If I believed dark, furry creatures swayed the destiny of my luck, you mine as well call the morgue. Two black cats crossed my path today. Luckily though, pun completely intended, I don’t believe in superstition.

The concept of “belief” has lingered with me lately. We throw the word around freely, but its considerations are really quite daunting. If I really believed that path could hurt me, would I take it? Or if I really believed that processing could give me cancer, would I eat it? And I guess most importantly, if I really believed God came, cared, or planned as He says, would I do things differently?

A friend of mine got baptized last week. Not a sprinkle baptism, or one of those tank immersions like they do at my church, but a full-on, “down to the river” baptism. A crew of us gathered at a lake nearby Auburn University to celebrate the occasion. Cold and rainy from a weatherman’s perspective, but undeniably radiant for all in attendance. Just short of overwriting the Gospel of John, Mary Elizabeth’s washing was beautiful.

Her story included a tough upbringing, ranging from addiction, to severe depression and illness. In a Damascus-like sophomore year, however, the Lord intersected her troubled days and has literally transformed her life. Without being too dramatic, but also avoiding too much minimizing, experiencing ME’s baptism was a miracle. As her spiky, short hair collided with the rain-struck water, the calm beams of Jesus couldn’t help but pour down.

Soaking my ride home were reflections on belief. Processing remains immature, so I’ll leave it at this: The ability to believe—anything—is a really, really amazing measure of the will. And to Mary Elizabeth, I’ll leave this: “I’m thanking God for you, a sister loved by the Lord, because from the beginning God chose you to be saved through the sanctifying work of the Spirit and through belief in the truth. He called you to this through our gospel, that you might share in the glory of Jesus Christ.” (2 Thessalonians 2:13-14).

Have a great weekend. I’m laying low, attempting to avoid all meandering black cats.