Why Your Church Doesn't Have Young Families.

My professor at Wake Forest School of Divinity Bill Leonard describes the post-Christendom era in which western cultures exists as the “end of Protestant privilege.” Watching the decline of mainline denominations in the United States has become a constant reminder of this fact. Once an influential institution, the western church has seen numbers spiral downwards on Sunday mornings while watching the pendulum swing towards a universally broader understanding of spirituality that includes the religiously unaffiliated, i.e. the “nones.”

The reality of this situation has produced everything from “seeker sensitive” churches to a resurgence in perceived biblical orthodoxy, all sought in hopes of “righting the ship” to remain relevant. In this process, the return of megachurches in the same ilk of J. Frank Norris’ First Baptist Church in Fort Worth TX at the beginning of the 20th century, began to pop up and see spikes in attendance. WillowCreek, Saddleback, NorthPoint, and Elevation (a short list of megachurches) refuted the belief that church had gone the way of the hula hoop. Their accomplishments were seen and noted, with attempts to replicate fast underway. However, decades later, sanctuaries designed to hold 300 persons still remain half-filled most weeks outside Christmas and Easter.

What and where is the disconnect? Why aren’t young people and young families walking through the church doors? I offer a few observations on the matter…

1. Young families see an empty willingness. Not long ago, I was speaking with the pastor of a small suburban church, and like most, he too was experiencing an average age well over 60yrs old on Sunday mornings. Because of other internal crises within the church, he and church leadership brought in an outside consultant to help perform a congregational assessment. Part of this exercise was listing at least three things the entire church wanted to see happen heading into the future, and of course, attracting young families was on the list. As the leaders began to break down how this would be accomplished, they discovered that due to a lack of willing volunteers and limited resources ranging from creating space (youth areas and child care) to purchasing teaching curriculum, achieving this by the standards they were familiar with was impossible. When the time came to re-evaluate their goals, the pastor said his congregation had completely taken “young families” off the list. They just didn’t see it as something possible for them to achieve. This leads to...

2. Inadequacy & Self-imposed shame. Often when you feel like you failed at something you tend not to talk much about it when the topic comes up. It makes us uncomfortable when weakness is exposed. Another pastor friend told me of the first church she was called to right out of seminary. It was a rural church made up of a handful of families. She shared with me that on one Sunday morning two new families showed up for the 11am worship service. Both families had children and she was excited to see how the congregation, who like the one in the example above, desired to see more young people fill their pews every week. The way her church’s worship was structured, there was a time at the end of the service where people went downstairs for extended fellowship over a light snack. Her senior pastor reminded everyone of this before the benediction, and my friend was sure these two families were going to be descended upon by the rest of the congregation as soon as her pastor let the last “amen” drop. Much to her surprise, no one spoke to the families! The regulars made a beeline for the food downstairs and left the new families alone in the sanctuary. My friend said she was able to introduce herself to one of the families while the other slipped out a side door. I told her this sounded like a missed opportunity to which she truthfully admitted to me her church at that time had little of what could be considered any ministries geared towards younger families with children. Thinking about this, perhaps some churches stop inviting young couples in because they feel as if they have little to offer.

3. Lastly, the inability to separate appreciation of tradition vs. actually living out traditions. Writer Daniel Quinn in his work Ishmael says, “ Our ancient customs are nice for institutions, ceremonies, and holidays but we don’t want to adopt them for everyday living.” I would argue this way of thinking has found its way into people’s modern understanding of church, and this is a direct result of faith practices being limited to a structure. The institutionalism of church has fostered a belief which dictates holiness be kept between stained glass windows and narthexes. I often hear people say on Sunday, “have a nice week” indicating their actions with each other begin and end on Sunday mornings. Is this the result of a tradition which was handed down, or is there something more to this idea of being church? I believe we need to focus our attention on the latter.

While I gave some examples of stories I’ve heard, I know that there are many more out there with similar endings. Stories of churches unsure of how to approach their inability to draw in young people and families whether because of lack of resources, shame, or hanging on to limiting traditions. Hear me when I say, for those with ears to hear, there is hope. However, there must be space to challenge old mindsets. To push back against formulated programs guaranteeing success. To be willing to step into uncomfortable spaces. Being able to see other possibilities for connection. Instead of viewing invitations into designated buildings on Sunday as the only way to expose them to Christ’s Church, might we invite them over to our home for supper? Perhaps planning to attend one of their children’s little league baseball game is another? We need to start seeing that going to a recital and cheering on their child’s solo performance as a big “C”hurch moment.

I could be wrong, but if you show up in those moments you might just find that young people and young families won’t really care if you have the most state of the art facilities. Your compassion and presence are what is truly being desired.

Sacred & Profane: A Call To A Life of Disruption.

I woke early this morning, 4am to be exact. Lauren and Violet were still asleep less than a arms lengths away, and after a bit of tossing and turning, I decided to go ahead and make coffee and do some reading.

I have been plowing through some books that through the school year only allowed me to read a chapter here and there. Reading an entire book from start to finish is like listening to a vinyl record. It takes a conscious effort to skip around if one chooses, and while digital downloads are convenient something is just lost in the process. Maybe that’s why good albums from start to finish are a rare thing. Maybe books are the same way too.

When I read I pay attention to footnotes and references to other source material. Higher Ed has trained me to think in this manner. Usually, at a break in the story, I’ll do a quick search of an author or source material mentioned and distract myself usually longer than I intend. This morning I did just that and found a quote from one of my Wake Divinity professors talking about one of my favorite Christian anarchists.

While I’ll spare you the names and the backdrop, a statement was made of this individual saying they could “sanctify profanity like no one else.”

Sanctify profanity. I like the sound of that.

 It sounds like Church work to me. Hear me when I say “Church” work which shouldn’t be confused with “steeple” work. Steeples churches are institutions which, be they good or bad, will eventually become self-absorbed, self-preserving, and self-serving in some form or fashion. Sometimes it’s hard to see this, especially if the institution's ideology lines up closely with our own. Institutions are always looking for acolytes to carry their messages and purposefully initiate innovative conversions. Be they hate-filled messages laced with racial rhetoric of superiority or university mottos which implore one to bow before the academic throne, BOTH are done so to keep a self-focused creed moving along.

The Church Jesus spoke of in Matthew Chapter 16 is far removed from “steeple works.” Yet Church, instead of engaging creation and acknowledging ALL HAVE been reconciled through the incarnated Christ, we erect steeples…Instead of seeing and affirming that Christ has already sanctified all which is profane, we substituted divine reconciliation for a structure of dogmatic beliefs. A swing and a miss. If the definition of sin is to “miss the mark,” then I think it’s safe to say the institutional church has, and is, sinning.

For those that know me and know I work within the institutional church, let me be quick to say I confess and see the “beam in my own eye” (Matt. 7:5) as a problem that needs correcting. Now to try and think I could simply fix the issue would perpetuate what Baptist have been doing since their emergence; splitting while still producing the same result. I do not wish to fabricate another “steeple,” because that’s what happens when we think “if we just did it this way it would be better.” I’m taking a different approach and it’s the only one I feel somewhat qualified to perform; to work on the fringe while simultaneously being a "detached voice, offering criticism that is provocative yet rarely heeded."* This means steeple churches need a Minister of Disruption so to speak. Someone to call them back to the Church of a 1st century Galilean. One who has, and is continuing, to sanctify the profane.

 That is the message of reconciliation. That is the message of the Church. That is the Gospel.

*Will Campbell: Radical Prophet of the South, Merrill M. Hawkins, Jr. 

Old Wells and Rabbit Holes: A Reflection on Classism in the South.

Concerning the summer months in the South I love them solely for two reasons; being that Fall is the next season away and the pleasure I get at despising the heat and humidity. However, I might need to revise and add a third to my shortlist. Higher education forcible imposes on one a list of readings every semester, while the summer allows one to lean into personal interest and preferred learnings.

I’ve devoured much of Will D. Campbell’s writings over the past two years. Yet, there remain selections I’ve only skimmed for one purpose or another. Providence is one such work. Campbell chronicles the story of a square mile acre farm in Mississippi and how the land changed hands over the years. In one chapter I came across a line which took me back to my own upbringing. Here Campbell has returned to his family’s farmland in Amite County, Mississippi and is drawing water from an old well.

I had forgotten how heavy a well bucket full of water is. I strained to bring it up from the sixty-five foot hole in the ground, wondering if it would be clear and cold as I remembered it being when I was a boy. I tilted the bucket and drank directly from it. It had no taste at all: pure water never does. (Providence, 113)

While Campbell and I are two if not three generations apart in age, I too grew up on a family farm which still had a traditional well on the property. It was located at the “old homestead” where my great grandfather John Addison Stigall had raised, among other children, my two great aunts Emmie and Minnie. These two women remained in this structure, some of which had been built right after the Civil War, until the 1990s. My childhood summers were spent at the homestead, and drawing well water was an everyday occurrence. We would draw the water and dip a large metal ladle into the cool extract of the earth and drink deeply.  My memory too makes me believe the water was tasteless just like Campbell describes.

The thing with memories is one us usually produces another and down a “rabbit hole” I went. I begin recalling other times with aunt Emmie and Minnie. Both loved to play games; Emmie more of the table variety such as Rook while Minnie, who my entire family affectionately referred to as “Mole,” would play outdoor games such as “kick the can” and “roller-bat.” It was thinking of these games which caused me to conjure up and old “tag” game the two women taught me and other children in the family. The game was attached to a song/rhyme.

How far is it to Molly Bright?

Three scores and ten.

Can I get there by candlelight?

Yes, if your legs are long and light…

But you better watch out for two red-headed witches on the way.

I hadn’t thought of that rhyme in years and was surprised how easily I was able to draw it, much like the well water, from memory. Where had this song come from? I decided to sit aside Campbell’s book for a moment and do a quick Google search to see what was out there on the subject. Not four hits down I came across a source from a work entitled Stolen Childhood, Slave Youth in Nineteenth-Century America. The author, Wilma King, writes,

Sometimes black and white children played together and learned from each other. Similarities in the play of children of different cultures and national origins male it possible to say definitely where an activity originated. Formal European games became part of the slave child’s repertoire, but regional color and flavor added distinction. Children of African descent gave songs unique sounds and added clapping rhythms, dance steps, and body motions that were unmistakably a part of their own culture. (122)

On the following pages King gives an example of what young bondservants (someone bound in service without wages) sung during the period.

Can I git to Molly’s bright?

Three course and ten.

Can I get there by candlelight?

Yes, if your legs are long and light.

This version was derived from a British game called “Barley Break” which when it crossed the Atlantic became “Marlow Bright.”

Marlow, marlow, marlow bright,

How many miles to Babylon?

Threescore and ten.

Can I get there by candlelight?

Yes, if your legs are long as light.

