The Bathtub Baptism of Justin Bieber

Until recently, I was a non-Belieber.

He epitomized everything I detest: arrogance, Canada, and people who are better looking than me.

A different Justin Bieber has emerged of late, however. While he is still a pretty boy heart throb (and still Canadian), this Bieber seems apologetic, owning up to his past and attempting to mature. 

He has also been vocal about his newfound Christian faith, causing a public discussion about the pop star's spirituality.

Is he really a Christian? Is he not a Christian? Does he think he's a Christian but is, in fact, deceiving himself? 

I had conflicting feelings about this at first.

The cynical side of me was cautious, detecting a brilliant public relations stunt. The optimistic side of me hoped he sincerely found Jesus. Also, Bieber being a Christian makes me slightly cooler by association. 

But that was all before I heard about his baptism. 

In a relatively recent GQ article, Taffy Brodesser-Akner interviewed Bieber's pastor, Hillsong's Carl Lentz, about the unlikely pair's relationship.

According to the article, Lentz took Bieber under his wing about five years ago and Justin actually moved in with Lentz last year for a month and a half. Together they worked through life and what it is to be Justin Bieber. 

"This boy is 21," Lentz told GQ. "He's in a horribly toxic world. He is trying to do his best to figure this out. He has never been anybody but who he has professed to be, which is a work in progress."

When I look past the glamorous veneer of neck tattoos and exotic pet monkeys, I realize how the life of Justin Bieber must be incredibly difficult to navigate. Sure, he has the adoration of middle school girls everywhere, but he also has the weight of a world just hoping he screws up again. 

The destructive pressure placed on child stars is real. Just ask Miley. Or whatever is left of her.

So one day, realizing how deeply screwed up his life had become, a crying Justin Bieber told his pastor, "I want to know Jesus." The two men prayed together, then Justin asked Lentz to baptize him. His pastor was ecstatic. He wanted to set a date.

Now, I think we would all like to be saved from Justin Bieber sometimes. But imagine actually being Justin Bieber. You would want to be saved from Justin Bieber all the time, and as soon as possible.

So, as the article says, "Justin Bieber couldn't be Justin Bieber for one minute longer." He wanted to be baptized right then.

Lentz, having few baptistry options at that late hour, called his friend-who-happens-to-be-an-NBA-star, Tyson Chandler, asking if they could use the pool in his Manhattan apartment building.

"Easy. Done," Chandler said. 

When they arrived at the hotel, however, the pool was closed. So, instead, they went up to Chandler's apartment. 

They walked to the bathroom and ran some tub water. With zero fanfare, Justin sat down in a stranger's bath tub. He went under and back up again, clothing himself in Christ as he cried into his pastor's leather jacket.

* * *

I've only heard of one other bathtub baptism and that happened about fifteen years ago.

Joe was only about two or three feet long from head to toe. He was born with a condition that made his arms and legs like little flippers. And even though he was in his thirties at the time, he had the mental capacity of about a four year old. He was a happy guy, though, and talked quickly, always repeating himself.

My family crowded into our upstairs bathroom, about six of us total. In a few minutes, Tyra, his sister, joined us with Joe in her arms. 

Dad ran some bath water in the tub, filling it to suit a Joe-sized person.

We prayed for Joe and then asked if he wanted to pray. He said yes, then began talking at a pace too quick for us to understand, repeating an unintelligible phrase over and over.

Dad leaned over to Joe's snickering sister and asked, "What's he saying?"

"He's reminding God to close his eyes, hold his nose and that he loves him!"

For someone who could hardly do anything for himself, baptism was a frightful proposition, apparently.

After the giggles subsided and Joe's prayer finally ended, Dad picked him up and set him in the tub, baptizing him in the name of Jesus. 

That bathroom is now mine when I'm home. And sometimes, in that brief moment when I shut off the shower water and everything is quiet, I can still hear the faint echo of his words bouncing off the walls.

"Close my eyes. Hold my nose. I love you."

* * *

So how do we know if Justin Bieber is a Christian? Can we safely embrace him into our club yet? Can an immature, billionaire camel fit through the eye of that pesky needle?

And what about Joe? He wouldn't know any better than to consider Moses the fourth Jonas brother. But was he a Christian?

What even is a Christian?

Goodness. I don't know.

But I do know there's such a thing as one. I've seen them.

Some are accountants and some are writers. Some are Calvinist and some Armenian. Some are pop stars and some drink their pop through a straw.

And all of them - in one way or another - are broken. 

Everyone on Earth knows the world is broken. But only these people can say they are broken, too. They are the only ones who can afford to admit it.

And this confession has knocked a hole in their shell of self-sufficiency, the pain of personal failure dripping down into their deepest parts where lies an unquenchable, incurable addiction to God.

And all of them - when they grow tired of patching their shells, when they are crying in a bathtub because they can't stand to be themselves one minute longer - repeat Joe's words like a broken record.

"Close my eyes. Hold my nose. I love you. Close my eyes. Hold my nose. I love you."

Only God really knows, but I think Justin may be one of those broken people.

* * *

Here is the original GQ article. You really should read it, if not just for the fact that it's written by a lady named Taffy.