Enter Violet: A Father's Perspective.

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My daughter Violet is 8 weeks old today.

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

And for this I’m thankful.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And for this too, I am forever thankful.

A Missed Opportunity: #lynchburgrevival

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Shame.

Marching Backwards: Guest Writer Emily Davis

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

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

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

 

Dismantling Our Own Echo Chamber.

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

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

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

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

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

I than realized I don’t have that luxury.

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

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

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

I’m talking to you intellectual progressives.  

And to you conservative patriots.

As you were,

~tBSB

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

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Short & sweet.

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

How do I know this?

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

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

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

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

Come and listen. Come and be heard.

See you at the Gathering.

~tBSB

A Humanist Welcomes the Call to Chaplaincy

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

1)   The CBF Illumination Project proposal and outcome.

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

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

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

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

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

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

To this I will say...

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

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

People are dying, My God, children are dying.

3)      And then there’s this…

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

 

 

                                   

Members Only

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 

 

 

Guest Writer: Kenly Stewart

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

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

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

– Habakkuk 1:2-4 (NRSV)

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

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

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

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

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

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

Thanks for reading,

-          Kenly Stewart

What Are You Carrying? A Terse Response to WFU Shooting.

Via. NY Times article. Link Below.

Via. NY Times article. Link Below.

Last Saturday morning, I woke to a missed phone call from the Wake (Forest University) Alert system. The message informed me that late Friday night, an altercation occurred involving several individuals at The Barn, a student-centered social space on campus.  A shooting took place resulting in the death of 21-year-old Najee Ali Baker, a student at Winston-Salem State University.

A lot has been said.

A lot has been written.

Suspects were identified, some apprehended and at least one still being sought.

Candles were lit and a vigil held.

According to the NY Times article that makes 11 school shootings just this year.

And now, as we enter into a space between the tears and the next shots fired, I’m waiting on number 12.

Let me say right here and right now what needs to be said, “We the people of the United States have a problem.” Naturally, this leads those of us who call this nation home to ask questions, none more important than, “What the hell is wrong with us?”

Call it shared selective hearing, or as Dr. Michael Eric Dyson suggested this past week when he visited the campus of WFU, America suffers from a form of amnesia; we forget easily and move on too soon. This could be applied to many different issues our nation faces today, but most certainly surrounding all issues relating to the trigger word “guns.”

I don’t think I need to rehash stances people and political parties have taken on the issue. Whether you view guns and gun laws as constitutional rights or as a new form of idolatry, both stances stem from “gun culture” in the United States. You can say you support the 2nd Amendment and produce a small arsenal in your home to prove it, or you can beat guns into plows like Shane Claiborne and company. What you cannot do is escape into a place where gun culture doesn’t exist.

I grew up as part of a culture being in the South; a culture full of atrocities and virtues for me to identify with and be shaped by. A culture producing some of the finest manifestations of art, literature, and music in the world today, and yet too often, we’ve historically chosen to be identified differently. You see any culture worth its salt produces a “collective achievement”, and personally, I just don’t see “guns” falling into that category.  Sure, guns provide home protection and produce wild game for those so inclined, but a gun should never be lumped into the same category as the writings of Flannery O'Connor, the art of Mose Tolliver, and the music of Hank Williams.

There are two kinds of “cold chills” in this world. One I’ve experienced is the heart-wrenching sounds of Appalachian fiddle and banjo depicting love, loss, and hope around a campfire. The other, late night phone calls from university officials informing all to lock their doors and stay inside. One resonates and inspires, the other makes me wonder why someone needs a pistol to attend a college party?

We as a diverse nation need to ask ourselves what “cold chills” we want to experience.  We need to ask ourselves what kind of culture we want to create and pass down. We need to realize and own our failure. We need to raze the gun culture we’ve allowed to consume us, and bring forward a new culture where carrying your heart on your sleeve is desired more than what you can conceal and carry.

Butt Paste, Snotsuckers, and all things Holy.

Just so ya'll know, this is going in Violet's baby book. 

Just so ya'll know, this is going in Violet's baby book. 

“We have Biblical authority for believing that it is ‘more blessed to give than receive’ but what the Bible does not point out is that it is more difficult to receive than to give!”

