Words Of Gratitude to the Baptist Theological Seminary at Richmond

I submitted this article upon request to Wake Forest School of Divinity as an op-ed piece. I share it here for those outside the WFU community.

I submitted this article upon request to Wake Forest School of Divinity as an op-ed piece. I share it here for those outside the WFU community.

In the 1980s a cataclysmic buildup was finally coming to a head in the Southern Baptist Convention. Depending on who you ask, the “conservative resurgence” or “fundamentalist takeover” made its way from church pulpits and pews into each and every one of the seminaries associated with the denomination. For those who did not agree with the administration's new direction, their experiences were riddled with loss, sadness, anger, and uncertainty. For many years, Southern Baptists who felt a “calling” to ministry knew where their theological education would come from, yet now, those who did not adhere to biblical inerrancy and believed women were justified in seeking pastorate positions were turned away and asked to leave. During a time where denominational identity was strong, this separation left a generation of academics and clergy in exile.

In 1991 a dissenting group of Baptists helped establish a new institute of higher learning offering theological training and refuge for a people who had either been turned away or had never been given the chance. The Baptist Theological Seminary at Richmond was formed not as an antithesis to schools with dogmatic leanings, but instead as a space where Baptists, and others seeking spiritual formation, could explore their faith practising true “soul freedom.” While it was presented as one of the first alternatives, BTSR came to represent what SBC seminaries had let slip away; a place where diversity, not sameness, was cultivated in the hope of enriching all involved.

I am saddened to hear of the closing of BTSR at the end of the current academic year. While this disheartening news is attached to many different causes, the attention at this time should not be focused on the negative, but instead on the impact BTSR has provided to Baptist life by equipping servant leaders for the work of "kindom" building. Their contribution is unmeasurable and has led other institutions who claim Baptist heritage desiring to do the same. BTSR came to embody an ideal which lent itself to initiatives like the Baptist Commons here at Wake Forest School of Divinity. Their foundational work reminds us of the responsibility to meet the spiritual needs of our communities in the most authentic and meaningful ways possible.

(While not appearing in the original article submitted to WFU School of Divinity, I thought it appropriate to include this quote by Cecil Sherman which appeared in Carl Kell’s collection of essays, Exiled.)

When speaking of those who walked through the doors of BTSR, Cecil Sherman would say “I am an adjunct teacher at BTSR. They are great people. For six years I’ve watched them. They do good in the churches they serve. They do not diminish them. They are not liberal (with few exceptions). They love the Lord and go forth to serve churches. A dollar invested in this school is a dollar well spent. Dot (Sherman’s spouse) and I tithe our salary to BTSR. We believe in BTSR.”


Thank you BTSR for entrusting those identifying with the Baptist faith with your inspiring vision. Thank you for giving us something to believe in.

Millennials want authenticity from church, not red carpets and gimmicks

The above image and article below is from a Baptist News Global article written by Jeff Brumley. Jeff reached out to me for some thoughts around millennials and why they’re often depicted as being dissociated from the institutional church. The origi…

The above image and article below is from a Baptist News Global article written by Jeff Brumley. Jeff reached out to me for some thoughts around millennials and why they’re often depicted as being dissociated from the institutional church. The original article can be found HERE.

Congregations lamenting the dwindling presence of young adults from church and faith often need only to look within for the solutions.

In many cases it isn’t Millennials and younger adults who need to change, said Mark Tidsworth, a congregational and clergy consultant based in South Carolina.

“After only brief reflection, we see the issue may not actually be Millennials and their preferences,” he wrote in a recent blog post for his ministry, Pinnacle Leadership Associates.

“Instead the issue may be us . . . those of us who are acculturated into the predominant expressions of God’s Church formed during the last half of the 20th century.”

All too often, Millennials are invited to churches where they are expected to conform to decades-old ways of worship and governance, Tidsworth said.

“If we are going to invite people who are members of different generations to be involved in church and we want to make space for them, it means we can’t insist that they do church the way we have always done it,” he told Baptist News Global.

The challenge seems to exist for houses of worship – and Millennials – across religious groups.

The Deseret News in Salt Lake City, Utah, recently published a story titled “10 ways to connect with Latter-day Saint Millennials.” The Denver Catholic reported that parish leaders in that area are trying “to recapture the Millennial generation.”

In an October interview with Baptist News Global, a rabbi said synagogues are bending over backwards to convince Millennials to return to their Jewish roots.

A young adult told BNG earlier this year that being treated like idols makes Millennials feel pandered to and leads many to stay away.

And the anecdotal examples are backed up by the numbers.

Polls and reports about the rise of religious “nones” – those with no religious affiliation – are numerous. Millennials, they have found, are leading that movement.

The Public Religion Research Institute, or PRRI, reported that 39 percent of adults aged 18-29 are in that category. That’s three times the rate of religiously unaffiliated Americans 65 and older.

‘Gimmick red carpet treatment’

One of the inadvisable things churches can do is turn to gimmicks to try to lure young adult Christians through the doors, said Justin Cox, 37, the minister of students at First Baptist Church in Statesville, North Carolina.