Upon further searching, I discovered a mention of a “witch” in Folklore and Folklife, An Introduction. In this rendition, the above rhyme is the same, but a final verse is added. “But take care of the old gray witch by the roadside!” This is the game I remember from my youth where groups of players stand at opposite ends of a designated play area and began reciting the rhyme back and forth to one another. The game is afoot after the mention of the witch who attempts to tag players in hopes of making them witches as well. The game ends when only one player is left untagged. Games in a similar style have been played since Elizabethan times. (Robert George, 178-179)

Because correct wording matters little to children, Marlow Bright became Molly Bright to young African-American adolescents. Reading this, I became aware the version my aunts had passed down to me shared more in common with the African-American slave children tradition. Why?

Because my people, poor rural working-class whites born before and after a Reconstructed South, had more in common with their black counterparts than they had with their fellow white, but aristocratic, neighbors. Make no mistake, both groups suffered differently, but both suffered under manufactured oppression. While I would never want to make comparable the treatment of those who were sold in chains from Charleston to the Chesapeake Bay as the same as those coming from European countries as either serfs or indentured servants, I believe a shared distinction of classism was thrust upon both by a benefiting “third party.”

I took my eyes off the computer screen and flipped back to the previous chapter in Campbell’s Providence. Campbell had something to offer concerning the social status of poor whites,  

Standing in the wings with both envy and awe, watching the prosperous few alter forever the world they had known, were the early white settlers who had eked out a meager existence on ground they often claimed by impinging extralegally upon Indian territory but which the newcomers, interlopers to these simple and hardworking folks, were quick to point out they did not own and probably never would. Yet they stayed on. To become the tools of the new aristocracy. To serve as plantation overseers on horseback, supervising the black slavedrivers who prodded their fellow slaves to greater productivity with bullwhips. Stayed on to become their ‘white trash,’ disregarded in matters of government, education, and commerce until they would be needed to fight a war in which they had no stake at all. It would be they who would swell the ranks of the Confederate army, would, for the first time , be needed and evangelized by the learned chaplains of the patricians who would convince them theirs was a holy war, and that, incidentally, there were human beings - black people - to whom they were superior. Down the road lay a revolt of these whom the carriage trade callously referred to as ‘rednecks,’ but for now, in this formative period of the Cotton Kingdom, they were not needed. (Providence, 100)

White trash, redneck, or whatever derogatory title imposed upon a people group; these are distinctions between the “haves and have-nots.” People exploited for their work and their need to be seen as equal. Manipulated in order to ensure another group of people’s rights be kept from them. Both parties suffering while casting blame in the wrong direction.

But not children. There we find hope.

Somewhere, and I’ve got some digging to do, is an intersecting an interesting story of how my great aunts learned a song sung by the children of former slaves. My hunch is that somewhere in the hot humid summers of the South’s past a game was played by children and sides were picked. Teams were not based on “color,” but on the willingness to participate. Their parents had worked alongside each other for the same patron but had been pitted against one another for the purpose of division. When the game was over and the children returned home, this spirit of disunity was allowed to fester in their segregated communities. That’s the story, that’s the shared tragedy, which has been left at the bottom of the universal well of the South.

I mean to draw it out, but I’m going to need some help.

As you were,

~tBSB

#CoolToo

Recently, Lauren attended a baby shower for a friend back in Raleigh. While there, one of her past co-workers brought a basket of gifts for Lauren and I to celebrate the birth of our own baby, Violet. Inside was a onesie which, as you see below, plays to my association with all things facial hair.

"If you're Dad doesn't have a beard, you really have two Moms."

Clever, humorous, and I'm sure offensive to some. It was this thought which made me pause as I began to upload this image to social media. Without explanation, if I were to post this image on Twitter, Instagram, Facebook, etc...what theological implications would I be applying? Words and actions carry weight, and I want mine to be significant. Often I get pigeonholed by others as of having a certain way of thinking, and these assumptions depend a lot on the crowds I find myself in at different times. Do I feel a certain way about this or that issue? Does feeling that way about "Issue A" automatically makes me feel a certain way about "Issue B?" What I've come to see is that when folks can categorize you they are more likely to judge you, and if I can help it, I don't like giving them that satisfaction.

That's why I want to start something a bit different. Something that doesn't promote sameness, but encourages unity. That's why in my social media post about the onsie I said, "But ya' know if you have two mom's that's pretty #cooltoo." 

#Cooltoo I hope fosters open dialogue while still encouraging individual perspective and honoring personal experiences.

"I grew up with a mom and a dad. You grew up with two moms. That's #cooltoo"

"I'm a parent, but you're not. That's #cooltoo because we both know what its like to have responsibilities."

"I like sausage you like pepperoni, but that's #cooltoo because we both like them on pizza." 

"I'm liberal you're conservative, but that's #cooltoo because we both think taking care of the earth is important."

"I'm Christian you're Muslim, but that's #cooltoo because our faith is an active expression of love in this world."

If anything, the spirit of what #cooltoo is dialogue with others. It's a movement based on adding "and yes, instead of but no." 

I hope you find a place to put this idea into practice, but if you dont...that's #cooltoo

Cheers,

~tBSB

The Spirit of Love vs. Jeff Sessions

This past Sunday, on Father’s Day, I was asked to preach at First Baptist Statesville where I currently serve as Minister to Students. I get this opportunity every few months and am thankful for the chance to share a “word from God” with those in the congregation. My sermon had already been written, that is to say, I thought it was complete.

And then Jeff Sessions said what he said and I was left to do a bit of revising.

The focus of my sermon dealt with love. I know, I know...pretty safe topic for sure. However, I felt that a focus on love is what the world is needing at this moment (really, it needs love at every moment). The reaction Bishop Michael Curry Royal Wedding sermon received is proof that people want to hear more about love. Most people I would argue believe they have love figured out. They have experienced it in some form and fashion, and love has been categorized as the “old dog with no new tricks.” I'm telling you we shouldn’t write love off so easily.

In John’s Gospel, Jesus has been traveling with his disciples for a length of time. These 12 individuals and the others who are not so easily counted, followed this young, enigmatic, mystical carpenter had certainly experienced love before. They had grown up in a faith that taught them that the God of the universe was for them. They were God’s people, they were chosen. There’s an aspect of love in that sort of relationship, and then that same love becomes incarnate and walks among them. Not only does this God-man, Christ, appear and call them, but he enters into a deeper relationship of love with them. Biblical scholars have debated on the length of Jesus’ ministry, but I surmise that whatever the time, in the 14th Chapter of John’s Gospel these disciples probably thought they knew what love was. Then Christ tells them that love is going to get a lot bigger. That this “advocate” that this “counselor” that this “Spirit of love” which is God is going to come and live within their hearts and change the way they understand love.

I’ve had a moment like that where love got bigger. Lauren and I have been married now for 5 years, and we’ve known each other just shy of a decade. Through her I have experienced love in a way I had not before, and just about the time I thought I was getting a handle on that sort of love...here comes Violet.

And love simply got bigger.

This past week I was at a conference that had me away in the mountains of western NC. Cell phone service was a bit iffy in my location, but Wifi was available and so on Wednesday night I decided to FaceTime Lauren to talk with her and to check up on Violet. When she answered the call I saw the two of them and as Lauren focused her screen on to Violet’s face my eyes began to produce Niagara Falls type tears.

I knew at that moment I was leaving. I drove the two hours home to eat dinner with my family and sleep beside them. No not with Lauren and I in a nice cozy bed (we bought a new mattress right after Violet was born and have YET to sleep on it) and Violet in a crib beside us. I sleep on a past it’s prime IKEA couch while Lauren and the babe co-sleep in a large Lazy Boy recliner beside me. Then waking up at 6am, I drove back to the mountains in order to make it to the first session of the day at the conference. That’s a new kind of love I didn’t have before. Being separated from my family physically hurt me, and that’s why I had to include in my sermon that the same spirit of love Christ spoke of was the same spirit that calls his people now to stand against any policy, legislation, law which would separate children from their parents. People can debate immigration reform, but trying to justify this with a bastardized rendition of Paul’s letter to the church in Rome displays nothing of a spirit of love. Instead, it shows a hermeneutic where compassion for fellow humans is disregarded for the betterment of the State. According to the Roman State, Jesus the deity Christians claim to worship, was considered a criminal.

Jesus became a criminal and prisoner of society and was executed for us. All! Everyone! When we call him Lord! Lord! we are therefore calling upon a Lord who was and is a prisoner after the same manner of those eleven prisoners who speak to us in the pages of this book (Bible). It is for them, as for the criminals who were executed with Him, that Jesus died and was raised to life. We cannot take refuge in our law-abidingness, our good citizenship and economics, for our Lord was Himself executed as a criminal and this brings freedom, resurrection, to them.

If, as we believe, the first Christian community was those three criminals and prisoners at their execution at Calvary, then we who call Him Lord! Lord! Must bear witness to his promise to the criminals and prisoners: “I tell you this: today you will be with me in paradise.”

The good news from God in Jesus is freedom to the prisoners.*

So let the State do what the State does. Let them try and justify their actions with literal interpretations of scripture. Let them try and separate and detain families (and no, this was not something established 20 years ago). AND when and while this happens, maybe we who claim to follow this criminal Jesus, we who claim to hold this spirit of love within our hearts, should head out to our tool sheds and grab a literal pick axe and head over to the county jail and “proclaim freedom to the captives and release them from the darkness of prison.” (Isaiah 61)

* Will Campbell & James Halloway

BNG: Powerful spiritual force needed to counter critical national, world challenges

The following piece was written by Jeff Brumley at Baptist News Global. Thanks to him and BNG for including me in this piece. The article can be read in its original format HERE. 

Research shows that a slight majority of Americans believe religion can solve most of the world’s problems.

According to Gallup, 55 percent of Americans hold that view. Broken down by politics, 71 percent of Republicans and 47 percent of Democrats express that opinion. Protestants who attend church weekly are most likely to agree.

Justin Cox, a North Carolina youth minister, told Baptist News Global he hopes faith could tackle “issues surrounding sustainability and the environment” which “are rarely spoken from a pulpit.”

Cox is minister of students First Baptist Church in Statesville and a student at Wake Forest University School of Divinity.

Divine intervention may be key to countering ecological decline given the Drumpf administration’s systemic dismantling of regulations protecting the environment. But for Cox the conversation belongs in religion, not politics.

“Topics such as global warming and organic farming have been wrongly categorized as being political in nature which has contributed to an apathetic view towards stewardship of creation,” Cox said in an email to BNG. “Instead of co-creating with God in this process, humanity has chased self-preservation and glorification, resulting in the eradication of certain species of plants and animals.”

There was a time when many more in the U.S. were optimistic about the ability of religion to solve important challenges.

“In 1957, a time of greater religious commitment in the United States, 82 percent believed that religion could answer all or most of the day’s problems,” Gallup said.

That’s the year the Soviet Union launched Sputnik, striking fear in the hearts of millions of Americans. The Suez Canal crisis also raged, pitting East versus West and raising the specter of conflagration in the Middle East.

In 2002, 66 percent of adults surveyed said religion could solve most of the world’s problems, Gallup reported.

The wounds of 9-11 were fresh at that time and war was ramping up in Afghanistan. The future seemed terrifying to many.