~C.S Lewis from a letter to Vera Mathews, April 26th, 1949

I've preached a fair amount of sermons in my short call as a minister. While I still get a few “butterflies in my stomach” before standing behind the pulpit, the opportunity reminds me I that, for whatever reason, am comfortable in the position of standing in the public eye. However, those who know me better can attest to the fact that I recoil when being singled out, particularly when it comes to receiving any sort of praise or accolades.

For me, it just seems odd to receive anything. I much prefer to be the person giving recognition to someone else. I’m not sure if I’ve always been like this? Maybe others who have known me longer could share some not so flattering stories about me! Yet, since becoming a minister the sense to always be the one that gives is palatable and most often self-imposed. Mentors and seminary professors have taught me the importance of self-care, but let’s just say old habits die hard.

I was reminded of my welcomed uneasiness this past week. Lauren and I were graciously treated to two “baby showers” put together by two different communities we are part of; our church and some of my fellow classmates at Wake Divinity and Lauren’s co-workers. People turned out to support us by buying and making food and gifting us with LOADS of first-time parents necessities (I am now the personal owner of butt paste and a snotsucker…it’s for the baby, not me). We sat in front of groups of people as they watched us unwrap presents and gobble up desserts. All eyes are on you and there is no escape.

I should say, there is no escape…from the outpouring of compassion, affection, and love. And for those reasons, I count us fortunate.

In John’s Gospel account Jesus is meeting with his disciples for the last time. They have shared a meal together, bread was broken and wine was poured. Then Jesus stands up, removes his outer robe, and ties a towel around himself. He then makes his way toward each disciple, washing each of their feet (even Judas…take a few minutes and let that sink in). Peter, one of the inner three, protests, exclaiming it should be I doing this to you Lord. Jesus explains to all present, I’m demonstrating a way of life I want you to live. If I your Lord and teacher do this for you, you should see that I mean for you to do the same for each other. By doing this you will be blessed.

When we allow others to wash our feet or be a blessing to us we are allowing the way of Jesus to manifest itself in the world. The veil between heaven and earth is made thinner, and God’s will is being done on earth as it is in heaven.

That is why I was uncomfortable this past week. When you come in contact with something holy, such as an outpouring of blessing, it’s enough to make you squirm and attempt to look away. The prophet Isaiah hit the ground and covered his face when he envisioned the Lord in the Temple. When people hand you a swaddling cloth, a pair of tiny socks, or a book you’ll read to your daughter as she grows up…your face hits the ground like Isaiah’s because you see the good in this world and it’s almost too much to bear.

And like Peter, you’ll want to return the favor.

Lauren and I thank you all for your love and support.

As you were,

~tBSB

The Life I Live Requires Exposure.

This article is part of YouthMinistryConversations 2018 series entitled "The Life..." Big thanks to them for putting my piece on display. You can read the original article, and check out the rest of their site, HERE.

This article is part of YouthMinistryConversations 2018 series entitled "The Life..." Big thanks to them for putting my piece on display. You can read the original article, and check out the rest of their site, HERE.

This (past) summer I found myself for the second time at a Christian summer camp. Full disclosure here; summer camps are a relatively new adventure for me. During my youth I spent the majority of my summers with my great aunts in a house with no indoor plumbing and air conditioning. When I became a Student Pastor several years ago I began the task of crafting “summer mission trips” to either the beach or the mountains here in North Carolina and surrounding states. It wasn’t until my current ministry setting where I was introduced to a Christian Summer Camp. Many of my youth have attended this same camp since they were in 6th grade (most of the high school students have been 5-6 times).

For me camps, be they more retreat based or missional, provide an opportunity for me to connect with students in an entirely different way. It’s one thing to meet up with them a couple of times a week for church related events, but spending a consecutive amount of time with them in a communal setting is something else. Sharing living space breaks down walls in a way traditional Sunday School cannot. These moments are where I feel “relational and presence-centered” ministry take place.

As the week at camp began I found myself thinking; why does this type of bonding generally happen at places like this?

A word that became my mantra for the week was exposure.

When folks are together for extended amounts of time they tend to start letting their guard down. A trust begins to form almost by osmosis. When you only have one bathroom with six other guys you have to learn to be comfortable with one another!

However, the notion of exposure to one another is just one example.