Millennials and other younger adults can readily detect when someone is using “this gimmick red carpet treatment” to get them in or to stay, Cox said.

Besides, abandoning traditional worship for more modern forms isn’t a guarantee because many young people are attracted to liturgy, stained glass and steeples, Cox said.

What Millennials are attracted to is authenticity and the opportunity to make a meaningful contribution to the church.

“There has to be some way the church offers to help people find where their passions lie,” Cox said.

Or, at the least, congregations must be open to letting Millennials create their own avenues for involvement.

“Someone who is 65 doesn’t need to create a young adults ministry,” he said.

That means it isn’t all on the church to make the relationship work, Cox added.

“The responsibility is on both ends,” he said. “The church needs to create space where young people can come in and figure out who they are in that space, and young people need to say, ‘what can I bring to this community?’”

Cultivating new communities

It’s noble and healthy to want to convince young people to come to church, Tidsworth said.

“We want to pass on our faith to the next generation and we believe the of way Jesus is a beautiful and good thing,” he said.

But there are other motivations for many congregations.

“It’s also mixed with institutional concerns, which are buildings and bodies and budgets. And it’s about keeping our church going the way it has in the past.”

What congregations must try to do, Tidsworth said, is to adjust the expression of the church.

That may include restructuring the historic committee-based approach to handling church functions, often with multi-year terms.

“Millennials and other groups are less likely to want to do that,” he said. “They will be involved in a taskforce or a project.”

Congregations can also change their approach to Christian formation in ways more attractive to the lifestyles of younger adults and families, Tidsworth said.

Some churches are replacing traditional Sunday school, which is declining in attendance, with small-group meetings in members’ homes to conduct Christian formation.

Millennials also must be allowed into leadership roles, he said. Inviting them to worship but not to help guide the church doesn’t work for young adults.

In other cases, churches are launching or inviting congregations that cater to young adults. It’s an approach available to groups unwilling to change their own expressions, Tidsworth said.

“It makes more room around Christ’s table,” he said.

Whatever churches do, they must be aware the mid-20th century way of being church holds little appeal for most young adults, Tidsworth said.

“Millennials in general are not interested in membership culture and being members of organizations,” he said.

The truth of that observation is borne out in the statistics.

“Millennials have already indicated that they don’t relate to the cultural models of previous generations,” Tidsworth said. “If churches want to connect with Millennials they either have to be willing to adjust their expression of church and be willing to make some large-scale changes or cultivate new communities.”

Another Shooting: Our Inability to Empathize

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In June 2015 my wife and I were on a mission trip with students at the church I previously served as youth pastor. The trip had all the makings of a typical youth excursion; students leaving things behind, the organizations we partnered with falling through in some areas, and of course having to change a flat tire on the church van (I swear, I changed a tire on that van once, maybe even, twice, a year for THREE years).

On the evening of June 17th, we sat down to have dinner together. Some students were playing board games, some checking their phones, while others were watching the movie Selma which I had brought along. About halfway through the film, my wife’s phone started buzzing. There had been a mass shooting at a church in Charleston, SC. Social media began to explode with accounts of what happened at Mother Emanuel AME. I grabbed my phone and told students to do the same as they were informed to contact their parents to let them know we were alright.

You see, we were in Charleston when the shootings happened.

Proximity offers an experience like no other. We had heard sirens go by in the home we had rented for the week yet thought nothing of it. As we tuned into national news outlets we began to see places and street corners we had just walked on hours before. While phones were being scrolled by everyone, the movie Selma continued to play in the background depicting the struggle and pursuit of racial equality during the Civil Rights era of the 1960s. Even in that very moment, I saw the significance of what was unfolding; we were watching history and also smack in the middle of it.

My God, how far have we as a nation of people really come?

Hearing the tragic news of what took place at the Tree of Life synagogue in Pittsburgh this past Saturday brought my memories of Charleston that summer flooding back. I remember the initial fear, the anger, the need to want to do something. I wanted to go out into the streets and be present as a faith leader, yet I had students with me and my responsibility to them took priority. All my wife Lauren and I could do was watch the story unfold as we stayed up late into the night. The next morning we were to scheduled to stop into a local charitable organization for a tour before heading back to eastern NC. I notified them early the next morning to let them know we were not able to come.

Instead, I decided to take the students to a memorial service just a few blocks away from Mother Emanuel at Morris Brown AME church instead.

I could say a lot about what we all saw and experienced there that day. Speakers, the songs being sung in and outside the sanctuary, the patrolling bomb squad and security, the tears that flowed around us and by us. Yet, when I think back to this horrific display of racism and white supremacy I push myself to remember the scene inside the Morris Brown sanctuary that morning. I saw clerical collars of all shapes and sizes next to kippahs. I watched imams embrace rabbis while Christians ministers waited for their chance to do the same. I watched one of the biggest men I have ever seen openly sob in front of me. I saw a people, from all different faith backgrounds, lament together. It’s the closest thing to the kingdom of heaven I believe I’ve ever come in contact with.

