Reverend Jenkins said that “troubling the waters” referred to a Bible story about a healing pool, where an angel troubled the waters during a certain season and the first person in the pool after the stirring would be healed. But my teacher Miss Johnson said the song was a secret slavery song, directing runaway slaves to wade through water to throw off their scents so dogs couldn’t track them. She said God would trouble the waters to keep snakes or alligators from attacking the slaves. I didn’t know whose version of the song’s story was correct, but I did know that I felt my own knees knock a bit just from the thought of my body being dipped backwards underwater. What if I slipped? What if Reverend Jenkins and Deacon Edwards dropped me? How deep was the water? I couldn’t swim, and I doubted whether any of them could either. What if I, like Queen, felt I wasn’t truly saved? Would I choke?
“‘See that host all dressed in white. God’s gonna trouble the water. The leader looks like the Israelite. God’s gonna trouble the water.’”
My knees knocked harder as our seemingly fear-free little leader Obadiah waded into the water. He was flanked by his older brothers Abner and Abel, both fifteen and already deacons. All the Malone children had been baptized before they’d reached the age of accountability, but at only nine, Obadiah had outdone them all. I prayed that his conversion was sincere and that he hadn’t been like me at that age, confusing the deacons’ words, “I move that so-and-so become a candidate for baptism,” with “I move that so-and-so receive a box of candy for baptism.” I would hate to see him come out of that lake sputtering to catch his breath.
“‘If you don’t believe I’ve been redeemed. God’s gonna trouble the water. Just follow me down to the Jordan’s stream. God’s gonna trouble the water.’”
With the water covering the deacons’ waists, it nearly swallowed little Obadiah’s shoulders, so much so that he could have bent his knees and he would have been baptized as soon as he stepped into the lake.
The little brown face peeking out from all the white of the turban and the baptismal robe didn’t look so fear-free once Reverend Jenkins and Deacon Edwards faced him toward the crowd. I was sure Obadiah was about to cry. But when Reverend Jenkins asked him if he believed that Jesus was the son of God, that he died on the cross for our sins, and that he rose again on the third day to conquer death, hell, and the grave, little Obadiah boldly proclaimed, “Yes, sir. I do!”
“Amens” reverberated around the banks of the lake, after which Reverend Jenkins bent his face toward the sky and belted out, “In obedie-e-e-ence to the great head of the church and upon the profession of your faith, Obadiah Malone, I baptize you in the name of the Father, in the name of the Son, and in the name of the Holy Ghost.”
I could feel everyone, including myself, hold their breath as Obadiah was completely immersed in the water and swiftly brought back up.
“‘If you don’t believe I’ve been redeemed. God’s gonna trouble the water. Just follow me down to the Jordan’s stream. God’s gonna trouble the water.’”
By the time the line got down to just Fred Lee, me, and Queen, I wasn’t as nervous anymore. Maybe that was why they let the younger children go first—?to show the older ones that there was nothing to fear. No one had choked or even hiccupped coming out of the water. All eleven of the first candidates had truly been saved.
I held my breath again as Fred Lee was led into the water. He was taller than Reverend Jenkins and Deacon Edwards. What if they dipped him under and couldn’t lift him back up, and for that brief moment, he choked? Ma Pearl would have a fit if one of us embarrassed her. Lord, don’t let him choke. Don’t let him choke, I prayed over and over. When Fred Lee was lifted out of the water, I released my breath. Then the nervous feeling that had left me earlier returned. But it didn’t come alone. It brought company—?a gurgling in my stomach. I suddenly felt like I needed to run to the toilet. Lord, not now. Not while I’m wearing white.
When the deacon took my hand, it was shaking. “Don’t be afraid, Sister Rose,” he said. “If all these little ones can go down to the water, I know you ain’t scared.”
I got to the edge of the water and froze. My socked feet would not move. Both deacons tugged at my arms, lifting me into the water. I was glad the moment was meant to be an emotional one, as tears were streaming down my face.
The muddy water was still, just as its name implied. Yet I felt as if I were floating, as if I could just float up and float away. When Reverend Jenkins and Deacon Edwards faced me toward the congregants of Greater Mount Zion Missionary Baptist Church, my eyes met Fred Lee’s. With a towel draped over his shoulders, his arms crossed over his chest, he smiled reassuringly at me.