Philip Yancey tells the story of a friend of his who went swimming in a large lake at dusk:

"As he was paddling at a leisurely pace about a hundred yards off shore, a freak evening fog rolled in across the water.  Suddenly he could see nothing: no horizon, no landmarks, no objects or lights on shore. Because the fog diffused all light, he could not even make out the direction of the setting sun."

Yancey writes that his friend splashed about in absolute panic.  "He would start off in one direction, lose confidence, and turn 90 degrees to the right. Or left – it made no difference which way he turned.  He could feel his heart racing uncontrollably.  He would stop and float, trying to conserve energy and force himself to breathe slower.  Then he would blindly strikeout again. At last he heard a faint voice calling from shore.  He pointed his body to the sounds and followed them to safety."

Today is the Sunday in the year when the church intentionally remembers that it needs to get all wet in the amazing grace-filled waters of our baptism in Jesus Christ – drenched, gloriously dripping wet, in to him to whom we are accountable and in whom we are all saved.