As I mentioned before, I’m a bit new at this summer camp thing. Had it not been for my appointment at my current church I don’t know if I would have ever attended a Christian summer camp. What the students of my current church, and their families, have done over the past year was expose me to a sub-culture that I haven’t been privy to before. And like most instances of exposure, I had to adjust to the areas where I felt uncomfortable. Often times the word uncomfortable implies a bad connotation. Yet, when viewed through the “lens of faith” being uncomfortable is something followers of Jesus should strive towards. Most of my growth as a Christian has taken place in theses uncomfortable moments.

Allow me to elaborate. When left to my own devices, I tend to stay in a certain “camp” of thinking. In my theology surrounding God I tend to view issues through my own understanding and life experiences (I don’t consider myself an authority on much, but concerning myself no one knows more). I listen to pastors who have a similar view as me and read theologians who share my same approach. Needless to say, I enjoy nodding my head more than I do shaking it.

I’ve come to see that being in this type of continuous setting doesn’t produce a lot of growth, particularly in the spiritual maturity department. What is spiritual maturity you ask? Perhaps the simplest explanation I can give would be how one understands faith, God, the Bible etc…at the age of 10 versus when they’re 60. People grow in many different areas of their lives and an individual’s faith should be no exception.

I once heard a pastor use an expression concerning spiritual growth and how one should eat fish; Eat the meat, leave the bone. I’ve taken the expression seriously in how I approach listening to different schools of thought surrounding faith. Being exposed to something new gives me the opportunity to truly ask myself why I’m so comfortable with a certain way of thinking. It encourages me to apply critical thinking skills to subjects I only approach from my own perspective. It causes me to be pulled, stretched, and maybe acquires a few proverbial stitches.

And I know I’m better off for it. Those encounters help me realize I don’t have all the answers. Nor do I have too. That’s what those other opposing voices are for. I need their voice and they need mine and somewhere in that beautiful mess I think a tiny grain of truth is found.

My time at camp this year has been one of those encounters. My students, through a relationship of trust that is still growing, exposed me to something I couldn’t have experienced without them.

This trust is what allowed me, after discussing with my students the incidents in Charlottesville VA, to take some of them to a peace vigil being held in our city. For most of them, this was the first peace vigil they had ever attended. They were surrounded by people who didn’t look like them, who worshipped differently, and heard a message which asked them to look at the situation from another viewpoint. We are still unpacking this moment in our youth group, but I know we were able to have this uncomfortable exposing conversation because I trust them and they trust me. This should be our desired goal in ministry; to expose others to a side of the Gospel which they might not see and desire for them to return the favor.

Embrace Your Conviction.

My Brother's Keeper, print by artist Watson Mere

My Brother's Keeper, print by artist Watson Mere

Not long after being called to my current church, I remember talking with the senior pastor about the state of the world.

“Crazy times,” I said.

“All times are crazy,” he said back.

Amen to that.

Last week the President of the United States allegedly made derogatory remarks towards African countries as well the nation of Haiti. Both political parties are running to defend their respected positions. Some saying this was taken out of context, some saying this was a blatant act of racism and bigotry. The President himself even chimed in denying the entire incident.

I don’t know who to believe but, like one of my seminary professors said recently, someone is lying.

It was that same seminary professor who posted on social media earlier this week that he would be reaching out to local North Carolina elected officials urging them to make a public statement denouncing the President’s remarks...whether they happened or not.   

As an ordained clergy and a person of faith, I’ve often felt I’ve existed outside of the political spectrum. I loathe politics for the same reason I believe most do; I see corruption and lack of transparency. I often feel detached with the governing body of these United States because it seems so convoluted. I simply don’t know who or what to believe. All of this has produced in me a sense of disenfranchisement and an attitude of extreme apathy. If the church and state are to be separated, then I know what camp I’m sitting up with. Hard not to see now why my fascination with Anabaptist has been on the rise.

Like many, I saw the irony in the delivery of these horrendous comments coming just days before the Martin Luther King Jr. holiday (not to mention the lectionary reading from this past Sunday). I’ve taken in all this divine providence during the past few days, watching voices rise up from all over. Opinions of the masses! Some directly calling for a public apology from the President and others admitting to all who would listen that it didn’t matter if the President said it or not…these countries were “shitholes” and were a burden on themselves and for those nations that administered aid to them.

