Down by the River

As I’ve mentioned on the porch, I am the granddaughter of a Southern Baptist preacher, and I’m from the south, AKA, the Bible Belt. I like to say I was in church nine months before I was born and ever since. My point? You might think I would’ve witnessed a river baptism or two. I haven’t. I’ve heard about some good ones, though. My Papaw Stone used to tell this story about a river baptism he witnessed as a young boy.

One day the whole congregation met down on the banks of the river to baptize some brand new members. After much ado, the old preacher in charge, who was more than a little hard of hearing, prepared to dunk an older lady who had recently confessed to seeing the light!

The preacher dipped her below the water, brought her up and asked, “Do you believe?” Unfortunately, his new convert had gotten a bit of river water in her throat and she wasn’t able to answer as quickly as he expected.

The reverend’s response was to repeat the process. He put her under and pulled her up again. “Do you believe?” he asked.

Bless her heart, the lady tried to answer but seeing as she was more than a little bit waterlogged her voice came out as a whisper— and that meant the preacher still didn’t hear her. Again he dunked her in the water and again he pulled her up.

“Do you believe?” He asked.

Finally, gasping for air, the woman yelled, “Yes! I believe!”

With that the preacher said, “Wonderful! Then turn and tell the congregation what you believe!”

“I’ll be glad to,” the poor old lady said. Turning to the crowd the woman managed to raise her voice and say, “I’ll tell y’all what I believe. I believe this old goat here has ‘bout near drowned me!”

Hugs, Shellie