This Wasn’t Just a Beach Day

Over the weekend, I had the joy of witnessing my friend Sam’s baptism. It wasn’t just another Sunday morning by the sea. It was one of those moments that make you stop, breathe, and think, “Wow, God really does change lives.”

Sam is one of those people who looks like he has life figured out. He’s a successful businessman, has a beautiful wife and daughter, and runs a growing international logistics company. On paper, it’s the dream. But what’s amazing is that during his testimony, he shared how all that success once felt a little hollow. He had everything people chase after, but there was still something missing. He said that no matter what he achieved, there was this quiet emptiness inside that nothing seemed to fill. It was only when he encountered the love of Christ that he realised what that void really was.

Hearing him say that hit me hard. Because here’s this guy who’s “made it,” and yet he’s saying that true success isn’t about what you’ve built or how high you’ve climbed, but about knowing the One who fills your soul. Watching him publicly declare that truth as he was baptised felt like witnessing a miracle in motion.

And honestly, as I stood there watching, I felt this mix of joy and reflection. I’ve always been the kind of person who craves meaningful friendships, not just surface-level ones. I want relationships that don’t just recharge me but somehow heal me too. But if I’m being honest, I’ve also been scared to dig too deep. Maybe it’s because I’ve carried this quiet fear since I was a kid.

When I was about eight, I had these friends I met one summer back in the Philippines. Their dad was assigned to a military headquarters near our house. Every day we’d meet and play at this tyre swing their dad had hung from a tree. We didn’t even speak the same language, but it didn’t matter. We understood each other through laughter and play. Then one morning, I ran out to the swing, and my mum told me they’d left. Just like that. Their dad got reassigned somewhere else.

I can’t remember the exact feeling, but I know it broke something in me. I guess that’s when the little voice in my head started whispering, “People always leave.” And somewhere along the way, I built this invisible wall to protect myself. I became the guy who’s friendly with everyone but rarely lets anyone too close. I joke around a lot, and I’m great at keeping things light, but deep down, it’s just me making sure no one gets close enough to leave.

It sounds a bit dramatic, I know. But as I grew older, and as Christ slowly worked on me, I started realising how much we need people. Real people. The kind of friends who love Jesus and who walk with you through the ups and downs of life. The Bible talks about friends who stick closer than a brother, and I think that’s the kind of friendship God wants us to have.

When I became a Christian, something changed. My circle shifted. I started finding people who were walking the same road as me. We might live in different cities or even countries, but we share the same destination. We’re all walking toward home, toward the Father. And that gives me peace. It reminds me that I don’t have to be afraid of losing people anymore, because in Christ, no relationship is ever really lost.

So, when I saw Sam rise from the water that morning, it wasn’t just a friend getting baptised. It was a celebration of new life and, for me, a reminder of what real brotherhood looks like. It wasn’t just about being dunked in the ocean (though we did joke about how it should be 5 minutes under water. lol). It was about witnessing someone being made new, someone choosing to walk the same road that I’m walking.

Sam’s baptism was a beautiful picture of what God does. He not only gives us new life, but He also gives us new family. And I’m grateful, because it feels like God just gave me another brother to walk this journey with.

For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the Lord, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future. Jeremiah 29:11