Charleston 2015, 9 victims

Sutherland 2017, 26 victims

Pittsburgh 2018, 11

(Columbine, Virginia Tech, Sandy Hook, Stoneman Douglas)

In the wake of another shooting, the talks of how this could have been prevented skyrocket to the surface. People huddle up to their proposed ideology and accompanying collective group and hold fast to their believed corrective action. Some call for gun law reform while others cry for more guns. Some call for action while others call for conversation. Some point to the obvious underlying tension of systemic oppression while others say we as a nation just need to move on from problems like racism and antisemitism because they are perceived to be in the past. This nation doesn’t want to admit it has a problem, and meanwhile, victims bodies continue to pile up.

I see a lot of talking. I see a lot of agendas. I see biased reporting. I see an unwillingness to hear another side or experience that doesn’t line up with one's own understanding. I see police officers at the entrances of places of worship and wonder if this is the new normal going forward (and how much this saddens me). I see victim blaming by political leaders.

I see these tragedies as the only time people come together.

The sad reality is maybe these moments are the only times we as a nation can feel something towards each other.  Maybe we’ve reached a level of apathy that has pushed us off the charts into a realm where the ability to love anything, especially those we consider “others”, is next to impossible.  And even when we do, these moments are so compartmentalized we are forced to process and move on as quickly as possible so that we might be ready to do it again a few weeks later. Maybe that’s why modern White America has such a hard time understanding transgenerational trauma because it forces us to linger and reflect on inhuman acts committed on African slaves in the name of Manifest Destiny. If you spend enough time reflecting you might start to realize this isn’t “their problem”, but  “your problem” too. What I’m asking is not a call to come to terms, but a call for reconciliation. And it shouldn’t take a white anti-semitic shooter and 11 dead Jewish brothers and sisters to realize this.

Saturday acts reminded me of Charleston. It reminded me of what systems of oppression spewing hatefully bent rhetoric propagating elitism can do. It reminded me of our country’s lack or inability to see itself of fault and sin.

It makes me think our greatest sin is our lack of empathy toward each other.

Lord, we have so much work to do...and so much to answer for.

A Prayer of Pressing: A Savory Contemplative Prayer Practice

Boldly going where I go every morning…

Boldly going where I go every morning…

I’m not sure when Lauren and I received our first french press coffee maker, but I know it wasn’t until last year that we begin to use it. Like so many things that sit on on shelves unused, I believe it did so out of sheer ignorance…at least on my part anyways. Once we moved into a current home, I eyed the contraption suspiciously until finally I asked Lauren, “how in the world do you use this thing?”

Why the sudden desire? I think there were many factors. However, I believe the biggest to be my kindling interest in creation care. Lauren and I were trying our hands at gardening and I knew that coffee grinds were supposed to be wonderful contributors to compost piles. Also, the amount of Keurig cups I saw in our trash can made me warrant the possible need for change.

Lauren taught me how to use a french press, and with the exciting newness of a toy I had always had but just learned to play with, I bought my first bag of whole bean coarse ground coffee from the store. This happened a few times before we finally invested in an grinder of our own along with an electric kettle to heat water.

A regular size french press produces two large cups of coffee in our house, meaning we usually have to perform the act twice in order to have a couple of cups each to wake our bodies up for the day ahead. That means twice every morning we observe in the following actions;

The Act of Pressing:

Pour/grind coffee beans.

Pour water in the kettle.

Wash out the french press if we haven’t from the day before and transplant the grounded beans.

Wait for the water to boil.

Pour water over ground beans and stir.

Wait several minutes before “pressing.”

Pour steaming cup of liquid celebration into cup and enjoy.

Needless to say it takes a little more effort than popping a cup in a Keurig with a little water added. In a society where efficiency is valued, why do I take the extra time to make my coffee this way?

Again, I have thought of many reasons, but the answer I feel most comfortable giving is that I recognize the process as an act of contemplative prayer where I am aware of my embodied actions (my physical preparation to make the coffee), the items used to do so (my acknowledgement of others who have provided the materials needed), and my awareness of God in the moment (divine presence). In her book An Altar to the World, Barbara Brown Taylor says “Anything can become a spiritual practice once you are willing to approach it that way.” For me, the making of coffee in this manner allows for reflection of process; meaning I actually have to think about what I’m doing and, because there is waiting involved, I have to walk away from it which requires me to remember it later (I can’t tell you how often I’ve started boiling water only to completely forget about it leaving me to do it again).

The entire process might take between 10-15 minutes. For some, their days are started by encountering God with prayer once feet hit the floor. For others, they turn to personal devotions and scripture to connect with the holy. However for me, the act of shuffling around in my semi-dark kitchen pouring water and grinding beans is enough to remind me that I’m in the presence of the sacred.

Amen.


Statesville Landmark: Interfaith group Water into Wine brings together diverse members

Big thanks to Megan Suggs who wrote this feature story for the local Statesville Landmark. The article in its original form can be found HERE.

Big thanks to Megan Suggs who wrote this feature story for the local Statesville Landmark. The article in its original form can be found HERE.