The all-time low for trust in religion came in 2015 with 51 percent, though “Americans’ views on religion’s relevance in answering problems have since stabilized” in the 53 percent to 55 percent range, the organization said.

Despite the flagging trust in faith, its role could be crucial in ending the human tendency to dismiss different people as “others,” said Scarlette Jasper, Cooperative Baptist field personnel and executive director of Olive Branch Ministries in Somerset, Kentucky.

“I would like to see religion solve the issue of ‘othering,’” Jasper told BNG. “When we don’t see people through God’s eyes, then we are not loving people as God has intended us to love each other.”

Misfit Ministers and Seedy Sanctuaries

I used to hear pastors joke about visiting neighboring towns in order to be able to buy Southern Comfort comfortably. The awkward conversations and stares occurring between clergy and parishioners as they make eye contact in liquor store aisles would be an interesting coffee table book (Episcopalians are of course excused from this self-imposed embarrassing interaction). Recently I was leaving a local grocery store in the community where I serve and had picked up a few libations as hospitality offerings for a social gathering later that afternoon when I ran into an individual from our church. My liquid spirits were not in a bag, instead, they hung loosely in one of my hands. The person and I exchanged pleasentries, nothing beyond the “good to see you” and “I hope the rain holds off today” idle chit-chat. We said our goodbyes and it wasn’t until I got in my car that the thought crossed my mind of what had been in my hand. For a generation of Baptist pastors, and certain Protestants groups now, this might have been a moment of experienced taboo…

But I’m not that kind of Baptist pastor.

Lutheran pastor Nadia Bolz-Weber has spoken of her conviction in her published works and in several interviews to be a “pastor to her people.” Bolz-Weber feels a kinship to those in her community that don’t have a pastor or who aren’t typically welcomed into a traditional Christian community, i.e. those who identify as LGBTQ. From what I can tell, she is acting as a representation of Christ’s love to a group who has been shunned more by those claiming to be followers of Christ than welcomed and loved by them. According to her church’s website, Bolz-Weber and her congregation meet in a church which looks traditional. This means that those who might have a negative connotation towards “steeples” might have to set that aside in order to enter into this space. Bolz-Weber’s reputation precedes her and helps in that process, but it still presents a bit of overcoming for those who feel they are on the outside.

That’s why I like going to places where most church folk won’t, admittedly anyway, set foot in. These places, or what I would call “seedy sanctuaries,” are where raunchy reverends and misfit ministers need to frequent. Dive bars and bootleg houses make the list. Of course, I’m not entering these territories with the evangelical assurance and zeal of a cocky street preacher. Instead, I enter as just another fly on the wall; an individual looking for something cold to drink, and a place to share my story with others around the proverbial watering hole for a couple of hours. In this arena, I’m living out what Baptists call the “priesthood of all believers”. Everyone is on equal ground...especially when cheap beer is on draft.

I’ve had some deep and great conversations about faith in these shady places. I’ve drunk Guinness and prayed with a couple whose daughter was sick and I’ve offered a defense to others who thought they were beyond redemption. Between prayers and pints, I’ve made friendships and hopefully given folks in those moments a different look at what a pastor/preacher can be. And while this works for some, not all traditional church folk are on board. This is nothing new of course. People have been arguing since Pentecost on how to live out the Christ-centered community. Recently I’ve been reading an account of the start of Koinonia Farms and Clarence Jordan. Jordan and a handful of other pastors wanted to experiment a way of living which looked like the early first century Church; being in unity in all things and likewise sharing in their possessions. During the first several years, Jordan and others visited Hutterite and Bruderhof communities who were practicing a similar lifestyle. After a few visits to one of those communities, a family who had been on the farm for quite some time thought that the other group was living this mission out in a better way. They exchanged letters, and in one Jordan admits the shortcomings of himself and the community of Koinonia. While voicing his understanding that this experiment on a farm in South Georgia wasn’t perfect, he also says, “All of us know how much darkness there is in us at times, yet I have seen the light of God shining brilliantly in this little group here and I thrill to be part of it.”

I’ve seen this brilliant light of God too, shining on folks between beer taps and fluorescent signs.

I once had an individual question why a group of ministers, myself included, met at a local bottle shop to hold an interdenominational study. Why couldn’t we meet in a coffee shop or restaurant? The easy answer; because that’s where my people are and they're entitled to the good news too. For some, it’s hard to get past these types of locations. These are simply stumbling blocks for them.

I’m here to tell them they don’t have to. For those in those spaces, they have me and others like me.

Cheers to the oddballs on the offbeat path of faith.

Cheers to the God who loves them all the same.

As you were,

~tBSB

The Longest Table: A Community Engages One Another.

This week I began serving full time at my church in Statesville. As much as I love sitting in a classroom during the academic year, I look forward to the summer months for the experience of truly being able to practice presence with the congregation God has called me to serve. For example, so much can happen between Monday and Wednesday that I feel I have to play catch-up when I come back after being away for just a couple of days. When attending classes, I feel as if I exist in a perpetual “half-life” state of not being able to give myself fully to either the church or academia. While I might have become proficient at this it’s not a desired state. Doing life with people is a day in day out commitment and the summer months allow me to flesh out what this actually means in a practical sense. This past Tuesday, I got to observe and participate first hand in what this looks like.

In the two years I’ve served in Statesville I have seen the community come together and express concern about a number of issues. Be it the opinions on the removal of Confederate statutes or the issue of gun violence, local news sources have shown the people of Statesville are ready to discuss these hard issues. Simultaneously, this community wants to celebrate who they are (as seen in this UNC-TV spotlight) while looking to the future with a hopeful vision of who they could be. The “Longest Table” event put on by the United Way of Iredell was a step in helping facilitate conversation around these topics.

This represented about half of the tables set up for the event. Participants were encouraged to write down ideas/thoughts on the heavy brown paper that acted as table cloth. 

People from different walks of life, including ethnic and social economic backgrounds, came together at Statesville High School’s football field to share a meal and get to know one another. Around 600 people came out and I was fortunate enough to be a facilitator at my assigned table. I was instructed to pose two questions to those around me; what do you enjoy about our community and what and where do you want to see changes made? As local city official served the meal, the participants expressed their love for the downtown revival Statesville is experiencing currently and how the community was made of “real” people who you knew. For example, two of the people at my table had close connections with one another. When young lady informed the man across from her that she believed he worked with her father, and he responded with “Oh, yeah sure do. That must make your granddaddy…” In Statesville, at least to some degree, you don’t have to play “six steps of separation” to find out how you know the person across from you. The small town feel of “everybody knows everybody” seems alive and well.

While I didn’t have any youth age participants at my table, the people I did have expressed the lack of activities for young people to take part in. I’ve heard this before when talking with students at my church who always seem to want to head to the neighboring city of Mooresville when it comes to doing anything. One woman spoke up during this time and confessed that while this was an issue, her teenage daughter was involved in so much already that adding another activity for her to do would prove problematic. This too I’ve seen on a weekly basis as students at my church are ushered from one extra-curricular activity to the next.

Coming back home that evening I discussed with my wife, who had been there beside me along with baby Violet, how good the event felt. People “breaking bread” together and taking just a short break from their own lives to hear the stories of their neighbors was a step in the right direction. Nothing was solved that evening, no one walked away with any solutions, but people had listened to each other and that’s not a bad place to start. As a faith leader in this community, I found myself wondering what role the church has to play in this conversation.

Me and fellow Wake Forest Divinity student Rev. Reginald Keitt. Reggie serves as the senior pastor at Mt. Pleasant Ame Zion Church in Statesville. 

I don’t believe the answer lies in programming or quarterly events, but instead in cultivating space where conversations like the one we had that night can happen on a regular basis. The church must be a place that brings people together instead of a place that suggests those there “have it all together.”

Like the people of Statesville, the church has a lot of questions it needs to ask itself in order to make this happen. Getting outside of the institutional walls and joining our larger communities at "the table" is what our faith compels us to do. It was a reminder for me to act on that conviction. Let it be a reminder for you as well.
 

As You Were,
~tBSB

Lack of Advocacy: The Need for CBF to Adopt A Statement Of Affirmation For Those With Disabilities.

          In the Fall 2017 semester, while taking a theology course offered at Wake Divinity by Dr. Voss Roberts, I encountered a lack of affirming language and practices within my own denomination, the Cooperative Baptist Fellowship, concerning those within our faith communities who possess varying disabilities. This self-awareness led to many discussions with those in CBF life both on the state and national level. This post chronicles some of my journey and discovery by engaging the presentation and facilitation of dialogue held around the topic at CBFNC’s Annual Gathering which took place at Knollwood Baptist Church March 16th, 2018. This post represents my reflection in dealing with and processing of what came out of that conversation with fellow ministers I asked to participate in this endeavor with me.

            I decided to turn my interest into an independent study this semester with Dr. Voss Roberts who encouraged me of its importance. Early on I began to struggle with the idea of presenting. I felt it was somewhat inauthentic of me to present myself as any sort of authority on the issue. Instead, after an additional meeting with Dr. Voss Roberts, I decided to own that fact and worked it into my presentation. Another resource I wanted to tap into was different denominational perspectives. I didn’t offer a structured panel discussion, but I asked four different faith leaders to join me that afternoon and share their stories and experiences. I included several research statements from other Baptist organizations and provided entry-level language in addressing the issue. I also included some statistics on the subject as well. My hope in doing this was to “cast a wide net”, appealing to those who zoom in on numbers as well as those who are drawn to more personal anecdotes.

CBFNC Annual Gathering

             I started out my presentation thanking all that came. Sixteen was the headcount I took when it began. I believe it’s important to point out the age demographic; 75% of those who attended appeared to be Millennials or Generation X while the remaining few were Baby-boomers. After the welcome, I jumped into the PowerPoint and laid out three questions I wanted to answer: Who I was? How I ended up here? Who am I not? These questions laid the groundwork for letting the room know who was speaking to them. I explained my role as an ordained clergy in a CBF church in Statesville, NC. I told them I was a 2nd-year divinity student at Wake Forest University and it was during a course I had taken which prompted me to start asking questions as to why CBF had no official statement affirming those with disabilities. Lastly, I told them I was not an exhaustive voice when it came to this important discussion. I was no expert on the subject; rather I was just a person trying to figure out more about this issue by asking questions in hopes to start a dialogue which leads to action.

I included pictures and links of CBF web pages being sure to point out the “advocacy” page on CBF’s national site, www.cbf.net, one that did not mention those with disabilities. I then brought up statements, both full and partial, from the American Baptist Church and Southern Baptist Convention addressing the same issue. My conclusion of this information was CBF could not claim local autonomy, the local church’s right to govern itself, as the culprit for the lack of engagement around the topic. I wanted to point out as well the statements by other Baptist denominations were nothing new. The SBC statement originated in 1978 and American Baptist Churches had gone through several revisions of their own statement, the latest being 2002.

