Committed Not Carried

This post is longer than usual, but please—stick with me. I’ve recently been reflecting on my adult baptism and how vastly different it is from Catholicism or other Orthodox faiths. I understand the reasoning behind their belief that infant baptism is a necessary sacrament. I was raised Catholic and was baptized as an infant myself. In Mark chapter 2, the faith of four friends bringing their paralyzed friend to Jesus—lowering him through the roof of a home—demonstrates that the faith of those around us has a significant impact on our lives and outcomes. Therefore, even though a child or an infant cannot choose faith for themselves yet, the faith of those who love them (parents, grandparents, extended family, godparents, etc.) places the blessing on their life. It’s a sacred commitment made on the child’s behalf, with the hope and intention that one day, the child will personally embrace the faith. I get it. I respect it. Honestly, I even appreciate it.

However, the Bible clearly speaks differently. Romans 10:17 tells us, “Faith comes by hearing, and hearing by the word of God.” This implies that faith is formed through understanding, not inherited through birthright. Then Ephesians 2:8-9 says, “For it is by grace you have been saved, through faith—and this is not from yourselves, it is the gift of God—not by works so that no one can boast.” Salvation is not something we can earn or receive by someone else’s action; it’s a personal gift we must each accept through our faith. I had teachers growing up who joked that we couldn’t absorb the information in textbooks through osmosis (or using the book as a pillow in class). Same thing…

That’s the bridge that changed things for me. The more I studied Scripture, the more I realized that faith is meant to be a personal decision, not a passive tradition. That realization brought me to John 3:1-21, where Jesus tells Nicodemus in verse 3, “Very truly I tell you, no one can see the kingdom of God unless they are born again.” Nicodemus, a religious leader who knew all the rituals and rules inside out and backward, still had to be told that knowledge and tradition weren’t enough. A new spiritual birth was necessary—and that rebirth had to be chosen, not assigned.

Lastly, in Acts 2:38 and 1 Peter 3:21, Peter explains that being baptized in the name of Jesus Christ is central to receiving the Holy Spirit as commanded in the Great Commission (Matthew 28:19). Baptism is more than a physical act. It’s an outward sign of an internal transformation. It’s not just about going under the water—it’s about what the decision represents: repentance, surrender, and a new life led by the Holy Spirit.

Again, while I can understand and appreciate the Catholic/Orthodox stance on baptism, I respectfully disagree based on Biblical teachings and the clear pattern laid out by Scripture. Only by grace, through faith, and by deciding to allow Jesus into our hearts can we be saved. The water is symbolic, not salvation in and of itself. If it were, the man saved on the cross next to Christ would not have received the promise Jesus made to him: “Today you will be with me in paradise.” And if it were purely about the act, Jesus—perfect and sinless—would not have needed baptism. But He was baptized by John not because He needed to be cleansed but to sanctify the act itself. The water didn’t make Him holy. He made the water holy.

That’s what makes adult baptism so meaningful. It wasn’t something someone did for me—it was something I chose. After hearing, learning, questioning, and praying, I stepped into the water because truth had gripped my heart, not because tradition said to.

All that directly relates to sports and some of the athletes I work with via NCSA. See, I told you to stick with me.

Athletes are often born into the game a parent played or where a sibling starred. There’s a family legacy, a history, a name on the back of the jersey that comes with expectations. But talent and tradition can only take you so far. Just like baptism, you can be placed in the environment, trained by the best, and encouraged from every direction—but the moment still comes when you have to choose it.

You, my dear athlete, have to put in the reps. You have to commit to the weight room. You have to sign up for the early morning sessions, watch film, ask questions, and study the game. You have to decide it’s what you want—not just what others want for you.

A coach’s belief might get you in the gym, but it won’t win you the game. A parent’s sacrifices might open doors, but they can’t walk through them for you. You might get recruited on potential, but eventually, performance becomes personal. You have to own your development, your mindset, your habits, and your growth.

Faith works the same way.

The community around us matters. Our spiritual mentors, friends and family, and church communities play big roles in guiding and shaping us, but they can’t carry us into heaven. In the same way, our coaches and teammates can’t give us the drive to succeed. We must each come to that moment where we decide: Am I just playing the part, or have I truly committed my heart?

My baptism didn’t mark the start of my acceptance of a religion passed down. It marked the start of a relationship I chose. Just like the first time you truly fall in love with a sport—not because someone told you to—but because something inside of you knew: This is it. This is mine.

That’s what faith became for me.

In both faith and sports, when it becomes yours—really yours—everything changes. Not because the path gets easier but because now, your steps have a purpose. Your work has meaning, and your “why” becomes stronger than any challenge you’re presented with.