When you remember your baptism, you're not recalling a ritual. You're standing under a current of divine action that has not ceased to flow since the moment those baptismal waters hit your skin.
Despite all of our efforts to deny it, death is an inevitable event that is clearly happening to all of us. We can pretend it's not happening, we can try to convince others that the laws of thermodynamics don't apply to us, but we all know the truth. However, for the baptized Christian, despite our physical bodies literally decaying before our eyes, death is something that is actually behind us, for in our baptism, we already died with Christ, and our lives are hidden with him (Col. 3:3).
In many corners of contemporary Christianity, baptism is simply an outward sign of an inward change. It's a first step in obedience to Christ that doesn't deliver Christ and his gifts but instead demands something from you. Sadly, baptism has been turned into something we do for God rather than what Scripture teaches: a means by which he does for us what we could never do for ourselves.
So what does it mean to "remember your baptism"?
To "remember your baptism" is not to remember a moment of personal dedication or public decision. It's not to recall some emotional high. It's not a time to ask yourself if you're dedicated enough or to look inward for spiritual progress. No, to remember your baptism is to look outside yourself—to the cross, to the grave, to the raw promise of God that declared you dead and raised in Christ alone. Baptism is not comfort for the strong; it is resurrection for the dead.
Baptism Is Not About You
That's the most comforting thing you can say about baptism. In our culture of curated identity and spiritual striving, that sounds like heresy. But it's actually good news.
In Romans 6, Paul doesn't talk about your decision or your sincerity. He talks about death. "Do you not know that all of us who have been baptized into Christ Jesus were baptized into his death?" (Rom. 6:3). That's right—baptism is a drowning. It is the execution of the old Adam, the end of your self-sufficiency, and the burial of righteousness you find in yourself. You remember your baptism by remembering that in Christ's kingdom, we find life by recognizing our death: "Blessed are the poor in the spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of God" (Matt. 5:3).
Baptism is Passive
Baptism happens outside yourself. You don't baptize yourself; someone else baptizes you. You may not even remember it happening. And yet, God remembers. That's the radical message of the gospel: the effectiveness of baptism doesn't depend on your memory or your maturity. It depends on God's promise. Baptism is pure passivity. It's God doing everything while you do nothing but receive.
This is why to "remember your baptism" is not to remember what you did but what God did. The memory that matters isn't in your head—it's in God's Word, bound to water and delivered to you in helplessness.
Baptism Is Not a Symbol
If baptism is merely a symbol, then remembering it is nothing more than a sentimental exercise. But that's not what Scripture says.
Baptism is not a sign of your faith. It's not a metaphor. It's a means—a means of grace. Luther said it plainly: "Baptism is not simple water only, but it is the water included in God's command and combined with God's word."
Baptism is not a sign of your faith. It's not a metaphor.
It's God's word, not your sincerity or sanctity that makes the difference. When God speaks, things happen. He says, "Let there be light," and there is light. He says, "This is my body," and bread becomes a gift of divine mercy. He says, "I baptize you in the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit," and suddenly, this water is a means by which you and your sin are crucified with Christ, and all of your guilt and shame are buried in that tomb where the disciples declared, “He is not here!” This water is a means by which you are raised with Christ (Rom. 6:4). Your body is perishing, but your life is in and with Christ, and by remembering your baptism, you are remembering Christ's promise given to you.
In baptism, God actually does something. Not symbolically. Not potentially. Actually. He kills the sinner and raises a saint. He unites you with Christ. He declares you righteous. He marks you as his own. Ancient theologians called baptism a vivificum sacramentum—a life-giving sacrament. The Lutheran Confessions call it "the washing of regeneration and renewal in the Holy Spirit."
So when you remember your baptism, you're not recalling a ritual. You're standing under a current of divine action that has not ceased to flow since the moment those baptismal waters hit your skin.
Baptism Is for Sinners
This might be the most radical thing we say about baptism: it's not for the clean; it's for the dirty. It's not for the spiritually competent; it's for the spiritually bankrupt. It's not for those who have decided to get their life right; it's for the damned.
The baptismal font is not a reward for the righteous or a badge for the spiritually mature. It's a flood that drowns the self-justifying sinner and resurrects a child of God.
In fact, baptism only makes sense if you have no hope in yourself. It only makes sense if the law has broken you, if your record is stained, if your efforts have failed. It only makes sense if you understand that your sin is not something you fix but something that kills.
Baptism makes such a powerful theological proclamation. It screams the truth: you are helpless. You contribute nothing. You are brought to the font, not marching to your own spiritual drumbeat, but carried in the arms of grace.
To remember your baptism, then, is to remember your absolute dependence. It is to daily drown your old self—your self-justifying, glory-chasing, moral-performing self—and to hear again the word God spoke over you: You are mine. You are clean. You are buried and raised with Christ.
Baptism Is Ongoing
Many Christians view baptism as the starting line that launches you on a lifelong journey of spiritual growth. While baptism does initiate something, it's not a journey toward perfection. It's a perpetual dying and rising again with Christ.
Luther said that the Christian life is nothing more than a daily return to baptism. In his Small Catechism, he asks what it means to be baptized and answers: "It means that the old Adam in us should be drowned by daily contrition and repentance and that a new person should daily emerge and arise to live before God."
The entire Christian life is lived under water—water that kills and revives.
Did you catch that? Daily. Not once. Not as an optional add-on. But as the whole shape of your life. Baptism wasn't a one-time spiritual boost. It's a lifetime of death and resurrection. The entire Christian life is lived under water—water that kills and revives.
This is why we must hear and rightly distinguish between law and gospel. The law drowns you. The gospel raises you. That's baptism in motion. That's remembering your baptism.
Baptism Is Certain
One of the most pastoral aspects of baptism is its certainty. In a world full of religious performance, emotional rollercoasters, and inner doubt, baptism is an external word. It doesn't depend on your feelings. It doesn't fluctuate with your performance. It's a historical event with divine permanence.
Your faith may shake. Your love may flicker. But your baptism stands, because God's promise stands.
This is especially comforting for those who struggle with assurance. Did I really mean it? Have I truly changed? Am I saved? Baptism answers all of that with a resounding, "Yes—because God said so." Your faith may shake. Your love may flicker. But your baptism stands, because God's promise stands.
Luther famously fought off the devil with the phrase: "I am baptized." Not "I was baptized." Not "I believe." But "I am baptized." Present tense. Ongoing. Certain. That's the anchor of the Christian life. Not your performance. Not your feelings. But God's act. God's word. God's promise.
So…How Do You Remember Your Baptism?
You don't need to recall the date. You don't need to relive the experience. To remember your baptism is to hear the gospel again.
It is to hear the law crush your illusions of self-sufficiency. It is to hear the gospel raise you from the grave. It is to look outside yourself—again and again—to the promise spoken over water: You are dead to sin and alive in Christ.
So remember your baptism. But don't sentimentalize it. Don't internalize it. Don't turn it into law.
Instead, remember it like a drowning man remembers breath. Remember it like Lazarus remembers the voice that called him out of the tomb. Remember it like the condemned remember their pardon. Because that's what it is.
In the words of the hymn:
God's own child, I gladly say it:
I am baptized into Christ!
Sin, disturb my soul no longer:
I am baptized into Christ!
That's not positive self-talk. That's not wishful thinking. That's not your voice. That's God's voice. And that's why it's enough.