My plan was to tune all this out. Call it apathy, privilege, or frustration. I would rather operate from my own position and concentrate on the relationships within my community where I feel change and understanding have a better chance of taking root. I don’t know if it was my professor’s post or the reminder of MLK’s work and sacrifice, but I found myself not wanting to let this one go. For the first time, I’ve decided to engage my local politicians. King in his essence was a Baptist preacher, a position requires a dissenting responsibility, who called on those proclaiming faith to disobey unjust laws. I was reminded that I don’t get to hide behind the pulpit and under my stole. I am to speak prophetically not only in the church and to the church, but when necessary on the public stage in a manner which speaks up against injustice and exploitation to systems of power that look to take advantage of those suffering; be they in the inner cities, the mountains of the Appalachia, or on the devastated country of Haiti. In the United States we claim all are created equal (well men anyway, smh) but in the Kingdom of God, all are made in the imago dei.

So, I’m reaching out with whatever influence I have to those who claim representation here in NC. I figure I’ll start there and see what happens. My professor has dedicated himself to calling these representatives every day. I, a product of the times, am taking to Twitter to encourage these same individuals to denounce the alleged statements by the Trump administration, and to emphatically make clear that we as a nation do not view other people (for that is what nations are made of, people) as excremental waste.

Let King’s words push us all to act,

“The ultimate measure of a man is not where he stands in moments of comfort and convenience, but where he stands at times of challenge and controversy.”

“In the end, we will remember not the words of our enemies, but the silence of our friends.”

Allow your conviction to be your platform. Stand on one, use the other, and get to it. 

An Abdicated Throne

I belong to several different clergy specific groups on Facebook. At least once a week either someone in the group will post or share an interesting church sign they’ve seen via the internet. Signs like the ones below.   

Sometimes the humor is as corny as contemporary Christain music...

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Other times there, well, just kinda awkward...

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And then there are those that make you wonder what type of people enter the building and call themselves the "Body of Christ."

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Church signs can offer those passing by a building an idea of the kind of people who attend services there. Before the rise of super cool scrolling websites, church signs acted as the means of communication conveying the service times and the name of the preaching pastor. Newer signs might even point folks to a website for more information. If the church's budget is big enough and sign space is available, one might even catch a "vision/mission statement" posted for all to see. What's a mission statement? It's sort of a formal summary of the aims and values of a company, organization, individual, or in this case a church. 

I saw a mission statement this week that floored me. It was perhaps the best church mission statement I had ever seen. It was simple. It was poignant. It wasn't cheesy. It had a very clear and direct theological edge to it. 

But it wasn't in front of a church...

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Planet Fitness, the real-life Average Joe’s Gym, beat the Church to the punch. Often times the culture in which we currently are part of gets a pretty bad rap. It's the culture's fault that families don't come to church anymore. It's the culture's fault for having sports matches on days that students could be doing mission work. It's the culture's fault for taking Jesus out of public schools. It's the culture's fault for __________ (insert your own deflection).

Maybe, just maybe, it's not the culture's fault. Maybe its the church's fault for abdicating its position to lead. "It (the Church) might have determined their success or failures, but it failed to act. It waited until government took the initiative to rescue human rights." Will Campbell in his work Race and Renewal of the Church,  is talking about the church's role in race relations during the Civil Rights era. Because the church didn't act within her nature, society began to look elsewhere to hear and see what they knew to be true and right; the equality of all.

Now here we are, 2018, and the church is still missing its opportunity to lead. We're letting Planet Fitness beat us to the punch. 

Lord help us. Amen.   

When in doubt, head the opposite way.

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So...

This looks pretty official.

Something I have been wanting to do for several months was to attach an image to the Black Sheep Baptist banner. After a few weeks of searching around and talking ideas, I found a designer on Etsy who sent me several concepts one of them being the above piece. I wanted nothing flashy, something simple, and “black and white“ was a must. I think I got what I was looking for…

I often say I don’t know where this black sheep journey is going to take me. My writings and blog are a mixture of me processing my own personal questions concerning faith while also giving me a small platform to lend my misfit voice. I like the idea of going in the opposite direction of others, a contrarian per se. Seeing this image with the sheep seemingly headed left instead of right I took as a affirming sign...

Keep heading in that dissident direction.

Cheers,

~tBSB

Measuring Up.

I’m always astonished how the mind, particularly concerning the comprehension of memory, works. All sorts of things can trigger a memory. A song can come across a playlist that takes me back to 1995, or the smell of oatmeal cookies can transplant me back to my great aunt Minnie’s kitchen. These memories are more direct, but often it’s the completely randomness of a situation which can trigger a moment I haven’t thought about in years.

