Thank God I’m Free

I didn’t go to Revival planning to get baptized.

Not even a little bit.

But maybe I should back up a little, because this story didn’t really begin at Revival.

It started a long time before I ever walked into that water.

I grew up believing in God.

That part was never really a question for me.

We went to church. Methodist church. Sunday mornings. The whole thing.

I believed. I prayed. I knew God was there.

But I don’t think I completely understood what it meant to actually walk through life with Him.

There’s a difference.

At least there was for me.

Eventually, I stopped regularly going to church.

I didn’t stop believing in God. I still prayed. I still thanked Him. I still knew He was there.

I just wasn’t really growing in my faith.

And I don’t think I realized what I was missing.

Then life got hard.

In 2004, I went through a terrible divorce.

It was one of those seasons when the life you thought you were going to have suddenly didn’t look anything like the life sitting in front of you.

I was trying to figure out what came next.

Trying to put the pieces back together.

Trying to be a mom.

Trying to keep moving forward.

And somewhere in the middle of all of that, one of my Pilates clients invited me to church.

So I went.

And something was different.

I remember sitting there listening to the message thinking:

Did somebody tell this man I was coming?

Because this feels a little specific.

I went back.

Jarrett was only four years old at the time, so when I started going back to church, he came with me.

And little by little, something I had believed my entire life started becoming something I was actually living.

I began to understand that faith wasn’t just believing God existed.

It was trusting Him enough to let Him have a say in what I did with my life.

That part took me a little longer.

I met John in 2006.

Our first date was actually the day before Jarrett’s fifth birthday.

And one of the things that stood out to me early on was John’s faith.

It wasn’t showy.

It wasn’t something he needed to announce.

He simply lived it.

I saw it in the way he treated people. The way he loved. The way he forgave. The way he served. The way he prayed. The way he trusted God.

John never told me what my relationship with God was supposed to look like.

He showed me what his looked like.

There’s a difference.

Over the years, my faith continued to grow.

Then we found 12Stone Church.

And once again, I found myself sitting in church feeling like the messages were speaking into real life.

My life.

Sometimes it was one sentence.

One thought.

One song.

Something I would carry home with me.

Something I would think about later.

Something I would pray about.

And slowly I began realizing that I didn’t just want God somewhere in my life.

I wanted Him guiding it.

Of course, that requires giving up a little control.

And if you know me...

Well.

We’re working on that.

I had been thinking about baptism for a while.

John and I had actually talked about it several Sundays before. I knew it was something I wanted to do at some point, but I didn’t want to plan some big production around it.

That just wasn’t what I wanted.

I figured when the time was right, I would know.

Well.

Apparently I was right about that.

John and I had also decided to do a liquid fast during the three days of Revival. We started at 7:00 Saturday night, and we attended all three nights at the Flowery Branch location, even though Braselton is our home church.

By Tuesday evening, we were coming to the end of almost three full days of fasting, praying, worshipping and spending time with God.

And those three days…

Good grief.

They were honestly three of the most amazing days I have ever experienced.

By the final night, I was already pretty emotional.

During the service, we took communion, but they did it a little differently than we normally do. Usually, we all take communion together as a church. That night, we were invited to take it on our own, whenever we felt ready.

And I loved that.

There was something so personal about sitting there with God, praying and reflecting, and taking communion in my own time.

Then later, they did something with candles that reminded me so much of our Christmas Eve services.

And if you know me, you know I LOVE the candlelight part of Christmas Eve.

But this wasn’t about Christmas.

This was about us being the light.

About carrying that light with us when we walk out the doors of the church and back into our everyday lives.

Because the church isn’t just a building.

We are the church.

All of us.

Together.

And we are supposed to carry His light with us.

I don’t think I realized at the time just how much all of that was working on my heart.

But looking back?

Oh, absolutely.

I was nearing the end of three days of fasting and prayer.

I had just taken communion in this incredibly personal way.

I had stood there holding a candle and thinking about what it really means to carry His light with me.

And then they opened the invitation for anyone who wanted to be baptized and publicly proclaim Jesus as their Lord and Savior.

I heard it.

I thought about it.

But I didn’t go.

Not yet.

They were going to continue with a few more songs, and John and I were standing there worshipping with everyone else.

We had already had several songs where both of us had our arms up, singing and praising as loudly as we possibly could.

It was just amazing.

And then another song started.

Thank God I’m Free.

I actually let out an audible, “Ahhh.”

Seriously, God?

THAT song?

That is one of my songs.

Every single time it comes on in my car, I crank it up and praise my heart out.

And now THAT song was playing.

At the end of a three-day fast.

On the final night of Revival.

After communion.

After standing there holding that candle and thinking about carrying His light.

While the invitation to be baptized was still open.

Okay.

I got the message.

I knew God was talking directly to me.

And I just started bawling.

I stood there and prayed.

And prayed.

And prayed some more.

This wasn’t a decision that had suddenly appeared out of nowhere. I’d been thinking about baptism. John and I had talked about it weeks before.

But standing there that night, during that song, I knew.

If I was going to do this, this was the time.

I looked at John.

And before I even said a word, he knew.

After all these years of marriage, apparently there are some conversations you can have with one look, because mine very clearly said,

I gotta do this.

Finally, I leaned over and whispered, “I think I want to do this.”

John said, “Okay. Whenever you’re ready.”

And I said,

“Let’s do it.”

And off we went.

John walked with me around to the side where they were doing the baptisms.

I had no change of clothes.

I hadn’t planned any of this.

Nobody knew I was going to do it because I didn’t know I was going to do it.

There was no big production.

And that was exactly how I wanted it.