Twice a month, a diverse group of Statesville citizens comes together over glasses of wine and beer to talk about ways to overcome the racial, religious and generational barriers that separate them.

Although the program, Water into Wine, was started by local churches, organizers say anyone is welcome to attend the sessions. Members have respectful conversations about hot-button issues such as confederate monuments, mental health and race, among other topics.

“The goal for us is to help break the cycle we’re in of anger and people being able to isolate themselves from any worldview other than their own,” said Rev. Wes Pitts, one of the group’s founders. Pitts is also director of Christian education at First Presbyterian Church in Statesville.

Pitts started Water into Wine with Rev. Carrilea Potter Hall, associate pastor of Broad Street United Methodist Church in Statesville, because they recognized a need for community discussion in a relaxed space. The two soon met Rev. Justin Cox, minster to students at First Baptist Church in Statesville, and all three now facilitate the meetings.

Hall said the inclusive nature of the program allowed members to have conversations with those of other denominations and religions. Such experiences are important for people of faith.

Water into Wine is “building bridges across different groups of people and created a space for people who wouldn’t come into a church,” Hall said. “I hope the group grows in diversity. This is a very polarized world, and this could be a space where we see our similarities.”

The relationships formed help people educate each other, Pitts said. When Water into Wine discussed mental health, he learned of several services offered in Statesville. Many of the topics the group discusses are informative for all involved.

Several of the participants say it’s helping unite people who wouldn’t normally interact.

“A community has formed of very different backgrounds, from Jews to Methodists to Presbyterians to people who don’t follow any religion,” said Jim Tarman, Water into Wine member who also attends First Presbyterian Church.

Tarman nominated Pitts for the Ecumenical and Interfaith Award from Presbyterian USA for his involvement with Water into Wine. On June 20, the General Assembly Committee on Ecumenical and Interreligious Relations gave Pitts the award.

In a time when so few people are willing to talk with those who disagree with them, Pitts said, he believed GACEIR recognized Water into Wine’s culture of open diverse discussion was valuable.

Pitts said few people willingly talk to someone with whom they disagree. The award shows that Water into Wine’s culture of open and diverse discussion is valuable, he believes.

“I don’t think we can experience all of who God is when we’re isolated in our little box,” Pitts said.

Circuit Riding: My Takeaways From A Summer of Preaching

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Today is officially the beginning of autumn and to this I give thanks. Not only for God providing another day for me to exist in creation, but to do so with the promise of cooler weather (of all the things I love about the South, the heat is not one of them). At the seasonal turn, I am finding afamiliar stride in the final year of my divinity school experience and beginning to transition back fully into part-time minister status (is there such a thing?) at the church I serve in Statesville. Before time slips away into a never ceasing deadline of theological papers, I wanted to take a moment and offer some personal observations on the closure of my summer. My friend Austin, who wrote a wonderful piece earlier this month, spurred my own desire to reflect back on a series of weeks this past summer where I found myself behind the pulpit in several different faith communities.

June 17th 2018: First Baptist Church (Davie Ave) – Statesville.

I began the summer in my own church FBC – Statesville.

Summer official kicks off for student ministry when school ends. The students of FBC traditional go to camp within the first two weeks of being released and this summer was no exception. Because of personal scheduling issues, I would not leave for camp with them that Sunday. This provided me the opportunity to preach on Father’s Day, and of course, this was an emotional event for me as it was my first Father’s Day as a new parent. What I remember most about that morning, beside the pauses where I attempted and failed miserably from holding back tears, was looking out into the congregation and seeing my parents, particularly my father, and noticing my wife walking back in forth in the vestibule with Violet. The picture below was sent to me by a choir member, who unbeknownst to him, had managed to capture me, my father, and Lauren holding Violet all in the same frame. My sermon that morning was entitled “An Indescribable Love” and was inspired by Bishop Michael Curry royal wedding message.

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June 24th, 2018: First Baptist Church (Garfield St) – Statesville.

The following Sunday I drove 6 minutes down the road and delivered a message to the other FBC in Statesville (most towns in the South have two in case you didn’t know).

My second Summer in Statesville, I came across FBC on Garfield St. because I took a wrong turn trying to find another church. That serendipitous, or providential, occurrence led me to begin a relationship with Rev. Brunson the pastor of what the people call “First Church.” After numerous lunches and conversations, brother Brunson invited me over on the fifth Sunday of the month to share a message to his congregation. I preached for the first time in an historic African-American church, and was overwhelmed with the love and support I received from those of First Church and the families who had come over from FBC Davie Ave to support me. One older First Church saint sitting in the front row kept urging me on during the sermon. When I hit a point that moved him, he’d holler out “Mighty, Mighty, Mighty!” The scripture that spurred the sermon was the “alternative ending” to the Gospel of Mark where believers are told to pick up poisonous serpents. While no actual snakes were lifted up, I challenged all there that we as a community need to embrace a faith that calls one to lay hands on poisonous injustices in our present society e.g. systemic racism. I’m hoping to return the favor and love brother Brunson showed me that day by having him over at FBC on Davie in the coming year.