This week it was seeing the re-opening of a Chick-fil-A here in Winston-Salem.

Complete. Utter. Beautiful. Randomness.  

Lauren and I were in the car when I noticed the restaurant was open. For unknown reasons, my mind went to an old sermon I had heard from a pastor of a large church in Wilmington, NC. The pastor had worked there while in high school, stayed connected during college, and believed upon graduation he would continue with the company. Of course things changed, and during the interview process for a lucrative job within the corporation he confessed to his would- be- boss his “call” to go into ministry. The boss man was disappointed, but affirmed that the young man should do what he felt called to do. It was a good personal testimony type story and obviously I remembered it.

But the memory wouldn’t stop there, and my mind within a matter of seconds decided to venture down several different “rabbit holes.”

I began to think of how this pastor’s church had been very significant to me in my faith journey.

It was my first exposure to any type of “contemporary” church. A building that didn’t look like a typical church building, a worship experience with a full band and crazy lights, and a pastor who wore flip flops on stage.

It introduced me to “small groups.” Small groups were essential because the church was HUGE. I had been to what I thought a large church was, but seeing several thousand people meet over the course of the weekend was something new.

This is probably where I, for the first time, began to think theologically on issues. Meaning; we were presented with concepts and asked to discuss it within our groups. However, looking back now, I believe we were supposed to have come to the same conclusions. Yet, I did find the ability to develop my voice in this space.

It was the thought of “finding my voice” which made me remember one particular incident.

One of the groups the church had was geared towards new believers. I went through the class and really enjoyed it. At the end of several weeks, one of the leaders/facilitators approached me and said I should check into becoming a small group leader. I think what he saw in me was an eagerness to be involved and that I wasn’t afraid to talk in a discussion oriented environment (and come on, churches are always looking for volunteers). I sat in for a couple of weeks as an assisting facilitator, just helping drive and spark conversation. I felt it was a good fit and was super excited to pursue becoming a small group leader. Part of the process was training, but before that, one needed to meet with what I will describe now as the Small Group Pastor. This was the individual who oversaw all the leadership training and material taught during small group meetings. Think “CEO” type figure.

I met with this individual one afternoon and was told I was unfit to be a leader.

I remember the seemingly polite yet curt tone of their voice. The word “expectation” was used several times with different examples; one being that I shouldn’t be seen downtown going into Front Street Brewery. I can remember sitting there feeling like a kid in the principle office getting chastised for something I didn’t fully understand. Here I was a young person in my twenties who wanted to be at church. Hell, not only be, but wanted to help. And yet, according to this person, I didn’t measure up. I was told I needed to “do this and that” and perhaps later we could revisit the possibility of me volunteering. I left our meeting feeling insufficient and defeated.

It was one of the last times I ever went to church there.

In retrospect, I believe this person thought they were doing me a favor. I believe they thought they were holding me and themselves accountable to what they saw as biblical qualifications for leadership. I want to assume they had the best intentions for me, even though they really didn’t know me that well. Perhaps they felt they needed more time to judge my character? Honestly, I’m not sure…a decade has gone by and I don’t think I’ll ever get the full reason behind the decision. Not only am I okay with that, I’m thankful.

I’m thankful I didn’t listen to that person. I’m thankful I didn’t give them the finally word.

I left Wilmington shortly after this and found I did have a place to help volunteer and lead. I was encouraged by people in a positive way to pursue what I thought God had for me. I was told to ask questions, look into theological education, and get involved. I know it was the affirming voices I heard when I submitted my resume to the divinity school secretary at Campbell University. It was the affirming voices I heard when a church actually called me for an interview. It was those affirming voices I heard when I was offered my first youth minister position. Those affirming voices carried and granted me a confidence which I learned to grow into. The difference I believe from what those voices offered and the voice of that small group pastor in Wilmington was intention. I believe one wanted to correct me, while the other wished to guide me.

2018 will mark my 6th year in ministry. I’m thankful for all the voices which got me here, both good and bad. My hope for the New Year is to be an affirming voice for someone. To tell them they belong and how their voice is needed.

What would I say to that individual now, the one who told me I was unfit and was worried about me going into a brewery?

Let me tell you about this couple I prayed with in a bar one night. Their adult child was extremely sick. We talked, we prayed, and we drank Guinness together. It was an absolutely holy moment. Try not to affirm that.