At the end of this incredible three-day experience, I walked into that water in the same clothes I had worn to church and publicly proclaimed that Jesus is my Lord and Savior.

And my amazing husband was right there behind me.

Holding my shoes.

Holding my purse.

Trying to get a video of his wife, who had apparently decided to walk fully dressed into a baptismal with absolutely no advance notice.

And, from what I understand, being a complete bawling fool while doing it.

Which, of course, makes me love him even more.

And somehow, even though absolutely none of this had been planned, Alec from our Braselton campus recognized us.

He realized what was happening and captured the baptism from the front.

While I was changing out of my soaking-wet clothes afterward, Alec found John and shared the video he had taken with him.

I didn’t even know Alec had recorded it until John and I were walking to the car.

Seriously.

I hadn’t planned for anyone to be there to capture the moment because I hadn’t planned on there being a moment.

And yet somehow, there it was.

From both sides.

Because apparently God had that covered too.

Because apparently this story needed one more little detail…

While I was waiting to be baptized, the head pastor at Flowery Branch stood up and announced,

“Ladies and gentlemen, we’ve just had our 100th baptism here at Flowery Branch.”

I heard him.

But trust me, I wasn’t standing there counting people at that particular moment.

I had other things on my mind.

It wasn’t until afterward, while I was changing out of my soaking-wet clothes, that I remembered what he had said.

And I started counting.

Wait a minute.

If that was number 100…

I was number 104.

Of course I was.

If you know me, you know.

There had to be a 4 in there somewhere.

I couldn’t help but laugh.

I went into Revival expecting three days of worship, prayer and time with God.

I came out baptized.

I hadn’t planned the baptism.

I hadn’t planned the clothes.

I hadn’t planned the pictures.

I hadn’t planned the videos.

I certainly hadn’t planned the song.

And I definitely hadn’t planned #104.

But maybe that’s one of the things I love most about the whole story.

I didn’t plan any of it.

I didn’t have to.

God knew what He was doing.

From taking communion quietly in my own time…

To standing there with that candle in my hand…

To hearing a song that had meant something to me long before that night…

To looking at my husband and knowing he already understood what I was about to say…

It all happened exactly the way I would have wanted it to happen.

No production.

No perfect outfit.

Just me.

John beside me.

A whole lot of tears.

A song I already loved.

And God making it very clear that I didn’t need to keep thinking about it anymore.

It was time.

So I did it.

And I couldn’t have planned it any better if I had tried.

Now, I wish I could tell you that I came out of that water and suddenly stopped worrying, overthinking and trying to control everything.

Please.

Have we met?

My brain can have approximately seventeen conversations happening at the same time.

I can pray,

Lord, please guide me.

And then approximately thirty seconds later start offering Him the twelve possible solutions I came up with while I was waiting.

I’m working on it.

But something is different.

There were things I carried into that water that I don’t want to keep carrying.

Fear.

Worry.

Control.

The need to have all the answers.

The belief that somehow I have to figure everything out myself.

I left them in the water.

Do they occasionally try to come looking for me again?

Absolutely.

I’m still me.

I’m still learning.

I’m still growing.

But now I have a moment I can go back to.

A moment when I stopped thinking about what God was asking me to do and simply said yes.

And when those old things start creeping back in, I can remind myself:

I already gave that to Him.

I left it in the water.

There’s one more piece of this story I’ve been thinking about.

Normally, baptism at our church is a little different.

There’s more of a public declaration. Part of your story is shared. There’s a microphone. People who love you can be there to watch and celebrate.

I skipped all of that.

There was no announcement.

My family wasn’t standing there watching.

Nobody had been invited.

Nobody even knew it was happening.

Including me about ten minutes earlier.

And I wouldn’t change it.

That night was exactly what I needed it to be.

Personal.

Unplanned.

Between me and God.

But since then, I’ve realized something.

While my relationship with God is personal, my faith isn’t something I want to keep secret.

So maybe this is my microphone.

Maybe this is my chance to publicly say what I didn’t stand in front of everyone and say that night.

I believe in Jesus.

I want Him guiding my life.

I’m grateful for His grace.

And I’m incredibly grateful for the way He has patiently walked with me through every season of my faith.

From the little girl sitting in a Methodist church who believed in God…

To the woman who stopped regularly going to church but never stopped believing…

To the woman trying to put her life back together after a terrible divorce…

To the mom who took her four-year-old little boy back to church with her…

To the woman who learned so much about what quiet, lived faith looks like by watching the man she would marry…

To finding our church home at 12Stone Church…

To the woman standing at Revival, crying her eyes out when that song started playing…

To looking at John and knowing.

I gotta do this.

To walking into that water exactly as I was.

My faith today doesn’t look exactly like it did when I was that little girl sitting in a Methodist church.

It doesn’t even look exactly like it did ten years ago.

I hope it doesn’t.

I hope I’m still growing.

I hope I’m still learning to trust God more.

I hope I’m getting better at listening instead of immediately presenting Him with my fabulous plan.

And I hope I never stop.

Because somewhere along the way, my faith stopped being something that was simply part of my life.

It became the direction I want my life pointed.

Toward Him.

I grew up believing in God.

Now I’m learning what it means to trust Him with my life.

And I think I’ll probably be learning that for the rest of it.

There is one more little piece of this story that makes 08.25.26 especially tender for me.

The next day would have been my dad’s 83rd birthday.

I don’t know that I need to give that some big explanation or try to make it mean something more than I know.

I just know that when I realized it, it made the timing feel that much more special.

And on 08.25.26, I knew one thing without a doubt.

It was time.

So I walked into that water.

Street clothes and all.

And I left some things there that I have no intention of going back for.

Thank God I’m free.

Renee Pauley