I also wanted to be clear about this problem's impact on more than just Baptist. I invited four speakers to share their stories that day. Wes Pitts is the Minister of Education at First Presbyterian Church in Statesville. Carrilea Hall is the Associate Minister at Broad Street United Methodist Church in Statesville. I know both of these wonderful individuals from serving in the same community as them. Wes’s church host a weekly time and space for those with disabilities and Carrilea’s church partners with Camp Barnabas, a camp for those with disabilities, for the last several years. I also invited Shakeisha Grey from the divinity school at WFU. Her experience as a chaplain and perspective as a candidate in the UUA I believed would be appreciated and insightful.  Anita Laffoon is the Minister of Church Life at First Baptist Church – Kernersville, NC. Anita’s church has created space for those with disabilities and has been practicing and redefining their methods for many years. Because the session only lasted an hour, I notified my speakers than 5-7 minutes a piece would the allotted amount of time I could give them to answer two questions. The first, what was their respected denomination's stance on affirming persons with either mental or physical disabilities? The second, a personal story or reflection indicating their role as an advocate, ally, or activist for someone who has a disability.

I made sure to include statistics of why this should matter to those in our congregations and began unpacking some of the language those attending would need to familiarize themselves with; such as the concept of ableism and the difference between disabilities and handicaps. This was done to help show how important language is around this topic and its impact of helping faith communities make positive steps forward in a much-needed discussion. I used a quote Nancy Eiesland and found myself referencing her book The Disabled God quite a few times. My intent of using Eiesland was to provoke the idea of encountering, experiencing or seeing God in a new way. I then showed a few works of art which suggested this, Whirlwheel by Olivia Wise and The Disabled God at the University of Stellenbosch. I even used an example of a more inclusive liturgy with a congregational response (if time permitted, I would have asked us as a group to read this aloud to one another). Finally, I showed some diagrams suggesting different approaches to worship spaces which would be accessible to those with disabilities and other adjustments that would need to be considered for full inclusion such as pew placement, lecterns and microphone accessibility, adequate lighting for those that read lips, etc…I showed images of Salvage Garden in Greensboro, NC and spoke of Jean Vanier and the L’Arche communities as tangible inclusive spaces.   

I began to hear a theme from those attending around “change and implementation.” One young woman shared a story of the shortening of pews in her church to accommodate those with wheelchairs. She had been at her church for three years and had seen the process come to completion, but it had taken ten years for it happen! The faces in the room with me that day seemed to ask. “Surely we can do better than that?”

Reflecting

Weeks later I made it a point to go back and speak with the other ministers who joined me that day to see if they had picked up on any other themes I might have missed. I asked several questions of them including how they felt the presentation went and was there anything not discussed or something they wished was discussed in more detail. The feedback I received was helpful and affirming of the need for this discussion to take place. Wes Pitts informed me that the presentation and the other speakers I brought in were “thought-provoking.” However, he saw the hour-long time frame as too constrictive for any deep conversation to occur. He related to me, “I thought it did a good job of hitting on multiple topics and getting people to think deeply about their own or their denomination's approach to disability.” When speaking to Wes I got the impression he picked up on the theme I sensed as well dealing with how we began to cultivate space and shift congregational awareness. When I asked him what he thought of those that attended the event he said, “I was disappointed, but not surprised, that there was low attendance. It speaks to the church's engagement of disability care/welcome more broadly. Those that were there seemed to be deeply engaged and promoted healthy dialogue and asked good questions.” Anita Laffoon echoed some of Wes’s statements, but also added she appreciated something he had said during his talk about the Presbyterian Church and their idea of worship. “I was fascinated with the Presbyterian order that says that a service can only be considered worship if all are able to attend. I would love to delve into that and see what it looks like on a practical level in Baptist life.” Anita was the other fellow CBF minister in the group besides me. Her being there and familiarity with CBF life and what takes place at these types of gatherings was insightful. She was there the entire weekend and personally told me she enjoyed our session the best. When talking about the other sessions she visited that weekend she added, “Yours was challenging and I liked that.” Where Wes picked up on the size of the group being an indication of an apparent lack of empathy for those with disabilities, Anita enjoyed the smaller size and noticed the conversation morphing into something bigger. “I noticed that every time we focused on one particular group with its unique challenges someone invited us to consider another group with different challenges. I loved how being inclusive to a small group was ballooning into being inclusive of all,” she said. Shakeisha Gray too thought the time frame was too short and wished we, “could have spoken a bit more about what their denominational policies are and if they see people with disabilities serving in ministerial and leadership capacities, not just as members of their congregations. If we aren't seeing people with disabilities in these roles, then we aren't doing ministry right! It helps foster and support people with disabilities exemplify how they are capable of leadership and service.” When I asked her about a vibe or theme she noticed from those who attended she said, “The vibe was definitely laid back, but the audience didn't engage as much as I hoped they would, although I saw some people nod, no one really asked questions, which is unfortunate because I know the amount of work that went into the presentation and the amount of knowledge that was in the room. However, it could also be that those interested in this topic, are already doing this kind of work. It did come up that our respective denominations are all trying, in their own ways, to be more supportive of those with disabilities.” This point was well taken as afterward when I was speaking to a gentleman who attended the session he informed me that his son has a disability and the reason he attends Knollwood Baptist is because of their willingness to include his son in their congregation. I can't say enough how much I appreciate Shakeisha being there as a person who has a disability herself, her story and her presence was crucial to the conversation.

One of my regrets this semester was not being able to attend Camp Barnabas with Carrilea Hall. Carrilea came and spoke about her experience at this camp and gave her Methodist perspective. She too enjoyed the variety of voices at the session, but was quick to add, “The only thing that I wanted to hear more about was perhaps more theology and pushing the bounds of our typical way of thinking about God and disability.”

Final Thoughts

This process was both fulfilling and taxing at the same time. I often found myself becoming hopeful and frustrated. When it comes to change within a faith community it appears a minority are intrigued enough to support said change, but others seemed to push back with a resisting “why?” I don’t know if I want to label those who do this as selfish, but I believe their lack of exposure to the issue prevents them from seeing why a change is needed.

I believe CBF as a whole needs to adopt a statement and resources advocating for those with disabilities, I confess I’m a little jaded with how they, and institutional bodies in general, are slow moving dinosaurs when it comes to change. I know that I can continue to bring this issue up at both the state and national level, but see my best chance at achieving this at the local level within my own church. If a sustainable, dare I say thriving model, could be achieved on such level it would be hard to be overlooked by the powers that be. I believe it will take our story being partnered with other church’s stories for change to occur.   

We’re in this together.

Eco-Priest? A Clergy's Response to the Anthropocene.

A Letter to the Modern Church,

With the end of the semester, my seminary experience is entering into its last stage. In the 6 years of serving alongside folks in two congregations, and with most of that time being in higher education, I have been in a part-time or bi-vocational role. A major question that looms in my future is how will I transition from that role to one which is full time? I’ve received many solid recommendations at how to achieve this from other ministers and mentors I have surrounded myself with over the years. Churches often combine responsibilities which redefined associate pastors duties. A youth pastor might also oversee a young adult or a college age ministry. Someone gifted in administration might become a Minister of Administration or Education.  For churches with large Family Life Centers that host different basketball leagues, yoga classes, and avid walking clubs, etc...it wouldn’t be hard to convince anyone that a Minister of Recreation would be beneficial for scheduling events, dealing with insurance companies, and making sure all building requirements are meeting safety codes.

Yet, what if you don’t feel called to any of those areas?  Are these older titles limiting? Where is there room in the modern church for re-imagined possibilities? For someone like myself, I want to explore new ways to do life with parishioners. Notice I don’t use the term ministry here. I wouldn’t label what I do now as “ministry.” To say that I have a personal ministry sounds pretentious. I simply have a life, and this is a life I want to spend working, serving, and experiencing alongside people. I’ve thought about what I’d like to do and ways I’d like to see the church grow. And trust me; I’m not talking about growing our numbers. I’d like to see us grow in our compassion towards all of God’s creation. We do well at loving on each other most of the time, although there are some horror stories that take place in churches. The creation I’m referring to is something that we’ve separated ourselves from for far too long. By neglecting creation, humanity has allowed the world, God’s creation, to suffer in ways that have produced watershed moments. What’s a watershed moment? I’m glad you asked.

Marriage is a watershed moment. Having a child is a watershed moment. Moses standing in front of the burning bush and feeling God’s presence is a watershed moment. Such moments produce a turning point experience. You can’t go back and everything moving forward is completely new and different. From my own seminary experience, a watershed moment occurred when I began to see biblical reconciliation from an entirely different perspective. It was in this class entitled Field, Table, Communion and Tree of Life: Christianity, Climate Change, and Ecological Vocation that I discovered other “theologians” I had never experienced before. No Barth, Schleiermacher, or von Harnack. Instead, I was properly introduced to Wendell Berry, Wes Jackson, and Ellen Davis. In this space, I found myself eager to drink from a new perspective and source I hadn’t been privy to before while simultaneously being humbled that such a gaping hole was present in my theological education. These works wetted my appetite and I found myself wanting to learn more. I picked up books dealing with creation care and the intersection between humanity’s role as caregivers in this process. Issues surrounding “land and soil” became a focal point for me, and from there, the issue of humanity’s impact on the earth. In other words, what scholarly folk are labeling the anthropocene.  This realization that humanity has caused such offense to the other living species on the planet is not up for debate. Instead of co-creating with God, humanity has chased self-preservation and glorification which has led to the eradication of certain plants and animals.

A question which I believe when we come together as a church is what are we actually doing as God’s people about this? Should the church engage this differently than the rest of the world, or is the church simply playing catch-up? In the words of Wendell Berry, “The great question that hovers over the issue, one that we have dealt mainly by indifference, is the question of what people are for”. I hope the church can be a place where this question can be worked out.

Covenant language is nothing new to Christians. We often think of Jesus at the Last Supper giving his disciples a new covenant. We might also be familiar with the covenant that God made with Abraham. However, we often overlook the first covenant God establishes with humanity. Often referred as the Noahic covenant, God, after flooding the earth, speaks to Noah and his family and ensures them Godself will never raise up the waters to flood and destroy humanity again. “This is a sign of the covenant that I make between me and you and every living creature that is with you for all future generations. I have set my bow in the sky clouds and it shall be a sign of the covenant between me and the earth.” (Gen. 9: 12-13) Kinda changes the notion of a rainbow in the sky doesn’t it? God essentially hangs up or lays down, a weapon. Humanity is now in covenant with God. This first relationship points humanity to practices socially and ethically appropriate with each other, but not only with each other, with every living creature.

If God laid down a weapon in Genesis, humanity seemingly has picked one up in its practices towards the environment. While guns might affect person to person relationship, modern farming techniques have decimated the soil at an alarming rate. This has not been without consequence. As industrialization has evolved into the 20th and 21st centuries, agricultural practices have adapted in order to adjust to issues related to climate change. In 2014 the US Global Change Research Program released an assessment through a series of reports dealing with modern climate change since the year 1990.  The report, “Observed changes over the last century include increasing average temperatures, increasing weather variability, warmer nights and winters, a lengthening of the growing season and an increase in the frequency and intensity of extreme weather events.” Of course many view this through an apathetic lens. In certain parts of the world, the change seems so miniscule that a need for any sort of modification or new practices seems irrelevant. While a couple of degrees might seem small as far a climate change is concerned, it will impact the earth more than just people having to pay a higher electricity bill in the summer months and an applying an extra layer of sun block while resting outside the pool. While the current occupiers of this world might not see the direct impact of climate change our children and grandchildren most certainly will.

