A couple of years ago a large church near us sent out an invitation online for people to come be baptized at their church.

My husband decided he wanted to do it.

This church is like a mini-mega church in our area.

I didn’t feel totally comfortable with it because their service seemed more like a show to me than an actual church service. I feel bad saying that because quite a few people we know attend the church and they are very kind, lovely people. Still, it’s the feeling I get when I attend.

My husband wanted to do it, though, so he called the church. The secretary said she’d send him some info and told him to send it back and he’d be on the list.

He filled out some personal information and sent it in, but had to fax it because they’d literally given him one day to have it back by and the church is about an hour from us so we knew it wouldn’t get there in time with the mail.

I thought the pastor would call him ahead of time, chat with him a bit, ask him about his decision, etc.

That never happened. No one from the church called except the secretary to tell him what time to be there.

We all went, including my parents, and he was placed in a line of other people getting baptized.

Still no one from the church spoke to him to tell him they were proud or good luck or how great his decision was or anything else.

Surely the pastor would come to speak to him before he was led up to the baptismal they’d set up in front of the worship team, right?

I didn’t see that happen but I was sure it had before he’d walked up and been dunked while the worship team sang a song from Elevation Worship in the background and right after a man read a small testimonial from my husband.

From my point of view it was like a conveyor belt. People went down and came up and then they handed them a towel and moved them on. They were already in T-shirts with the church’s name emblazoned on it. It was a great marketing opportunity, of course.

There was even a professional photographer.

No one from the church spoke to our family afterward, other than my parents who some of the parishoners knew. The pastor didn’t shake our hands, no staff members thanked us for coming – we just left the church like we just went through the line at the drive in.

I asked my husband in the car if the pastor had spoken to him at any point.

He shrugged. “Nope.”

I was indignant. “Are you serious? So this was just a marketing opportunity for them? What, they needed some publicity shots or something?”

I was angry and disappointed in the people who called themselves Christians.

My husband had at least hoped for a certificate but he didn’t even get that in the mail later.

None of that really mattered to him, though, he told me.

To summarize what he said: It wasn’t about the show for him or a pat on the back from the pastor or anyone else from the church. He did it for himself. For his own soul and for his family

I was sitting there feeling bitterness toward the church while he felt joy at having made a decision for his own heart and his own salvation.

A little background might be needed here. I was brought up in the church. I’ve been a Christian since I was five years old. My husband has been a Christian for several years, but more committed the last four or five. Yet he was the one who had an attitude of what really mattered was why he did it and who saw it and acknowledged it.

His response was a wake up call to me — a reminder to stop focusing on what I see as the failings of the church or God’s people.

People will never be perfect. They will never live up to the expectations I have for them because only God can reach our highest expectations.

In the end it truly didn’t matter that the pastor didn’t talk to him or the secretary never sent the certificate. There may have been very good and plausible reasons for those things not happening but even if there weren’t, it doesn’t matter.

What matters is my husband’s heart and the choice he made that brought him closer to Christ in a way that felt tangible to him.