August 12th, 2018: First Baptist Church – Traverse City, Michigan

After a less eventful July, I traveled the farthest I ever had to preach.

The summer of 2017, while visiting Lauren’s mother in Michigan, I awoke one Sunday morning and decided to visit the local Baptist church. I found FBC – Traverse City online and was intrigued by the idea of attending an American Baptist Church. That morning I met their pastor MaryBeth and through our conversation we discovered we knew a few of the same people such as Molly Marshall and Bill Leonard. We exchanged emails and I was pleasantly surprised when a few months later MaryBeth reached out to me to see if I’d be interested in preaching when Lauren and I visited again. This came to fruition in August as I preached to an intimate congregation which included a large portion of Lauren’s family. My sermon was on creation care and stewardship and I was glad to hear after the service that my mention of Wendell Berry had resonated with a few people. What I remember the most from my time there was the “prayers of the people.” This community’s liturgical practice and tradition allow space to share their thanks and lamentations with one another. This time in the service was authentic, raw, and certainly holy.

August 22nd, 2018: Taste the Spirit – Statesville, NC

The day before classes started back at Wake Forest I, and several other local pastors in Statesville, hosted an event we decided to call “Taste the Spirit.”

My pastoral peers, and good friends, Wes Pitts and Carrilea Hall meet every week to plan an ecumenical gathering called Water into Wine. It’s a bible study for people who don’t like bible studies. From this endeavor, we have helped bring together a group of people who are interested in engaging their faith as well as their community. Taste the Spirit came out of this group’s desire to do something different and yet preserve something old. With a slight nod to old school tent revivals, we threw up our own Holy Ghost tent, found some musicians to lead our hymns, grilled some food, provided a couple of kegs of NC beer, and broke bread in an act of communion. We did all of this on the lawn of First Presbyterian Church in the middle of downtown Statesville. Wes, Carrilea, Reggie Keitt from Mt. Pleasant AME Zion Church, and myself shared a collaborative message in how we approach and benefit from the Spirit of God using Romans chapter 12 as our basis. I spoke for several minutes about overcoming evil with good and, as you might imagined, shared a story or two about Will Campbell.

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September 4th, 2018: First Baptist Church – Statesville, NC

Labor Day (affectionately referred to as National Associate Pastor Sunday).

My final sermon of the summer allowed me to make a full circle; both starting and finishing at FBC – Statesville. The state of NC was gaining national attention due to the incidents coming out of the college town of Chapel Hill. A confederate statue had been brought down by protestors and those holding opposing views had began clashing on UNC’s campus (as I type this, they still are). My inspiration for this message was done in response to the comments I read by people on social media news feeds. I posed the unpopular question, “what’s wrong with us?” Referencing the Old Testament prophets and citing the prophet Isaiah, I challenged those with ears to hear what making idols out of stone and wood can do to a people. In those moments, like the prophets, the people of God need to embody what author Kathleen Norris describes as a “necessary other.” It wasn’t the easiest message to give, but it was the one that needed to be given.

The winds of change are forever blowing. Here’s to that same spirit ushering in similar experiences in the Fall.

As you were,

~tBSB

Accepted: Finding Grace Among Adults with Intellectual Disabilities: Guest Writer Austin Maynor

People use the word “privileged” a lot these days, and most time one might cringe upon its release. That is not the case however when I use it to describe my friendship with Austin. Austin is a gift to all that know him as seen by his article below.…

People use the word “privileged” a lot these days, and most time one might cringe upon its release. That is not the case however when I use it to describe my friendship with Austin. Austin is a gift to all that know him as seen by his article below. 

Spending the summer as the Duke Divinity School (DDS) field education intern in a L’Arche community was for me the fulfillment of a long-standing dream. Like countless others, my introduction to the organization came through the writings of Henri Nouwen and, later, Jean Vanier. A couple of years after I read Nouwen’s book The Inner Voice of Love, I consumed his posthumously published Adam in nearly one sitting. It remains one of the most formative volumes that I have ever read. Even before I knew how to properly pronounce its French name, I was keenly aware that the mission of L’Arche had touched me very deeply and that I was attracted me to their way of life. However, given that both of these writers were formed in the Roman Catholic tradition, I perceived that L’Arche would have little use for a Baptist like me. I assumed this for years until I learned through the field education office that the organization was ecumenical and that I could live into this yearning by serving as an intern. With the summer well under way, I arrived on the Washington D.C. community’s doorstep on the evening of June 5th after a tediously long train ride from North Carolina. Once I had deposited my bags onto the floor of my small bedroom, an obviously seasoned assistant gave me a brief tour of Ontario House and left me to rest from my travels. Before we parted ways, I told her that I feared how my tired exhaustion may have made me seem especially aloof. She responded by saying: “You don’t have to be any sort of way to be here.” I had no idea just how important that phrase would become over the next ten weeks.