I once read a story about a German farmer from the upstate New York area, Klass Marten. Marten had been a farmer his entire life and because of the constant need to produce bigger yield year after year, turned to many different pesticides in order to ensure his crop output was optimal. One day Klass's right arm stopped working. After visiting a doctor who only seemed to want and prescribe muscle relaxers and other forms of pain medication, Klass and his wife Mary-Howell knew that medications weren’t the answer to the problem; it was the stuff they sprayed on their large farm in order to control the weeds. Klass stopped using chemicals on his crops and became a pioneer in the field of organic growing. Once during a gathering of those who consider themselves part of the sustainable organic farming guild, Klass posed a question which he himself had heard from a Mennonite bishop; when do you start raising a child? The answer is a hundred years before they are born because that’s when you start building the environment they’re going to live in.

I sat in class at the beginning of the year and heard Dr. Miles Silman of Wake Forest University, biology professor and self-described forest ecologist, as he shared with me and my classmates that the shoreline of North Carolina was going to look drastically different in the next one hundred to two hundred years. The outer banks will be submerged under water. Think about that for a second. No more Kitty Hawk the place where aviation was born. No more Ocracoke, the Lost Colony story will include a lost land that now exists underwater. These places will exist in memory, just stories where our descendents can hear and read about but be unable to visit. I remember Professor Silman and his map showing the projections of the coast line. Raleigh and the rest of Wake County would become ocean front property. My wife and I spent several years in the Raleigh area, the idea of stepping out onto Hillsborough Street, the few miles of pavement that runs through the North Carolina State University campus, and being within walking distance of a beach is mind boggling. Losing landmarks is one thing, but the other side of this climate change coin is just as severe; it’s going to affect what we eat, how much we eat, and what we can grow. That is where we are heading and I admit with data looking this way I start to feel a sort of helplessness with what I could possibly do to help change our current course.

Environmental issues are rarely spoken of from a pulpit, usually listed as being more political than anything else. I want to help change this notion. As my studies have progressed I, like Miles Silman, Klaas Marten, and Laura Lengnick, see the need to lend a voice as to why this deserves our utmost attention. While the individuals I just mentioned are scientists, farmers, and activists, I wish to represent the faith element of this conversation. I am not the first person who has wanted to do such work. Saint Francis of Assisi, Ecumenical Patriarch Bartholomew, and Pope Francis have all declared the need for those claiming a Christian faith to be advocates of the natural world. Pope Francis in his encyclical letter entitled Laudato Si’ informs his readers, “Humanity still has the ability to work together in building our common home.” This language, our common home, brings up a shared commonality missing from the current culture we presently reside in. Like the Pope, I believe humanity still has the ability to make a positive difference towards creation.

By now you may be thinking, sure, the church should take steps in helping. However, where would we as a community even start? The realization that climate change is real and its impact on all of creation, humanity included, is the mindset we must come to. Humanity, and the church has abdicated its position as stewards of this land to other entities. In the book of Ephesians, the apostle Paul instructs the young church that they're not fighting against an enemy or problem of flesh and blood; their fight is with powers and principalities. (Ch.6:12) We must not reduce climate change and the influence it plays in our treatment and care of the natural world to nothing more than a mere spectacle instead of the arduous issue it is really is; a deception that we have allowed ourselves to be subjected to by powers and principalities.

I do not presume the neglecting of the earth is something humanity set out to do intentionally. I often imagine in these instances a sailboat on the waters. One must be in a constant state of engagement with the steering wheel which moves the rudder and navigates the ship's destination. When a sailor lets go of the wheel for a long enough time he or she might end up in a place they never intended to be. This is what I speculate has happened concerning climate change. In the last century with the advancements of technology and the need to produce more and more at the most efficient rate, humanity lost control over the wheel and now we are just starting to realize how far off course we have gone.

To correct our mistake we must first acknowledge, or in other words, repent of what has been allowed to take place in the name of progress. Only then can we begin the process of dialoguing with others who have realized the same in hopes of implementing positive changes on both an individual and collective level. This is where I feel as a faith leader I am called to act. If the church wishes to reclaim its identity as being a moral compass in the community, what better way than recognizing and appointing someone to engage this issue directly? We have leadership in different areas already, such as a minister of music, education, and children. Why not have a minister of ecology or creation care? In a time where the church is trying to figure out what she is to a postmodern society this could be a step which actively addresses an important issue, and given the very nature of such a calling, this work would need to be conducted outside of the buildings and walls which have led to estrangement with those who don’t attend our weekly functions. Doing this work, serving as a steward, would mean we would connect with our community and have the opportunities to truly know our neighbors and them us. Would this manifest itself in a community garden? Perhaps. Or would this change start there and move into different parishioners backyards? Instead of inviting folks to the church to see our garden which might become another jewel in the crown for us to feel good about, wouldn’t it be better to invite people over to our homes to sit at large farm tables right outside gardens that families and friends helped construct?

 What I am proposing is something new, and yet it is a call to do something very old. Others are doing this work already, both in and outside of the church. My hope is you are moved enough to see the need for change yourself and for our church. Google some of the names I mentioned and began reading what is being said concerning how climate change affects all forms of agriculture and what we as people can do about it. Lean into our identity in Christ. It was Christ, who taught in the Temple, yet often ended up in the wilderness when he wished to pray and connect with God the Father. Entering the wilderness and engaging with nature, we, like Christ, have the ability to enter holy spaces. This is the promise of authentic freedom one can find in God’s creation. In some ways, it’s like going home.

From the wilderness,

~tBSB

Redefining Deprivation

This past month marks a full year since I launched blacksheepbaptist.com

So much has changed in that time frame, the arrival of a kid is the most life changing for sure.

In the next couple of weeks, I will finish a few papers and officially enter into my last year of divinity school at Wake Forest. Has it really been two years since Lauren and I moved to Winston-Salem? I often get sympathetic looks from folks when I explain my current life stage. “Yes, I’m a graduate student. Yes, I work two jobs. Yes, I’m a new parent….” Somewhere in the conversation they usually hit me with this, “My goodness, how do you get everything done?”

My answer: You just do.

Through preparation or procrastination, papers get done. Through heavy coursework at school, job responsibilities still get done. Through late night diaper changes, early morning readings with coffee still happen (all of this is done with a heavy dose of spousal support). How do I manage to make all this semi-work and, at times, even thrive?

Discipline.  

Now before you think I’m a typical “type A” over-organized individual, let me assure you I’m not. I imagine I, like most people, have things they do extremely well. For me, it happens to be academic work (Lord knows I’ve been in school long enough to know what works and what doesn’t). For me, academics pertaining to what some would call ministry is important. When I get up early or stay up late I don’t feel as if I’m depriving myself of anything since I’m spending time doing something I enjoy. Spending time with my family is an even a better example.

But what about the things I’m not crazy about. Now that’s a completely different story.

Up until the time I met Lauren, I would become infatuated for several months with hitting the gym. When we met I was on a routine of heading to the gym early with a good friend for a 6am workout. I enjoyed lifting weights and the camaraderie it brought. Plus, I thought because I was lifting and doing some cardio I could eat pretty much what I wanted. This cycle went on from the time I was in my mid-twenties, but as I got older and my schedule and responsibilities changed I found less and less time to go to the gym. Like many a newlywed, I watched myself put on 35 pounds over a five year period. Poor meal choices and little to no exercise was the culprit. I felt like crap and watched some of my favorite outfits get shoved deeper and deeper into the back of our closet.  I tried getting back in shape, even as early as this past summer when I signed up for Crossfit. But a limiting budget and a hectic work and school schedule made it easy to walk away from after 3 months. This past Christmas I stepped on a scale and was confronted with a weight I’m pretty sure I had never been at before.

I knew I needed a change. Two things happened with spurred me on; a close friend’s close call with heart failure (it’s a very real moment when you do a hospital visit and the person is your age) and the approaching due date of Violet. However, this time around I didn’t run to the gym. I ran to the one place where I knew I had little to no discipline…my dinner plate. I began a life-altering eating plan which has made me conscious of everything I put in my mouth. I track each bite through an app and weigh myself twice a day. I’ve heard many people say you shouldn’t “tie yourself to the scale”, but in my experience, this is how I keep myself accountable. It may not be for everyone, but it works for me. Here at the beginning of May, I’m down 30lbs and I’m closing in on my goal weight.  Why was this time different? The only thing I can say in regards to that is I just decided that this time it was going to be different. I put my time and focus into this much like I do with my school work and the success I saw in the classroom made its way onto the scale.

Scripture speaks of the importance of discipline. The books of Hebrews, 1st Corinthians, and Titus have verses stressing the importance. I’ve looked at them in a new light in the last few months and seen that discipline is needed in all areas of my life and not just the ones I deem as important. I often thought about the time when Jesus proclaimed in Matthew Chapter 11 that his "yoke was easy and his burden was light" I kinda saw the opposite, but the longer I'm on this yoke of being aware of what I put in my body I see how "light" it really is. Jesus is saying that when you come along beside me, what was once hard and difficult won't seem that way for long. I'm not trying to compare picking up one's cross to picking up one's fork...yet then again, maybe I am? 

Every now and then when I decline a doughnut or something sweet when I’m out with friends I get asked why I didn’t partake. I try and explain and sometimes I get hit with, “But one doughnut isn't gonna hurt you” or "Do you really have to deprive yourself like this?” You see this is where deprivation needs to be redefined and, in this case, I’m the one who gets to define it. Deprivation is me not being able to wear the jeans I want. Deprivation is me getting winded way too fast when I play with the students at the church. Deprivation would be me continuously making unhealthy life choices while my daughter grows older. I don’t feel deprived at all not being able to eat a large bowl of spaghetti. If anything I feel freer than I have in a long time. Even if that means I'm only able to have one round of Guinness at the pub. Cheers to that one round, amen.  

Enter Violet: A Father's Perspective.

My daughter Violet is 8 weeks old today.

Time has slowed and quickened depending on which day you ask me. Everything has changed. From the smallest task to a love between two individuals which suddenly manifests itself into three...nothing is the same.

And for this I’m thankful.

What I’m about to share is my story. My wife Lauren has her own and it will be hers to tell when she wants and to whom she wants if she ever wishes to do so. The birthing process is traumatic. While I would never dream of comparing what a woman goes through in labor to her spouse’s experience of witnessing such an act, I will say it was one of the most difficult things I’ve ever had to endure physically, emotionally, and spiritually.

