I can recall witnessing the baptism of a young man while I was on staff at Camp Maranatha in Southern California. The young man had put his trust in Jesus for salvation that very night following an hours-long conversation with his youth pastor, a man named Jack Williamson. I don’t recall the exact time, but it was after midnight when they came knocking on my door to ask if I’d open the camp’s pool so they could baptize him. I was not the only one who had been awakened for the baptism. Several young men who had been praying for this young man and who had invited him to come with them to camp had run through the grounds pounding on cabin doors and calling all the campers out of their sleeping bags and bunk beds. I sat on a deck chair and watched as they all filed in and stood in reverential silence along the edges of the pool. Most of them looked sleepy and were wearing their pajamas. Jack Williamson went down into the pool first, and without any introductory remarks he began singing “Father, I Adore You,” and over a hundred young people joined him. It was beautiful. As the last notes of the song died away, the young man joined Jack down in the water. After the appropriate questions were asked and answered, Jack baptized him in the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit, and as the young man came back up out of the water Jack proclaimed, “Buried with Christ in baptism, raised to walk in newness of life.”