April Fools

Let no man deceive himself. If any man among you thinks that he is wise in this age, he must become foolish, so that he may become wise. 1 Corinthians 3:18

I never would have planned it this way, but I was water baptized on April Fools’ Day. The last thing I would have ever dreamed of doing was to make such a serious act of commitment to Jesus on a day associated with pranks and practical jokes. But God sees things differently.

I had been saved barely three months; yet every time I turned on my newly-discovered Christian radio station, all I heard them talking about was water baptism. I soaked it up, but was utterly perplexed. How do I get someone to baptize me? I pondered. I didn’t go to a traditional church; my church was the Tuesday/Thursday night dorm Bible study. My pride was kicking in—I didn’t want to be laughed at for my ignorance about baptism—but nevertheless, I sought out a seasoned saint in the dorm. She was the ripe old age of 21 and about as learned as Moses. Sheepishly, I asked her to explain it to me.

Instead of teasing me for my limited knowledge, her face lit up. She got on the phone with Rick, the leader of our Bible study, and said, “We’re having baptism tonight. Get everything ready!”

The only problem: I was mortified that it was April Fools’ Day! Wouldn’t I dishonor God and open Him up to ridicule if—of all days—I was baptized on April Fools? I almost backed out.

When my wise counselor perceived my dilemma, she assured me that God would not be offended if I got baptized on April first. In fact, she shared, I was obeying Scripture—I was allowing myself to be foolish so that I could become truly wise (see 1 Corinthians 3:18). It was settled. I was getting baptized—that very night.

This was the first of many baptisms I attended while in college; every one of them was an event full of love, joy, camaraderie, and the first blush of commitment to Jesus Christ as new believers obeyed the command to be baptized in the name of Jesus.

Before I was saved I had watched this motley crew of Christians trek back to the dorm more than once after water baptisms late at night—that’s how I knew who the believers in the dorm were when I needed them later on—and here I was—on April Fools’ Day, 1975, doing the same thing. Who would have thought?

The group of fifteen or so of us hiked down to the rock quarry across campus. Some of the guys had gone ahead of us to build a huge bonfire on the bank. Several of the ladies were carrying towels and blankets. I invited three very special friends who didn’t attend our Bible study to witness my “burial and resurrection”—Linda, who was unsaved; Miriam, who was from a prominent family in her mainline Protestant church; and Carla, who was backslidden.

Rick shared on water baptism from the Bible: “Therefore we have been buried with Him through baptism into death, so that as Christ was raised from the dead through the glory of the Father, so we too might walk in newness of life” (Romans 6:4). By the light of the fire, I saw joy and expectation on everyone’s faces—except for Linda’s, Miriam’s, and Carla’s. Their heads hung low; none of them gave eye contact either to Rick or to me.

It was time. Around 8:30, with stars twinkling in the sky, I followed Rick (another Moses-type to me—he was nearly 22 and had been saved most of his life) into the quarry. The water took my breath away, it was so cold, but the joy I was experiencing warmed me to the core.

“Dorothy, have you received Jesus Christ as your Lord and Savior?” Rick asked.

“Yes,” I responded.

“Then in front of these witnesses, I baptize you in the name of Jesus!” And with that, he dunked me under the nearly-freezing water and pulled me back up.

On the bank, I heard whooping and hollering, followed by guitar and the sound of loud, jubilant singing:

“Break forth into joy, oh my soul! Break forth into, oh my soul!

For in the presence of the Lord, there is joy forevermore;

Break forth, break forth into joy, oh my soul!”

As Rick and I emerged from the water, both of us were greeted with blankets wrapped around our shoulders; and as I stood by the fire, I received joyful hugs all around. Everyone was beaming ear to ear, worshiping around the crackling bonfire—everyone, that is, except Linda, Miriam, and Carla. All three of them—the unsaved, the religious, and the backslider—were weeping uncontrollably.

God was touching each one of them, very deeply, that April Fools night.

Linda got saved less than a year later, getting baptized in the quarry herself in the dead of winter when we had to break the ice covering it—and now she is a prominent businesswoman in my area; Miriam wrote me a beautiful letter describing how the Scriptures came alive to her that night and how “newness of life” meant something new to her now, as well; and Carla went on to return to her first love, Jesus—and she has been winning souls to Him ever since.

As for me, I was through with trying to appear wise. I realized that the wisdom of the world was absolute foolishness to God; if I truly wanted to be wise, I must become foolish first—with the foolishness of God. And then—and only then—would I become wise.

And that’s no April Fools.

Dorothy