven. And I am grateful to have been a part of it.
In addition, I had my job to do. I was one of the volunteer "mop men." After all, somebody has to clean up the mess, and I like doing things like this. So I and three other prisoners stood alongside the tank with mops in hand and buckets by our sides to gather up the water that spilled over its sides whenever one of the men got into it.
Then, after the service was over and most of the men left, I was allowed to stay behind with a handful of the chapel's workers to empty and clean the tank. It was a lot of work, but it was fun. We laughed and talked among ourselves. It was a very special day.
D.B.
P.S. Also on a good note, after yesterday's miraculous healing of my kneecap, I experienced no pain or discomfort whatsoever even though I was on my feet for much of the morning and for the entire afternoon.
My chaplain, Carl Stiglich, and the men who are assigned as workers and custodians of the chapel, had to move our full-size baptismal tank from a storage area where it's kept when not in use. They then hooked up a garden-type hose from a utility sink that's in the hallway of the building and extended the hose into the chapel in order to fill the tank. I had to do this when I was the chaplain's assistant and clerk.
And after a time of singing and worship, followed by a sermon from my chaplain, the baptisms were ready to begin. So the three men who were to be baptized each took his turn to step onto a small platform, and then step into the tank where my chaplain would dunk him into the water. The chaplain then baptized each man in the name of the Father, Son, and the Holy Spirit.
Meanwhile, however, those of us who were watching this take place continually broke out into loud and spontaneous applause with lots of cheers and shouts of "Hallelujah!" And each brother who came out of the water had a big smile on his face, too. The room, it seemed to me, was filled with joyful exuberance.
Furthermore, our baptismal service, I might add, was no religious exercise. Nor was it carried out by any kind of superficial tradition. Instead it was a deeply sacred and spiritual event which, I believe, was taken notice of in heaven. And I am grateful to have been a part of it.
In addition, I had my job to do. I was one of the volunteer "mop men." After all, somebody has to clean up the mess, and I like doing things like this. So I and three other prisoners stood alongside the tank with mops in hand and buckets by our sides to gather up the water that spilled over its sides whenever one of the men got into it.
Then, after the service was over and most of the men left, I was allowed to stay behind with a handful of the chapel's workers to empty and clean the tank. It was a lot of work, but it was fun. We laughed and talked among ourselves. It was a very special day.
D.B.
P.S. Also on a good note, after yesterday's miraculous healing of my kneecap, I experienced no pain or discomfort whatsoever even though I was on my feet for much of the morning and for the entire afternoon.
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