Contrary to my initial hopes and expectations, life as an assistant did not come easily for me. Though I had done some ministry among students with intellectual disabilities while I was a resident chaplain at Campbell University, the duties of a L’Arche assistant were entirely foreign. To get acquainted with these duties, my time at the Ontario House began with the immersive experience of a fast-paced (albeit incredibly thorough) orientation that exhausted me early on. I was simultaneously learning the unique dimensions of each core member’s personality, and this demanded my undivided attention at times when I had so little to give. This whirlwind of information, as well as the feeling of inadequacy over a new job about which I knew nothing, indicated to me that I might not be the sort of assistant that I had expected to be. Though I relish a good conversation, I am not an extraordinarily gregarious person. I usually amass energy while I am alone. With rare exception, I nearly always maintain a calm, steady demeanor that makes it difficult for me to “loosen up” by making animal noises or singing silly songs loudly for everyone to hear. Somewhere along the way, I became convinced these things were two essential marks of a good assistant. Because I connect so deeply with the literature that has come out of L’Arche, I assumed that I might miraculously acquire them within the atmosphere of any given community. Learning that I was still Austin Maynor came as unwelcome news for my insecure spirit. These frustrations boiled over into much of my internship, making it difficult to return to work on some days. Thanks to the incredible direction of my supervisor, I realized that L’Arche’s message of affirmation was not exclusively reserved for the residents (they’re called core members at L’Arche). It was for assistants, too. Realizing that I “don’t have to be any sort of way,” I slowly became comfortable in my own shoes (frequently penny loafers, to be exact) as a person who brings both gifts and weaknesses to a community like Ontario House. That person–not the fantasized version of myself to which I cling so frequently–is the one L’Arche affirms and the one whom God loves. At the core of the Judeo-Christian tradition is the imperative to love our neighbors as we love ourselves, and so it makes sense that it was not until I acquired my own affirmation that I was able to appropriately dispense it to my friends at Ontario House.

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As a summer intern, my name was added to a long list of temporary assistants who make a brief appearance into the very full life of a L’Arche community before leaving abruptly at a predetermined date. The fact of my presence was welcomed by some core members, but it was heavily resisted by others. Though it became easier to navigate in the final weeks, grappling with this frequent rejection was very difficult and often infuriating to the point of having to step away for a break. Still, a core person’s rejection is entirely plausible. Since I was a stranger to them, my fairly insistent grip around their gait belt or my presence in their shower routine was understandably perceived as an unwelcome intrusion. Just as any other person might do, they sometimes loudly refused my assistance in order to restore their sense of security. When standing on the receiving end of this rejection, it was easy to inhabit an angry disposition and become distant from the person in order to protect myself from the emotional upheaval that results from conflict. Doing this comes at great cost, though, because to reject the person is to reject the image of God. L’Arche has taught me that it is when we accept the risk of becoming present with others that we encounter the gifts that they offer to the world. Ten weeks is not a very long time, but it is long enough to establish relationships with four adults who, in the words of Thomas Merton, are “shining like the sun” with the radiance of God’s luminous image.

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My internship concluded nearly a month ago, and I have since returned to the orbit of the familiar by entering a new semester at Duke. Even though I am now absent from the Ontario House community, I expect that the lessons that these cherished people taught me will continue to form me as a person and as a minister. During my last twenty-four hours in Washington, I visited each of the four core members one last time. This would be goodbye for the foreseeable future. I will always remember the hugs, the smiles, and the tears, but one memory has become especially valuable to me. When I reached the core person with whom I had shared the most tension, I stood on the other side of his door and remembered how our summer had gone and how much we had learned about each other. When I told him that I was leaving the next morning, he didn’t quite understand why. “Are you taking another job?” he asked me. I replied that I had to return home to get ready for the new semester. When he understood this, he told me that I could come back any time because I was now “part of the family.” He then blessed me twice before I finally closed the door and walked downstairs. When I saw him again the next morning, he offered yet another blessing. With two fingers raised in benediction, he prayed: “God, we come to you today to pray for a member of our community. Today is his last day. Go in peace with God, Austin.” I savored this blessing while I rode the train back to North Carolina, and the only word that came to mind that accurately described what I had been given was “grace.” As Paul Tillich once preached,

In the light of this grace we perceive the power of grace in our relation to others                          and to ourselves. We experience the grace of being able to look frankly into the eyes of another, the miraculous grace of reunion of life with life… We experience                       the grace of being able to accept the life of another, even if it be hostile and harmful to us, for, through grace, we know that it belongs to the same Ground to which we     belong, by which we have been accepted… And in the light of this grace we perceive the power of grace in relation to ourselves” (The Shaking of the Foundations, 162).

