It’s there in the newborn cry
There in the light of every sunrise
There in the shadows of this life
Your great grace
It’s there on the mountain top
There in the everyday and the mundane
There in the sorrow and the dancing
Your great grace
Oh such grace
From the creation to the cross
There from the cross into eternity
Your grace finds me, yes your grace finds me
–Matthew Redman, “Your Grace Finds Me”
I was listening to this song on the radio the other day and reflecting on the baptism of my daughter, which took place this weekend at our church. And as I hummed along, the truth of that chorus, “your grace finds me,” clawed at my heart.
I think all baptism is holy–infant, adult, and all those in between. And yet, because I’m Presbyterian I’m much more familiar with the tradition of the sprinkling of waters on babies who may sometimes cry, but are otherwise blissfully unaware of the weight of the sacrament. We Presbyterians are known for our conviction in the total depravity of man, and God’s sovereignty (following John Calvin), to which all our will and desire and deeds in the world don’t even hold a candle.
And while I often struggle with a doctrine that claims the depravity of infants or the predestination of only some, the older I get the more convinced I am in and grateful for the sovereignty of God. While we may seek much in this life, it is truly by God’s grace that we live and breathe and have our being.
And so as I watched my sister, who is a pastor and who assisted with the baptism this Sunday, pour the water over my daughter’s head, I remembered how wonderful it is that even at her tender age, there is great grace, and it has found her.
How like little children we all are in the arms of our sovereign God!
May we yield as little children do to the loving arms of our maker, may we seek to walk in God’s ways, and may we remember in each moment that it is God whose grace finds us and hardly the other way around.