Lauren was in labor somewhere in the neighborhood of 35 hours. Because of numerous reasons, it came to the point where her doctor recommended a cesarean. Again, speaking from my perspective, I had not planned for this. Standing in a room listening to what the next steps were going to be my mind was more reactionary than anything. Reflecting back now, I don’t believe I fully comprehended what was going to happen. I was entering into the “great unknown” with no references from which to pull from.

While Lauren was being prepped, I was given a set of scrubs and told to wait in the hall (I managed well enough until I got to the beard, at which time I had to don a second cap, inverted, to cover the facial hair). I sat in that hallway for what felt like an eternity. I watched hospital personnel come and go, some acknowledging my existence while others hurried past. When someone finally called my name and brought me into the room I was shocked at how many people were in there. Before being able to do a headcount, I was escorted over to Lauren and placed on a small stool beside her head. From her chest down a curtain had been drawn to prohibit her, and me, from watching the surgical teamwork.

As the birth of Violet began to unfold, so much happened and most of it was far from pleasant, but again, that is Lauren’s story to tell. All I feel comfortable with sharing is that as a spouse my role was to be as present and as affirming as I could while watching what appeared as organized chaos commence around me. They say every birthing story is unique, and Violet’s certainly was. So many variables come into play and sometimes you don’t know what you’ll do until you’re presented with certain circumstances.

With my head beside Lauren’s, I watched her fight pain and nausea as nurses and the like moved back and forth and discussed everything from medications to such trivial things as lunch menus. Thinking back, I’m aware that for those who work in hospitals, this scenario is something they do every day. My critique of their competency is that I wished they realized this scene for Lauren or I was anything but “normal.” Understanding that I believe would do a lot towards patient care in medical practice settings.

I remember them asking if I wanted to peek above the curtain to see Violet enter this world and I declined. I do not regret this decision. In that moment my entire being was transfixed on Lauren. She had been through so much and to watch her continue was both encouraging and heartbreakingly excruciating. I’ve always known I loved my wife, I would do anything for her, but watching her go through this broke me. I would never categorize myself as the macho type looking to solve all types of problems or too proud to show emotion, yet in the moment I realized I had little power to do anything; a true recognition of helplessness. Besides holding her hand and stroking her face I could do nothing but watch in the hope that those in the room with me knew what they were doing.

Enter Violet. Up from the depths she arose from a baptism of water and blood, a shared act we humans never fully recover from. She was shown to us and quickly swept away to an adjacent table where she was weighed, cleaned, and “beat the hell out of.” At least it appeared that way. Massaging in the hopes of coaxing her along to take in air and push it out. She cried slightly but was strangely quiet, something she hasn’t been since. After sucking out fluid she was swaddled and handed to me with a small toboggan (for you northern folks, it’s a hat) on her head with plenty of hair sticking out from the back.

Let’s be clear, she was perfect. Through her Ilotycin smeared eyes she looked at me and our bond was sealed. She was half of me and yet she had all of me. Holding her I leaned in to show her to Lauren, bringing her close so she could see a face that looked so much like her own. The doctor, nurses, and anesthesiologist team were still attending to her, so I, the most unprepared for this moment, was left to hold Violet in my right arm while simultaneously placing my free hand on Lauren’s arm as she continued to have negative reactions to the medications she had been given.

Afterward while Lauren was being moved from the birthing room to the recovery unit, we had a short moment to ourselves in the hall. I tried to choke back tears that flowed effortlessly. Some tears of joy, but mostly tears of concern for her. Going through this had solidified how much Lauren means to me. I don’t mean to sound cliché, but while I know it would be possible, I can’t imagine doing life without her. She has simply become a part of me that I recognize as the best of me.

Now here we are, 2 months later. Violet cries, she eats, and she poops...and she’s beginning to smile. Some people say that it’s the crying of a baby that breaks them, but for me it’s her smile. There’s wonder and hope found in those moments. There is a swelling of compassion that causes me to question all the artificial moments I’ve tried to create in my life over the years. This child is real. The love I have for her and her mother is real. I couldn’t have experienced this without them.

And for this too, I am forever thankful.

A Missed Opportunity: #lynchburgrevival

This past weekend a revival was held in Lynchburg, Virginia on the doorsteps of the largest Christian educational institution in the United States, Liberty University. It was an event helped put together by Shane Claiborne, as self-prescribed Evangelical Christian and who many consider a leader in the new monasticism movement. Claiborne burst into the Christian pop culture limelight in the mid-2000s with his book The Irresistible Revolution. Since then Claiborne has continued to write, be an activist through his anti-death penalty stance, and demonstrate a communal lifestyle through his work in North Philadelphia with his organization “The Simple Way.” I’ve been a fan of Claiborne since the beginning. His east Tennessee southern draw and almost unapologetic “aw-shucks country-ness” was a fresh voice in a time where most associated with the term Evangelical were more known for their political leanings instead of their religious affiliation. And honestly, Claiborne was just doing something different. I mean driving around on a book tour in a grease-powered “veggie bus” is just cool.

Claiborne, and others known as Red Letter Christians, had planned the #lynchburgrevival in response to the message(s) they felt were anti-Gospel coming from Liberty University’s president Jerry Falwell Jr. Falwell has said A LOT in his time as the head of the university. Prompting students to carry firearms on campus, to his continuous alignment and support of U.S. President Donald Trump on issues ranging from immigration to Falwell’s defense of sexual allegations charges being brought against Trump. Claiborne has been vocal with his criticism of Falwell, unabashedly at times. Yet, on the eve of the revival, Claiborne reached out to Liberty and Falwell in hopes to have a prayer vigil on their campus, uniting people from both the school and those showing up for the rally. Falwell and Liberty responded with an official notice that if any vigil took place there would be consequences ranging from fines to arrest. So much for reconciliation…

I found myself wondering while all this played out; is anyone really surprised with this outcome?

I’m not a supporter of Falwell, finding myself sitting in the Claiborne camp more often than not. However, all this reeks of grandstanding from both sides. Falwell flexes his muscles, citing the safety of his students and Shane prophesies that all he was aiming to do was share the Gospel message in Lynchburg. Claiborne even says that in the letter he sent Falwell he asked if the two could pray together and informed Falwell that he'd been praying for him all this time. Claiborne and fellow RLC Tony Campolo even collected prayer cards that will be sent to the Falwell family after the event. All this sounds sincere from both sides and yet…

Citing the safety of students from what was aimed as a prayer vigil seems absurd. Falwell has been on Claiborne’s radar for some time and probably didn’t want a potentially embarrassing confrontation to occur on his campus aka his own backyard. And Claiborne can confess brotherly love all he wants, but come on…these tweets don’t seem to express those feelings. 

Do I think the things that Falwell spews are heretical and toxic? Absolutely, but...

Saying you're praying for someone after blasting them continously is like a sweet old church lady giving you the buiness on everything from your hair color choice to your "clearly wrong stance" on LGBTQ/Gun control/Abortion (take your pick) and after the verbal lashing leans in and says, "I'm praying for you hon." It just comes across as presumptuous and inauthentic. Rest assured Claibornes' not concerned for Falwell, but concerned about Falwell.

Here was a chance for something beautiful to happen. I just think egos and agendas on BOTH sides got in the way.

Shame.

Marching Backwards: Guest Writer Emily Davis

Recently, with the Cooperative Baptist Fellowship’s decision regarding the Illumination Project, I’ve found myself recalling several stories I’ve heard from my mother. During her time at Southeastern Baptist Theological Seminary in the mid-‘80s, she too felt the feelings that I am feeling now, though in somewhat of a different manner. Since being raised by a female Baptist minister, I’ve long acknowledged the importance and significance of the Cooperative Baptist Fellowship. Without their leadership and guidance, my mom would not be serving her twenty-third year in her congregation, and I would not be preparing to graduate Divinity school in two short months. Without the Cooperative Baptist Fellowship, there would be many women who have felt the familiar tugs of callings into ministry, who would have found themselves having to do something else, because of the decision from others to discredit the voices of female ministers. Recently, I’ve wondered just where we would be without the voices of our female Baptist ministers. The split from the Southern Baptist Convention, as I’ve heard, was a painful one, yet as we sit on the cusp of three decades later, I fear that the feelings of a new split are upon us.

With CBF’s Illumination Project decision, we are yet again repeating similar narratives from the mid to late ‘80s. CBF’s Illumination Project states that we have adopted a “Christ-centered hiring policy,” yet I find myself among many others wondering what exactly can be Christ-centered if all persons are not welcome to the table. While the hiring policy may have been removed, the implementation procedures are where the true intentions are revealed. Regarding the calling of CBF field personnel, “CBF will send field personnel who have the gifts and life experiences required for the most faithful ministry in the particular setting … and who practice a traditional Christian sexual ethic of celibacy in singleness or faithfulness in marriage between a woman and a man.” This exclusion sounds eerily similar to the Southern Baptist Convention’s belief that “Scripture teaches that a woman’s role is not identical to that of men in every respect, and that pastoral leadership is assigned to men.” Unfortunately, it seems we Baptists have yet to learn from our painful histories of exclusion. I find the outcome of the Illumination Project no different than the Southern Baptist Convention decision to exclude women. In fact, I somehow find it worse, because those of us who are a part of the Cooperative Baptist Fellowship—especially us women, should know exactly the pain that was felt when we were excluded. We as the Cooperative Baptist Fellowship should know better and be better because of our painful beginnings of seeking to include women to the pulpit.

Now, we’re facing that same exclusion again, as we refuse to be a part of including those in the LGBTQIA community that God has called. We of all people should know what it means to seek for inclusion for all of our siblings in Christ, as we once sought for that inclusion of women. Yet, we’ve failed. The feelings of hurt, and pain, and anger will continue to linger. We cannot ignore the discrimination and blatant homophobia that is hidden behind the words “Christ-Centered hiring policy.” For a denomination that began on the premise of including those so desperately searching for a chair at the table, we certainly seem to be kicking the legs out from under the chairs that Jesus placed for all. The Cooperative Baptist Fellowship has been my home for the majority of my life, so it is painful to hear these words, and even more painful to write them. It is my hope, that we Baptists will continue the pattern of dissent, that our local churches will hire those in the LGBTQIA community that have the same callings of sacred holiness, and move towards becoming a Christ-Centered denomination that focuses on the beauty of our differences, given to us by the Creator that has set all of us to love one another.

Dismantling Our Own Echo Chamber.

About every two weeks or so I, and a couple other local ministers, host a small gathering of spiritual seekers at a local watering hole in the community where we serve. The group is eclectic is some ways, while predictable in others. The group is comprised of several different faith communities, mostly of the mainline Protestant variety. The age difference has range, but we are a lily white group (I’d love to see that change in the future).  One contributor always brings something “she just threw together” for us to snack on while the owner of the establishment pours spirits from behind the bar. We have met now going on two years and have formed a trusting bond with one another.

You have to have trust when you talk about difficult things. Over the course of time, we have touched on mental health, assisted suicide, gun control, nationalism, mass shootings, race relations within our country/community, the entire mess that was the 2016 election, confederate statues, etc…These conversations have been hard for some, and I hope I and the other clergy present have done a fair enough job facilitating the conversations and provided a space where people can speak freely while knowing their thoughts will be heard and not attacked. Some weeks we do a better job than others.

