This past Saturday, I attended a baby shower. It was a great time and well-attended. She was “showered” in gifts and is much loved by the ladies who came.
Generally, I am not fond of baby showers. And it’s because of the games. Daintily tasting melted candy bars from diapers and trying to guess what they once were is not fun. Neither is taking a string, eying it and cutting it to guess how big the expectant mom’s fundus (abdomen) is. I’ve worn a clothespin on my shirt and attempted to keep it by not saying the word “baby”. If you’re caught, it’s taken away. Of course, you can nab others’ clothespins if they say it. I’ve also looked at laundry baskets filled with baby items and been asked to memorize them in the space of 5 minutes before the basket is whisked away. Whoever remembers the most items wins! Don’t even ask me about pin the sperm on the egg. You men miss all the fun!
I mean no disrespect. I play along with games. Games serve a purpose. They are icebreakers. They get the conversation going. They allow people to interact in a (mostly) non-threatening way. Baby showers are often funky conglomeration of friends and relatives, some of whom are complete strangers to each other. The games relax people and put them at ease.
What struck me about this shower was the single game we played. We were instructed to label a plastic cup with our name. Each of us ladies were given a plastic baby encased in an ice cube. The baby whose “water” broke, i.e., melted completely away from the tiny body, would win a prize.
I was more than a little creeped out by the concept of little babies on ice. And not in an Ice Capades way. I stealthily put my cup of infa-cube in the back of the room. I wanted nothing to do with it. I wasn’t trying to be rebellious. But I couldn’t get my head around icy babies.
It got me thinking. So many people become Christians and that’s the end. Finis. They figure, “I’m going to heaven! Woo hoo! I have salvation!” I have met many folks over the years who believe the “once saved, always saved” doctrine. They don’t attend church and rarely read their Bibles. In their minds, it’s a done deal. They have done their part, and Jesus did His.
I’m not here to debate doctrine. My concern is that there is *so* much more for believers. Without the Holy Spirit, you have no power to live the Christian life. God’s great love will never consume you with wonder and gratitude. Without learning about surrender, you will not find that He is bigger than all your circumstances. I could go on, but you get the point.
We can’t stay babies in the natural. My parents love me and I know they have celebrated every milestone in my life. I also realize that they had no desire to keep changing my diapers or wiping my messy face as I grew into an adult. Who wants to do that?! They longed for me to talk, to crawl and walk, and learn to take care of myself. They wanted me to go on in life and grow up. They desired for me to reach maturity. Not that I have…
So we must be as spiritual babes. We can’t hide our spirits away in the cocooning ice of salvation, steeling ourselves against the vagaries of this life, until our death or Jesus’ return. We get cold towards the things of God this way, isolated from Him. It’s a waste of a life. It’s a waste of all the gifts and good things God has given us. We must be about spiritual maturity.
Instead, it should look more like this.
Notice the upraised hands, symbolic of surrender and seeking help. Notice they are nekkid. Babies can do nothing for themselves. As such, we have nothing to give but ourselves. By the same token, we have everything to give: all we are. Shouldn’t we?