 Cheers.

A Reawakening

A longer post derived from a paper I wrote during the Fall 2017 semester.

A longer post derived from a paper I wrote during the Fall 2017 semester.

A Reawakening

A Reconciling of Modern Baptist Faith in Regards to Anabaptist Teachings Concerning Oath Taking.

            The division over Baptist origins is palpable. While several different starting points are often cited, the one with the most mythology has to be the Anabaptist connection. While Landmarkism offered the view of Baptist faith being present in apostolic times, a Protestant heresy dealing with secessionism if there ever was one, a more commonly accepted explanation comes from the English Separatist Movement. Here the account of John Smyth and Thomas Helwys as the original founders of the Baptist faith is laid out. The Anabaptist connection, while either directly or simply spiritual in essence, bestowed upon Baptists in the 16th and 17th centuries and extending through today, offered many different influences ranging from the practice of baptism, the stance on war, and the separation of church and state. While individually these distinctions offer insight, they are rooted in a common understanding of swearing fealty and oath taking. Post modern Baptists have dissociated themselves from this concept and have unfortunately missed out on a viable tenet which possesses both historical and contemporary significance in how their confessed faith is practiced. If a correlation is found, Baptists today would need to question their voice on issues of the separation of church and state and their devotion to certain political parties. These issues revolve around a single question; what or whom does one swear to?

            Baptist Walter Shurden states in his work Not A Silent People that Baptists have always disagreed about their past to some degree, but recently have taken a laissez faire attitude toward their history and resorted to the phrase “let bygones be bygones.” However, Shurden is quick in not letting modern Baptists off the hook so easily. “That attitude is o.k., except for the impossibility of it. Bygones are not just bygones. Our bygones are not has-beens. They are still with us, helping and shortchanging us, damning and redeeming us, perverting and saving us.”[1] In Shurden’s opinion Baptists’ bygones are present whether they want to admit them or not. In other words, yes, the past is behind us, but only right behind us.

            Scholars such as Winthrop Hudson rejected Anabaptist influence, citing that modern Baptists are the result of English Congregationalism which identifies them more with Calvinistic and Puritan understandings of the Christian faith.[2] Hudson believed a more accurate commonality existed between modern Baptists with those called Particular Baptists who in the early years of the Reformation accepted oath swearing and rejected pacifism. In contrast, William Estep was a supporter of Anabaptist influence and referenced similarities between Anabaptist sects like the Dutch Mennonites to the early General Baptist group. “They not only practiced believers’ baptism but also held religious liberty, separation of the church and state, and Arminian views of salvation, predestination and original sin.”[3] More still, both groups “objected to swearing oaths, preferred a threefold ministry, and held a peculiar Hofmanite Christology which said Christ did not take His human flesh from Mary.”[4] Baptists have longed practiced dissidence within their own faith communities, Hudson and Estep continue the ongoing legacy of Baptists who disagree, much like those who represented General and Particular Baptist groups. Yet, the key component is that these men, and early faith communities, pulled from what they felt was a common source at least up to a point. While one can still see the direct influence of Particular Baptists and their Calvinistic understanding in modern Reformed Baptist traditions, a dogma of thinking which has found its way into the modern Southern Baptist Convention, one wonders of the lasting connection with those who come from the General Baptist tradition and hold closer to Anabaptist practices.

Iconoclast Baptist preacher Will D. Campbell was fixated on a shared Anabaptist ancestry.  In his fictional work, The Glad River, he tells the story of Mississippi Baptist Doops Momber who goes off to war and starts a close friendship with two other young men lasting a life time. Campbell’s character Doops has troubling thoughts about the act of baptism from an early age. His mother continues to pressure him about it before and after the war. Throughout the book Doops gives somewhat vague responses as to why he hasn’t been baptized nor saw it happening in his foreseeable future. It is only near the end of the book where Doops is sitting on the witness stand during a murder trial involving one of his close friends, Fordache, does he share with the reader his most clear answer as to why. During the scene, Doops is questioned about a fictional story he wrote while recovering from illness in an army hospital. Doops writes of a group of Christian believers living in Holland in the early 16th century. On the stand, Doops said he was inspired by a book entitled Martyrs Mirror which a pastor had given to him as a young boy. Doops's character is being questioned by the prosecuting attorney for not having been baptized. When Doops's counsel has the chance to cross examine his client the following conversation ensues;

‘What did the people you wrote about believe?” he said again. What made them different?’