In this particular core member I encountered the Jesus who accepts both of us and delights in our shared communion. During his earthly ministry, Jesus shared his life among the people whom society had exiled, and he taught that it is among these people that he makes himself known (Matt. 25:40). People living with intellectual disabilities would have been included in Jesus’ circle of friends. Though often forced into the shadow of cultural abandon, they are a diverse, lively people among whom the Son of God can reliably be found.  I have experienced Jesus through my friends at L’Arche, and through their own distinct voices Jesus has spoken these lessons of forgiveness, affirmation, and celebration directly to me. Just as he was about to ascend into heaven, Jesus commanded his disciples to bear witness to the work he had done and to live out what they had seen him do (28:18-20). On a basic level, Jesus’ “Great Commission” informs us that an encounter with the living Christ always results in a shared testimony with the rest of the world (Acts 1:8). The people of L’Arche understand this, and they sing it frequently during celebration gatherings:

  Roll right over the ocean! Roll right over the sea!

  Go back to your homes and build community!

  It’s us! It’s us! It’s us that builds community!

This summer’s fresh encounter with Jesus now compels me to live out of the beauty that I have witnessed. Indeed, that small community that is nestled in a row house on a busy street in Washington, D.C. testifies to a vision that extends beyond its four walls. That vision is not easy, and it demands much from all who commit to its realization. Even with its demands, it paves the way for a life in which I am called to listen more intentionally, to celebrate every good gift, to forgive with understanding and humility, and to open myself daily to the mystery of community through which Jesus’ message of radical love and affirmation can be heard and proclaimed again and again.

The Christian Heresy of Islamophobia: Guest Writer Kenly Stewart

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When you get a Facebook message from someone late in the evening asking if they can write something for your blog with this much significance you respond emphatically with a "yes." Big thanks to Kenly for offering this insightful call for repentance. AS YOU WERE. ~tBSB

Around 180 C.E. Saint Irenaeus, Bishop and Martyr of the Church, wrote a classic work of apologetics titled Against Heresies. In the opening of the work, Irenaeus makes a very important observation regarding the nature in which heresies are presented:

"Error, indeed, is never set forth in its naked deformity, lest, being thus exposed, it should at once be detected. But it is craftily decked out in an attractive dress, so as, by its outward form, to make it appear to the inexperienced (ridiculous as the expression may seem) more true than the truth itself."

My friends, the great heresy that has infected modern America Christianity is the heresy of Islamophobia. Those who preach Islamophobia as a necessary stance of the church are masters at presenting Islamophobia in "an attractive dress.” Tragically, many "inexperienced" Christians will take their words about Islam/Muslims to heart. Once these words are taken to heart, one of two things can happen. Either Christians will support and even partake in Islamophobic rhetoric/actions. Or maybe even worse, Islamophobia will lead Christians to be indifferent and apathetic towards the plight of their Muslim neighbors.

Islamophobia in post-9/11 America has not only been on the rise but it has been extremely successful. This success has come in no small part from American Christians who actively preach and listen to Islamophobic rhetoric, those who actually participate in anti-Muslim activities, and those who ignore Islamophobia. For those who may doubt the severity of the situation, I point you to a 2017 study from the Pew Research Center. Using FBI Criminal Statistics, Pew shows that hate crimes and assaults against Muslims have now surpassed the levels of such crimes that happened immediately following 9/11.

For Christians the rise of Islamophobia in America should not only concern us for political and legal reasons. Islamophobia should concern us theologically, because it is a heresy against Christ and the teachings of the Bible. First and foremost as Christians, we believe God chose to reveal God's self in the person of Jesus of Nazareth. With that core theological assertion in mind, Christians should never forget the historical Jesus was a persecuted religious minority, a native of the Middle East with brown skin, and he was executed by an imperial power in the name of "national security."

If we close our eyes and imagine ourselves in the first century, we can almost hear the Roman authorities discussing Jesus, that radical, troublemaking Jew. We can also hear the Romans discussing the early followers of Jesus that continued to cause trouble after his death:

“His religion is dangerous and poses a threat.”

“He and his followers are all crazy zealots.”

“There is no such thing as a peaceful follower of Jesus.”

“They need to learn once and for all this is a Roman nation.”

“You know if he had just stayed quiet and out of view everything would be fine, but he                            insisted on practicing his crazy beliefs openly.”

“Maybe we should ban all the followers of Jesus from the Roman Empire?”

 Islamophobes attack, discredit, and persecute Muslims by using the same line of reasoning used by the Romans to crucify Jesus and persecute the early church. I have yet to encounter any form of Islamophobia that does not rely on “othering” Muslims and presenting their religion as somehow dangerous, threatening, and backwards (like the Romans did with the early church). Christian Islamophobia means Christians have not only turned their backs on their Muslim siblings, it means they have turned their backs on Christ.

Christian Islamophobia relies heavily on American Christians being ignorant about Islam and having no close personal relationships with Muslims. Islamophobes use this ignorance to misrepresent the teachings of Islam or teach complete fabrications. How does this count as a heresy you may ask? Well for starters we are told in both testaments of the Bible (literally in both the Ten Commandments and by Jesus himself) that "You shall not bear false witness against your neighbor." Bearing "false witness" against Muslims, along with racism, are the key ingredients to produce bigotry in the form of Islamophobia.

