Who made me? God made me. Why did god make me? God made me to know Him, to love Him, and to serve Him in this world, and to be happy with Him forever in heaven." - From my fifth grade catechism; I can recite it from memory. 

But to you who are listening I say: Love your enemies, do good to those who hate you, bless those who curse you, pray for those who mistreat you. If someone slaps you on one cheek, turn to them the other also. If someone takes your coat, do not withhold your shirt from them. Give to everyone who asks you, and if anyone takes what belongs to you, do not demand it back. Do to others as you would have them do to you... Do not judge, and you will not be judged. Do not condemn, and you will not be condemned. Forgive, and you will be forgiven. Give, and it will be given to you. A good measure, pressed down, shaken together and running over, will be poured into your lap. For with the measure you use, it will be measured to you.” (Luke 6:28-31,37-38)

Sounds like the Baltimore Catechism.

I was raised in a religious tradition without a catechism, without explicit doctrine, and with a strong anti-doctrinal bias.  In this tradition we were each to become as priests.

At age 12 or 13 most of us - reluctantly - spent several Saturday afternoons in the pastor's office reviewing the Bible, especially the New Testament, learning to ask questions of scripture, and to recognize questions scripture was asking each of us.

At age 12 or 13 we were presumed to have entered the "age of reason" where we could examine scripture with sufficient critical skill and self-awareness to determine whether or not we were willing to enter into a committed relationship with God.

If we decided yes (clearly the "tribal" expectation) on a Sunday in the Spring the curtains behind the altar would be drawn back, the steel baptismal tub would be filled with about 4 feet of water, and dressed in white cotton robes each of us took our turn in the tub with the pastor.

Standing in the water, in front of family and neighbors, we were each asked if we were ready to commit ourselves to God and to one another and if we accepted Jesus as our savior.(If there were other questions, I have forgotten.)  Shivering in the cold water we would whisper yes and the pastor, with one hand holding the base of our skull, briefly immersed our whole body in the water, "in the name of Jesus."  We would walk up three steps out of the water and "into new life."

What can I say?  I am still asking questions of scripture. I am still listening for the questions scripture asks me. My commitment to God and neighbor is often lazy or double-minded, but the commitment continues to inform my decisions and actions.  I still understand that Jesus is my savior.

Whenever I run water into a bathtub I am reminded of the sound of the baptismal tub filling, the cleansing of sin, the renewal of relationship, and the invitation to new life.