‘They did not believe in baptizing infants. And because they did not believe in taking human life, would not go to war. They did not believe in the death penalty so they were not allowed to serve on juries. They believed the Church and the State should be completely separate. They would not swear, because they understood the scripture to forbid it. They led simple lives, did not engage in politics. And some of them, a few of them, practiced community of goods.’

‘And what exactly was that? ‘Community of goods’?’

‘They had a common treasury. Property and possessions were owned by the community, not the individuals. It was the only way they could survive in times of persecution.’

‘Mr. Momber, you admired the people you wrote about, didn’t you?’

‘Yes, sir. I still do.’

‘Do you know anybody like that today? Like they were?

‘No, sir. Not so far.’

‘And if you found someone like they were, would you ask them to baptize you?’

‘Yes, sir.’[5]

 Campbell, through his character of Doops Momber, would suggest the kind of Baptist he was searching for was believed extinct. Campbell affirms his belief of an Anabaptist connection, seemingly suggesting the last fire warming this idea by modern observance had grown dim but had not completely been snuffed out.

            With enough shared support of some relation, while debatable, between Anabaptist and modern Baptist, the issue comes to whether any modern Baptists still hold to Anabaptist tenets. The reason for the debate is linked to the lack of practice seen. How would one compare these differences? One of the earliest confessions expressing a standard set of beliefs is the Schleitheim Confession from 1527. The confession, attributed to a group of Anabaptist led by Michael Sattler, consisted of seven articles. The last of these dealt with oath taking.

Christ, who teaches the perfection of the Law, prohibits all swearing to His [followers], whether true or false, - neither by heaven, nor by the earth, nor by Jerusalem, nor by our head, - and that for the reason which He shortly gives, For you are not able to make one hair white or black. So you see it is for this reason that all swearing is forbidden: we cannot fulfill that wich we promise when we swear, for we cannot change [even] the very least thing on us.[6]

 The gravity of oath taking affected many of the other six articles, such as the community's shared beliefs around non-violence and the self imposed separation from the evils of the world. “To us then the command of the Lord is clear when He calls upon us to be separate from the evil and thus He will be our God and we shall be His sons and daughters.”[7] This form of separation from the world would include refraining from holding governmental positions of power, specifically that of a magistrate. Failure to uphold these beliefs would result in “the ban” a form of excommunication.

            To ban members along with the imposed removal of oneself from society is extreme. Special attention and reflection are meant to be given to those like the Amish who have separated themselves from the cultural norms and worldly ways. While not openly observed, most modern Baptists could practice such beliefs if they so desired. Of all the differences between Baptists, all would agree upon the virtue of freedom. For most Baptists, these freedoms are often referred to as “fragile” since they are loosely held with determination and are not to be confused with any sort of creed. Bible, Soul, Church, and Religious freedom grant Baptists today with the autonomous ability to decide for themselves what they emphasize in their faith.

            For those observing Baptist life today in the 21st century, one would think swearing allegiance to a cause or country was required, and this thought could be supported and traced back to Particular Baptist roots. Where are the descendents of the General Baptists with their “fragile” affiliation to Anabaptists?

The customary Anabaptist objection to the oath was based on a literal interpretation of Christ’s injunction against swearing. However, it also had reference to the qualitative aspects of the Christian witness. For the Christian, Anabaptist believed the oath was unnecessary because the Anabaptist was always under the obligation to tell the truth. It was impossible because no one had the power over all circumstances in this life to order them subject to his own will, which an oath in their eyes implied.[8]

 To swear loyalty to a governing body would be to suggest the powers of said body had influence over those of individual mandates determined by God. The separation which both Anabaptist and early Baptists would come to be defined by would imply ruling persons or institutions possessed the right to interfere with the relationship between the individual and God. In the same manner, Anabaptists did not see themselves as re-baptizers since they saw their infant baptism as invalid, so to swear or take an oath meant that additional acknowledgments had to be made which essentially made being a Christian insufficient  when it came to the matters of giving testimony. The reasons these affiliations are “fragile” are because no modern Baptist proclaim this freedom, and freedom needs to be expressed in order to be recognized. There lies an individual component to the Baptist identity; the ability for a person to express their faith in the means they hold to be sacred. And this revelation is not meant for just those professing the Baptist faith! What makes the Baptist tenet of expressing their religious freedom so unique is the desire fo others to experience the same freedom, be they Christians or not.