 I think most Christians would agree that loving our neighbors, because Christ loved us, serves as one of the central claims of Christianity. Some Christians may not like to admit it, but Muslims are our neighbors and we have an obligation to them. As we are told by Saint Paul in Romans 13:10 "Love does no wrong to a neighbor; therefore, love is the fulfilling of the law." Yet love is a verb, it demands action. As Christians, we cannot truly love Muslims if we are partaking in Islamophobia. As Christians, if we truly love Muslims, we cannot sit in silence and do nothing when we witness Islamophobia, be it on the street or from the pulpit on Sundays. To love our Muslims neighbors faithfully, it means we stand with them.

So what is my advice to combat the heresy of Christian Islamophobia? First meet and befriend Muslims (they don't bite... usually). Educate yourself about Islam, preferably from Muslims themselves, but at the very least check the sources you are reading, listening to, and learning from. Visit a mosque one Friday. Stop comparing the best of Christianity with the worst of Islam (look at Matthew 7:3-5 for more on this). If you see or hear Islamophobia do something!!! Remember there were people in the crowd who began shouting for the crucifixion of Jesus. But there must have been those who recognized an innocent man was being condemned to die (even Pilate recognized his innocence), yet they remained silent and did nothing. Doing nothing and remaining silent when confronted with Islamophobia makes you like those in the crowd who watched in silence as Jesus was condemned. And guess what? You cannot wash your hands of that.  

 To truly combat Islamophobia as a Christian, all you have to do is love like Jesus, which means love with no exceptions. That will ensure you take the correct course.

 Thanks for reading,

 Kenly Stewart

Why Young Families Don't Have Churches.

For those that don't get the reference, educate yourself HERE. 

For those that don't get the reference, educate yourself HERE. 

Earlier this week I posted a blog of why mainline churches are having problems getting young families to walk through their doors. The article received a good response, and because of this, I wanted to offer a different perspective on the issue. It would be easy to cast all the blame on the churches, but I believe like in any relationship that goes sour there are two parties at fault. Hence, the need for the other side of the coin.

Below I offer 3 push backs to why young families have some work to do on their end as well.

  1. Churches want you to get over yourself: Steeple churches in their desire to bring in young families are often depicted as desperate. In my last blog, I laid out why this desperation can become suffocating and produce an environment where the congregation becomes stagnant to the point where they stop trying to bring in any new families. The flip side; some churches gear their entire evangelizing efforts towards young families. And just like a 5-star college recruit, young families know they are wanted by everyone. When you know you’re wanted you begin to feel entitled to certain things, but those expectations should be rooted in reality. Your first couple of visits to a church shouldn’t require a red carpet treatment. Don’t count on everyone in the congregation to drop everything to focus on you. The pastor(s) may not be able to greet you properly on those first few visits (trust me, Sunday mornings can be nuts). What I’m asking for is understanding and a little bit of grace. You’re trying to figure them out, and they, in turn, are trying to figure you out. C.S. Lewis in his popular work Mere Christianity says “The real problem of the Christian life comes where people do not usually look for it. It comes the very moment you wake up early each morning.” Young families need to be looking for these meaningful moments from fellow parishioners in the hallways, parking lots, or at the Applebees after church instead of focusing on who didn’t speak to them during those first few awkward visits.  
  2. Churches think you should at least know what your walking into (and in this age of information overload, they’re right): Websites, websites, websites. I’ve written about this before in at least one other post, but getting online and doing some research before you visit a church is essential. I’ve heard stories from people who’ve visited churches and were completely taken back by what they heard and saw that morning. For example, if you have a strong theologically opinion on the role of women in leadership positions in the church you might want to check their website to see if any women are serving on staff with the title of “minister” instead of “director.” Websites “should” give enough information for young families to tell if they have any sort of children’s programming, if they have a functioning nursery, or if they prefer children to stay in the sanctuary during worship. Information about worship style is usually stated as well, which might help indicate whether the church is contemporary or more traditional. Of course, this demands that churches actually have a working up to date website. Spending a few minutes browsing their page could save young families from entering a space that isn’t prepared or even a good fit for them. Take up some responsibility in this area.
  3. Churches think you’re fickle: I have a family member who became actively involved at an aging church. After some time, she was asked to volunteer for “children’s church” which was made up of mostly elementary aged youths. This family member told me how surprised she was when she noticed after several weeks that none of the younger families volunteered to help even when it involved working with children who were the same age as their own. After a few months, she removed herself from the small rotation of what she considered little more than a “babysitting club.” If young families are wanting to become part of a faith community they need to be present in those communities. I know families are capable of making these types of decisions for their kids because when I pass a local soccer field at 8:15am on my way to church every Sunday the place is packed! In those instances, becoming a soccer parent or helping coach a team is part of the deal. Church participation works in the same way. My point is; show up, be prepared to get involved, and be consistent. It’s hard to take you seriously when they never see you.

Bottom line; the church is wanting to hand the reins to someone. The reason the church isn’t different, more affirming, more tolerant, more relevant, etc...is because you’re not there. 

Why Your Church Doesn't Have Young Families.

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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.

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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.

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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

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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.

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"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

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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. 

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

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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.

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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. 

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. 

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.

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          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.

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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

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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.