Recently a conversation came about concerning the role of the faith leader in their community. It centered on proclamation, what Baptist might call preachin’. The topic that night spurred the question of faith leader’s responsibility to speak honestly and open with their people. To use Christian terminology, a pastor’s job on Sunday should be to speak prophetically to the congregation. Perhaps a better example might be that through proclamation a pastor should speak authoritatively on issues concerning injustice in order to move their congregation towards compassionate action. It was this thought that caused one of the newer attendees to ask those who were clergy, why doesn’t clergy address certain issues from the pulpit? An important question and one I have found myself asking for quite some time. This opened up some interesting dialogue from those there. One of the other clergy members present said something to the effect of when they preached or communicated with their congregation it an attempt to approach them in such a way that wouldn’t cause them to automatically shut down from what was being said. This was explained in some detail, but for the person who initially posed the question, that wasn’t a good enough answer. They explained that they themselves were the leader of a faith community and saw it as a requirement to tell their congregation the hard truths with as little sugar coating as possible. That, they said, was the responsibility of a faith leader and clergy owe this to their respected congregation.

Back and forth the conversation went until finally my minister friend admitted what all clergy know to be true. If I said everything I truly wanted, I’d probably be fired. That’s real. That’s a feeling present every Sunday morning. It’s an unspoken truth. What followed was the expected; being in ministry ain’t about the money.

Of course it isn’t. However, pastors have families that need to eat and utility bills needing to be paid just like everybody else (I could write another blog on the mindset of some to keep a pastor poor and humble, but that’s another blog for another time). This made sense for some, and I would argue most parishioners already know this dynamic. However, the new attendee didn’t see being fired as a reason to not say what was obviously true and right. Fair enough. When questioned how they were able to accomplish this in their own setting, a story unfolded where, at least to me, it made perfect sense. This person was part of a certain denomination that historically is very progressive on certain issues. This denomination has offered sanctuary to those who have been fed up with the legalism of more conservative faith communities. This person left a space where they felt they had no voice and found others who shared their same ethical understandings on issues. There is nothing wrong with this as people naturally want to be in community with those who have the same values as themselves. While this explanation was being given I thought of my own call into congregational ministry. “God, how great would it be to speak into people’s lives and have them affirm what I already know to be right and true?”

I than realized I don’t have that luxury.

To me, being a pastor is more than preachin’ on Sunday morning. It’s walking with people through the ups and downs of life. It’s being with them when they or their children get married, or when their family member passes suddenly. It’s sharing a pack of Nabs on the way back from a small country store because it’s where they’ve bought them since they were a kid and “you really have to see this place.” It’s popping into the hospital to see how someone’s relative you don’t even know is doing. It’s helping their aging parents move furniture into their new home. It’s writing a letter of recommendation for a student who got a speeding ticket. Its sipping moonshine with the person you had pegged as a teetotaler. All of this helps build relationships that overtime produces trust. And let me tell you, people are apt to hear you better when they trust you then when they don’t. As a pastor I shouldn’t be able to say whatever the hell I want just because I think its right. If I share a message where God seems to line up with everything I think is to be true, I’m pretty sure it’s not God who’s saying it. I’m not preaching the Gospel message, but the gospel according to me. Could I surround myself with people who amen’d everything I said? Probably. But, for me, it seems more fitting and even natural to step behind a pulpit a see faces that I know don’t agree with me or I with them. It makes me think about what I actually want to say. I have to be deliberate with my words in order to reach people who I know will struggle with what I have to say. I have to respect and trust them just like they do me. This is the kind of space that produces growth. Being around folks that look like you, talk like you, and think like you might feel good. Echo chambers tend to have that effect.

Pastors need to sit with all kinds of people. In the 11 chapter of Luke’s Gospel account, Jesus is invited to dinner by a Pharisee. For those that don’t know, Pharisees were the group of religious leaders who followed Jesus around and questioned everything he said, rebuking him at every chance they got along the way. Growing up, I understood the Pharisees to be the “bad guys” in the Jesus story. And yet here is Jesus, the same guy who during the Sermon on the Mount promised a kingdom made for the poor in spirit and for those who would be peacemakers, accepting an invitation to sit with those who his followers considered then, and today, to be the “bad guys.” I’m starting to think Jesus didn’t accept that invitation because he intended to upstage his host in their own home. I think he took it because he loved this Pharisee just as much as he loved his disciples…

In closing, I’ll say I’m guilty of this. I love seeing heads nodding more than I do them swaying side to side. My desire is to try and hold relationships that cross all sorts of boundaries. If you’re in a certain camp on an issue I challenge you to find someone who represents the opposite view. Sit with them and hear their perspective. Find what you do have in common. Meet their family. Share a meal with them. Afterwards, it’ll make it harder to lump them into the category of people who are just wrong on whatever said issue is.

I’m talking to you intellectual progressives.  

And to you conservative patriots.

As you were,

~tBSB

Expanding the Table: How do we Accommodate Those in our Communities with Disabilities?

Short & sweet.

Later this month at the Cooperative Baptist Fellowship Annual Gathering here in Winston-Salem, I have the opportunity to present on the subject of CBF churches being spaces of advocacy for those in our communities with either physical or mental disabilities. As of now, CBF has no official statement on the matter.

How do I know this?

Last semester I found myself in a class entitled Theology and Disability, an eyebrow-raising course to say the least. One of my assignments was to provide my denomination’s resources, only I couldn’t find any…Odd, right?

At first, I thought this might have something to do with local autonomy. Baptist congregations possess the first and last word on the actions of their churches, and perhaps the vagueness I was discovering was the result of such. Yet, on further investigation, I discovered American Baptist and even the Southern Baptist Convention have statements regarding recognition of persons with disabilities.

On March 16th at Knollwood Baptist Church I and others will share our stories around this issue. My intent is to not craft or produce a statement for CBF to adopt but, through personal narratives, declare why CBF needs to address a gaping hole in their advocacy movement. While certain churches and individuals affiliated with the Fellowship have offered supportive spaces, the “denomi-network”  as whole finds itself 25 years late to an important conversation.

I personally invite you to join a discussion concerning the need for CBF-affiliated churches to begin the process of adopting language, creating spaces, and seeking innovative worship practices in the hope of cultivating authentic advocacy for those with physical and mental disabilities.

Come and listen. Come and be heard.

See you at the Gathering.

~tBSB

A Humanist Welcomes the Call to Chaplaincy

I keep saying it's important to surround yourself with different voices. For a Baptist Minister, you can't get much different than a Unitarian Universalist (although Shakeisha and I have more in common than most Baptist I know...) I'm thankful for her for so many things, the first of which is her contribution to my blog while I'm embracing my new role as father to a newborn daughter, but more on that later. I'm most thankful for her friendship. My experience at Wake Forest has been made better by simply knowing her. ~tBSB

When Justin asked if I’d like to be a guest contributor for his blog, I happily agreed and knew right away what I wanted to talk about: Chaplaincy.

Some of you might be wondering how or why a Unitarian Universalist (and self-described Humanist) might address such a thing, I can only answer that from my own experiences and so that’s what this blog is about.

My “call” to chaplaincy didn’t make a sound, I heard no voice calling me to ministry, while my congregants did say, “Hey, you’d make a good minister,” it wasn’t until I had the “feeling.” When I came to divinity school almost three years ago, I was driven by an experience I had on a trip to Wales. I was standing on these cliffs overlooking the Irish Sea with the wide open sky above me and in that moment I had this overwhelming feeling of how small we were in scale to the universe. I had this realization of how insignificant, yet so interconnected humanity was to each other and our planet throughout time (not to sound too much like Doctor Who). I came to divinity school with almost four years of congregational lay leadership, so I thought my experience was directing me towards congregational ministry, but it wasn’t.

My real call, or first inclination of that feeling, came during my second year of Div School when I witnessed the spiritual transformation of a dear friend who was going through an extended unit of Clinical Pastoral Education (CPE). I recalled my mentor ministers telling me how important CPE had been to their pastoral formation so I decided to explore chaplaincy in this way and registered for an extended unit during my third year. Six months have passed since I began my chaplaincy journey and I have never been more certain of anything in my life than the fact that I am a chaplain  

and *this* is what I’m “called” to do.

It happened slowly and yet all at once with impromptu prayers, warm embraces, hand-holding, shared tears, and sweet laughs. It came in rooms; waiting rooms, pediatric rooms, nurses stations, ICU bays, hallways, in the basement conference room, and in my supervisor’s office. I was able to give it language I hadn’t thought of using before, I described this work as allowing me to be a vessel of compassion, to do the work of ministry in direct ways. There have also been times when words couldn’t describe this work and tears were the only thing that could; tears of joy, sorrow, happiness, frustration, confusion, and joy again.

Multiple emotions go into forming grief which in and of itself becomes one of our most intimate reactions to all sorts of issues you can imagine people are facing in a major trauma one university teaching hospital that also has a children’s hospital attached to it. When someone invites you, the chaplain and the stranger, into their grief, that is a sacred gift. The sacredness goes beyond any faith tradition or religious denomination, it crosses the barriers of race, class, and gender. That sacredness is something I as a chaplain can hold in space with you in your hurt and fear.

For me, a belief in God is not at the core of my ministry instead it’s a belief in our connected humanity. It does not mean I cannot find value in your belief and comfort you in ways you know and understand, it gives me a freedom to not be held back by harmful theologies and to give you in return the utmost compassion and care that comes straight from my heart and core of being. I also believe this calling as a chaplain allows me to hold people in light and love, to provide them with blessings and prayers that are not taught in books, but truly comes from the divine spark that we all share.

I am not certain of my path in a congregational setting, I am certain that right now I am loving the work and ministry of chaplaincy. I’ve just been accepted into a one year CPE residency program at Wake Forest Baptist Medical Center and I’m excited to see where this call will lead!

Illumination, Parkland, and Clueless Twits (I mean Tweets)

In the last week, three things have drawn my attention.

1)   The CBF Illumination Project proposal and outcome.

Others have submitted articles and feedback on this subject. Jim Somerville (who I shared a wonderful conversation with on the phone last week), Bill Leonard, Cody Sanders, Haley Cawthon-Freels, and Steve Wells have already offered their voices ranging from heartache to uncomfortable contentedness. I encourage you who are outside of Cooperative Baptist Fellowship circles to read these responses and Google more. I could spend the next several paragraphs outlining what the Illumination Project was called to do, how they did it, and what the results were…but again that has already been done (seriously, click on the above links). I will tell you that all of this centers on the question of CBF’s role as a “denomi-network” being a space of inclusion of those identifying as LGBTQ. The policy, and especially the implantation of the new recommended statement, has resulted in congregational findings that suggest “no.” While local Baptist churches still hold the autonomy to call who they want into positions of leadership, field personal and other leaders considered for “CBF Global” positions will have their sexuality questioned as part of the hiring process. So many emotions run through this outcome. Those I have spoken with about this are all over the spectrum. Some wanting to stay and fight from within while others are looking to walk away from CBF (much like those who started CBF walked away from the Southern Baptist Convention 25+ years ago over the inclusion of women in ministry). While all of this is troubling, here is what hit me the hardest as a local pastor; the CBF Governing Board members were just relaying the message of what they heard from local CBF churches…that most local CBF congregations are not ready.

