When my youngest was almost four we were members of a charismatic church with a large music ministry, which met in an old barn in upstate New York. There were many things that happened in my life during that time that I may refer to later, but one thing I will always remember was my young son in the bathtub, asking me if I would baptize him right then. I asked him if he wouldn’t rather wait until the following Sunday, where he could be water baptized (properly?) in the church. I will never forget his swift and confident answer, looking me straight in the eyes. “Mom, if I get baptized at church I’d be praising to people, but if I get baptized here I’ll be praising to God!” And neither he nor I have ever felt the need to do it again any differently.