The longer I live my faith, the more I am struck by the beauty and power of baptism as a lifelong mission that calls us into who we are. Baptism is more than an entry point into the Church. It is our awakening to a sacred mission that reveals a world far greater than any one person. Yet, in that vastness, God loves each of us uniquely and fully, without exception. This is true for every person, and baptism is our recognition of and commitment to live out this truth!
This truth has changed everything for me.
When I truly believe that I am loved — not because of what I do, but simply because I am God’s beloved — I am set free. Free from the constraints of fear, of comparison, of division. Free to love as I have been loved. Baptism calls us into that freedom rooted not in self, but in service; not in isolation, but in communion.
The meaning of baptism has come alive most vividly through the baptisms of my sons. Both were baptized on Father’s Day, three years apart at Mary Star of the Sea Parish in San Pedro, California. This is the same church where their father was baptized as an infant and where he and I were later married.
It’s hard to put into words the depth of emotion I felt on those days. The church was filled with familiar faces — grandparents, godparents, cousins, friends. As Bishop Sylvester Ryan poured water over each tiny head and proclaimed, “I baptize you in the name of the Father, and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit,” I knew in my bones that this was more than a family celebration. It was a moment of profound belonging to God, to each other and to the larger community of faith.
That same font had been the source of grace for generations before us, connecting us across time and space.
It anchors and anoints us into a new existence as a beloved child of God with whom He is well pleased. However, when we are baptized, we are not just welcomed and loved into the family of God; we are sent. We are commissioned to be His love in the world.
That’s the part of baptism that often gets overlooked and yet cannot be separated. The grace we receive is not meant to stay bottled up in the font or confined to a memory or a photograph. It propels us outward — into our workplaces, neighborhoods, schools and families — to bear witness to a love that is generous, forgiving and alive.
Each time I dip my fingers into the holy water at church, I remember that I have been claimed. I remember that I am part of something far greater than myself, the body of Christ. And I remember that this identity brings both comfort and challenge: comfort in knowing I am never alone, and challenge in knowing that I am called to love as God loves — without exception, without hesitation.
Baptism is a radical act of inclusion.
It tells every human heart that you are seen, you are loved, you matter. And if we truly believe this — if we let this truth take root — then hate loses its power, fear loses its grip and we begin to live in the freedom of children of God.
My sons are older now, but I often think back to those Father’s Days, when we carried them to the same font that had blessed their dad, the same altar that witnessed our vows. In those moments, generations of faith came together in the simple but sacred act of water, oil and Spirit.
Our faith is beautiful. It is both deeply personal and profoundly communal.
We are loved and therefore we must love. This is the mission into which we are born. This is the gift of our baptism.
