Self Salvation

When I was a kid I always wondered
if I died if I’d go to hell. All of my friends
went to church on Sunday mornings
I’d see them drive by, dressed up and
staring at me from the back seats of their
Parent’s cars. I’d wave and they’d wave
back, I was envied, I was admired,
my family didn’t go to church.

Yet I was always worried about my soul
and where I’d go if my life was unexpectedly
cut short. My fear only increased when I learned
that I was living in sin, that my salvation was
in jeopardy because I was never baptized. I imagined
sin as black spots on ones soul, and that the
holy water they used in baptisms would wash those
spots away, cleansing ones life.

Shortly after, I began baptizing myself every time
I took a bath. I’d ask God to bless the water
while it flowed from the faucet and I would think about
the black spots on my soul and pray that the water
would wash them away. I used several different methods
Each time hoping to feel a dramatic change.
The first time, I cupped my hands full of water
and raised them over my head and let the water
run down my face. I closed my eyes as the
water ran down my checks and over my lips. When
I opened them, I thought I would notice a change,
that the world would seem a little different, but everything
was the same, the sin was still filthy in my soul.

Sometimes I’d lean forward and dunk my head in the
tub and hold my breath for as long as I could
I’d pray underwater, listening to the drops
Leaking from the faucet. When I jerked up, inhaling
air as the water dripped from my hair and chin, I still
felt the same, the world stayed as it was. Several timed I
pinched my nose and leaned back, like I saw them do
in the movies; in rivers wearing robes of white. I’d lean
back and feel the water swish into my ears. I clinched
my fist and grit my teeth, prayed as hard as I could,
repeating over in over in my head, “wash my sins away,
wash my sins away.” As I rose from the water I’d take
a deep breath and exhale slowly, waiting for the effects
of salvation until the water got cold.

My self baptisms continued as I grew older. It just became
routine after a while. If I did something wrong, and I felt
remorse, I’d repent in the shower, in the bath, and even
an occasional pool when no one was looking.
After a while I envsioned my soul as black, haven been
taken over by the blemishes of sin.
Years later, when I finally was baptized, when my soul
was finally released from sin, when the doors of eternity
opened and I was saved, I wondered how many times I
tried to do the same. How many breaths did I hold, how
many prayers were said with fists clinched in concentration.

When they pulled my out of the water and wrapped a towel
around my neck I opened my eyes, hoping for the change
I longed to experience as a child, but it was all the same.
There was no profound Joy, no sudden urge to jump and
shout “Glory Hallelujah.” Just the water running down
My cheeks and dripping from my chin. I exhaled slowly
And gazed across the chapel. I was saved, and there was
nothing left to fear.