That means that I, and pastors like myself, have not done enough to bring this issue to our congregations. That we have not shared the Gospel message of a God who “so loved the world…” That we have not been prophetic in calling to attention the needed question to those in our pews; are we as a people ready to accept, affirm, and accommodate God’s people who are LGBTQ into our midst? All the while being aware not to coerce, but encouraging true Soul Freedom.

And as much as it might be easy to stand around and point fingers at those on governing boards, the fact of the matter is it’s my fault this outcome happened. G.K. Chesterton said it best when answering the question of “what’s wrong with the world today?” he answered simply “I am.”

As Baptist, we should remember this; our dissent was not brought about from the top-down, but from the ground up. If changes are going to take place they need to happen first in our congregations. Approached from this angle, those on the governing board would have had no choice but to offer a different outcome. While some church leaders have done a great job in shepherding their congregations, I know I have work to do. Maybe you do to?

2)   The shooting which took place at Parkland High School in Florida.

29 mass shooting in 2018, this one leaving 17 dead.

To this I will say...

Yes, keep praying. Also pick up your phone and call your local representatives in order to change legislation surrounding the ability to purchase fire arms like the AR-15. Hunting rifles and handguns are one thing, but I cannot fathom the reasoning of citizens needing to purchase AR-15s and other semi-automatic weapons.

We have a gun problem “Murica.” Admit it. Repent of it. Take steps to reconcile it.

People are dying, My God, children are dying.

3)      And then there’s this…

So much could be said, but all I could come up with is this,

Members Only

The 1980s have returned in full force in modern US culture. The Netflix series Stranger Things is a smash it and the latest installment of Marvel’s Thor: Ragnarok was heavily laden with 80’s inspired synth music.

And the “Members Only” jacket is back in all its distinguishing glory.

"When you put it on...something happens."

Best. Tagline. Ever. (And certainly the most obvious, i.e. "I started my new Honda this morning and...something happened." Cheers to the Don Draper who came up with this)

The appeal of a marketed "members only" brand, however, was ingenious. Whether in the 1980s or in 2018, a symbol which indicates "who's in and who's out" will always draw a crowd.  I'm looking at you Apple, with your silly animal emojis...And while perhaps not as popular today, but certainly in the 80s, the iconic high school letter jacket. If there ever was a adolescent piece of clothing that perpetuated a distinct class system this was it.

Besides clothing, membership distinction is seen all throughout society. Think of "members dues" for social clubs. Establishments ranging from pretentious country clubs to even more pretentious dive bars require some sort of membership. Many moons ago, I had a key to the Rhino Club in Greensboro. You paid a fee and received a key to the place (I thought it was cool...I kinda still do). Again, great marketing strategy. Even Greek Life on America's college campuses requires yearly dues.

The talk of membership made its way into a conversation I was having with my students one Sunday morning. What does it take to be a church member? Before we even got going, I threw out a better question; have you ever seen anyone denied membership? I laid out the needed scenario. An individual who has been attending a church for several weeks walks the aisle during the invitation/altar call. They whisper something in the pastor's ear and, when the music ends, the pastor states that the individual wants to join the church. The congregation is then asked to solidify this acknowledgment by saying "Amen." Then comes the awkward moment when the pastor asks if there is anyone who would oppose the request. Silence. Always. Everyone claps and the new member is directed toward the doors of the church where they will be greeted with the "right hand of fellowship" by the entire congregation. Familiar story, right (at least for Baptist and other congregational churches)?

But what if that didn't happen? What if someone opposed someone else's membership?

If you didn't know, not long ago that was a common practice. To try and whittle down a large subject into a blog-sized post is daunting, and I admit there are more details then I'm touching on here. To get your questioning juices flowing, I'll leave you with this idea: Protestants needed something to replace Catholic Holy Mass & Communion (you know you are saved/belong because you take in the body and blood of Christ). The replacement had to be as rich and personal as communion, and thus became the significance of conversion. Conversion focused on the individual experience and testimony. So a few generations ago a person would come before a congregation asking to join in their fellowship. They were then asked to recount their conversion/salvation experience. If leadership saw their account to be authentic they allowed a "watch care" to take place which was covenant agreement between the person and the local church. I'll simplify this as "accountability" for both parties. After a certain amount a time, the person was allowed to become a full member of the congregation.

Now let me be clear, there is a distinction between being in the "body of Christ" vs. being a member of a local congregation/institution. Those who confess Christ is Lord are entitled to count themselves as part of the larger body of believers, however church membership deals with different requirements. First, let me tell you what it DOESN'T mean; the church keeps an eye on someone and judges every action taken in order to punish and shame. The church should not look for self-righteous works or people. INSTEAD, I see membership as another form of confession. When you join a local church you are aligning your beliefs, ideas, and causes with a collective body (everything doesn't always have to be exactly the same, but a common identity should be strived for). By becoming a member of a local church a person should feel confident in saying, “Yes, I'm on board with the vision and ministries of this church." If not, perhaps after visiting a church for several weeks and getting to know leadership, they should move on to a church where they feel their identity is more in sync. However, this often proves difficult...because if I (and maybe "we") am/are honest, churches have been notorious for not being sure what they stood for or what their purpose was. How can a church offer membership when it doesn’t know who it is?

For me, I think this raises more questions than answers. Being in seminary, I’m surrounded by a diverse body of believers (and non-believers). This space is one of inclusion, and please hear me, said space is desperately needed. And yet, is there room for discussion around exclusivity in church membership? The historical Church has never had a problem in naming heretics, establishing creeds, and orthodoxy to make the case for encompassing foundational beliefs. The Church has been handing out its own “Members Only” jackets for two millennium. If this is seen on a large scale, why hasn’t the local church been straightforward with what’s required for membership? Is leadership afraid to draw a line in the sand out of fear of alienating groups in their congregation resulting in vacant pews, or like Rob Bell, afraid of being labeled a heretic (side note: keep it up Rob, I still dig your stuff)? And yes, I understand viewing a church's website to see where they stand on some issues is helpful; such as their understanding of scripture and whether or not they affirm women and LGBTQ persons in ministry. My push back is while leadership and staff might understand the magnitude of these statements, does the rest of the congregation? To me it all boils down to this; what does it mean to be part of your church? How you answer this question is where you’ll find your membership requirement.

I didn’t come here to solve this problem. It’s much too big for one person. My hope is to raise awareness that better conversation around membership in our churches is needed. This starts with proclamation of what your local church is about. And while being a “physical representation of Christ on earth” looks nice on a coffee mug, we must be clearer about what that looks like in manifestation to our church bodies.

Guest Writer: Kenly Stewart

I want to start this post by saying it is a real honor for me to be writing for the Black Sheep Baptist Website and blog. Big shout out to my brother the Black Sheep Baptist himself, Mr. Justin Cox. I really appreciate the opportunity to share with your reader’s brother, and hopefully I don’t scare any of them away.  Full disclaimer everyone, I’m not technically a Baptist (being raised a fundamentalist Southern Baptist will do that to you).  Currently I attend an Episcopal church, but I like to consider myself a hybrid between the Episcopal and historic Baptist traditions….. an “Episco-Baptist” if you will. When Justin asked me to write for the blog I immediately said yes, but for the life of me I couldn’t figure out what I wanted to write about. Drawing upon my Baptist roots, I turned to the place with all the answers (according to evangelicals anyways), the Bible. And you know what? I found what I was looking for:

Opening up the Bible, looking for inspiration for this post, I found myself entranced by the opening verses of the Book of Habakkuk:

2 “O Lord, how long shall I cry for help,
    and you will not listen?
Or cry to you “Violence!”
    and you will not save?
3 Why do you make me see wrongdoing
    and look at trouble?
Destruction and violence are before me;
    strife and contention arise.
4 So the law becomes slack
    and justice never prevails.
The wicked surround the righteous—
    therefore judgment comes forth perverted.”

– Habakkuk 1:2-4 (NRSV)

The title of the above section is “The Prophet’s Complaint” and man did it blow me away. To be perfectly honest I am not sure I had ever read the Book of Habakkuk, and if you had asked me if it was a book of the Old Testament I would have probably said NO WAY!!! And that is the power of scripture my friends, reading it is always a surprise.

These opening verses of Habakkuk made me wrestle with the question “Is it okay to question God?” Maybe a more honest way of asking this question, “Is it okay to question an ALL powerful God?” Well if you are like me, you were raised in a church that stressed the idea of never questioning God and always being obedient. Yet Habakkuk shows us there is a biblical precedent for questioning God and voicing our “complaints.” And Habakkuk does not pull his punches!!! Habakkuk says (maybe even yells) that God refuses to “listen” and will not “save,” yet God forces him to “look at trouble” and the “destruction and violence” that surrounds him. Habakkuk is not only questioning God, he is pissed off with God.

So if a prophet of the Old Testament is allowed to question and be angry with God, it must be okay. Yet I want to take it further than simply saying it is okay to question God, I want to say it is necessary and healthy to question God. So many people get trapped in the idea (taught in church) of not questioning God that it leads to them rejecting God. And who can blame them? We are taught that we worship an all powerful but loving God but turn on the news. Look at the millions of starving and orphaned children in the world. In America we have elected officials coldly dismissing the countries these children live in as “shitholes.” To quote Habakkuk it appears “justice never prevails” and “the wicked surround the righteous.”

If we believe we cannot question God when we see the terrible and heartbreaking events around the world, no wonder it can lead to a rejection of God. If we are in a relationship with God, and we want it to grow stronger, we must be able to question God. I would also argue that not only is questioning God necessary for a mature faith, but questioning God is a mark of faithfulness. We question God when we are confronted with the wickedness of the world because we know that is not what God intends for creation. Who is the more faithful? The individual who hardens their heart in “obedience” to God to avoid questioning God? Or is the individual who pours out their hearts for their neighbors and faithfully questions God for answers?

In conclusion I humbly admit I have not solved the problem of evil, I will leave that for Justin (good luck brother). My hope is by using the Prophet Habakkuk I have encouraged you to be bold and question God when you see things that go against your understanding of God’s goodness. Yet some may still be stuck, how can we question an all powerful God? Others may ask why an all powerful God would allow these things to take place. Good questions and my answer is we need to QUESTION (see what I did there) our understanding of “an all-powerful God.” As Christians we worship an abused, crucified, and resurrected God. Our human understanding of an “all-powerful” or “superman” God is not the same as the “all-powerful God” revealed through Christ. We should also remember in one of his most human moments in the Gospels, Jesus questions why he needs to die in the Garden of Gethsemane.

So my friends my encouragement is to follow the example of Habakkuk and Jesus. Go out and serve God in love, and never be afraid to question God in love as well.

Thanks for reading,

-          Kenly Stewart