            Modern Baptists in the West exist in a time and place very different than their spiritual ancestors. Those who were once persecuted have now become the majority. The United States claims that just over 70% of their citizens are Christians[9], and of that amount over 15 million are Southern Baptist[10] (the largest Protestant denomination in the U.S.). Along with other groups like the American and National Baptists, the once small and underground movement has now becoming a formidable juggernaut with considerable influence. During the 1980’s the term Moral Majority was coined by Baptist minister Jerry Falwell. Falwell performed a number of large rallies under the banner “I Love America.” Falwell and others fundamentalists, who would be designated as the New Religious Right, would ask those who shared similar views to rally around their country and swear an unwavering loyalty to the state. James Dunn would speak to this by saying, “The same revisionist working for present fundamentalist leadership of the nation’s largest Baptist body (SBC) have trouble coming to terms with Baptist heritage.”[11] This heritage Dunn refers to flows from the same source which produced Michael Sattler and Conrad Grebel. The loss of this relationship has left modern Baptists with a one-sided story.

            For Modern Baptists to swear allegiance goes against the very nature of a people who claim to be anti-creedal. With a creed representing a set of core beliefs, the freedom to hold to those beliefs is where Baptists have been, at their best, advocates for a right intended for all. A distinction should be pointed out between the difference of swearing an oath and confession of one’s faith.  

Despite varieties of length, authorship, and content, all the early confessions were just that: confessions. Early Baptist never elevated their confessions to the status of creeds. Twentieth-century usage makes less difference between confession and creeds, but the differences were both real and important to early Baptist. A confession affirms what a group of Baptist, large of small, believes at any given time and place; a creed prescribes what members must believe. Confessions include; creeds exclude.[12]

 Nationalism is creedal in the way it excludes those who are not part of whatever country is demanding loyalty. Early Baptists understood the state within itself as not being solely evil or opposed to God, but the power and principalities which the state could create by means of its people could begin to oppose God and thus cause persons to inflict harm on one another.  The state was ordained by God to carry out certain functions, such as to oversee the punishment of criminals and to help establish order in a chaotic world. Offices, such as magistrate, were formed to uphold these laws. Yet, the state had no jurisdiction over the right of how an individual practiced their religion. This indicates the state could not enforce or coerce a person to do so, which makes sense, because a person is not enforced or coerced by God. “This position was derived from the Anabaptist conviction that faith cannot be coerced.”[13] A direct time can be seen here in this Anabaptist understanding and modern Baptists who believe in Soul Freedom. Soul Freedom implies that no one should be forced to believe a certain way concerning religion, and this shared belief of a coercion free faith is what supports the Baptist idea of a voluntary conversion as being on par with a sacramental experience. “To try and make someone believe what they honestly don’t believe exploits both the individual and the biblical meaning of faith.[14]

            This is not to say that all Anabaptists or Early General Baptists were Christian anarchists. In the case of General Baptists, most would affirm their loyalty to the crown, but would refuse to take the following step of reciting an oath. Even with their admitted support, the lack of a given oath cost them dearly as they suffered different forms of harassment and persecution. This caused some General Baptists by the late 17th century to change their views and become more open to oaths, accepting them as worldly authorities which still allowed the separation between church and state on some level. Even with this alteration, most General Baptists of the time would not allow their members to serve as magistrates. The apparent disdain for the office of magistrate might have been the result of the martyrdom of Michael Sattler who professed to the officials charging him with heresy that they had judged him falsely since he and his fellow Anabaptists had done nothing to challenge the local authorities. It was clearly believed magistrates had acted out of their role towards Sattler and others, and both Anabaptists and early Baptists held the memory of his trial as being an abuse of power acted out by the state. During his trial Sattler also made the distinction of recognizing and affirming the power of the magistrate in state concerns, but disregarded their authority when it came to anything dealing with spiritual matters. As James Dunn once said, “Believing in the separation of church and state doesn’t make one a Baptist. But it is hard to believe that one could be a Baptist and not cling tenaciously to that baptistic doctrine.”[15]

            One of the norms of Christian theology is the lived experience of the individual. To acknowledge the connection between early Baptists and Anabaptists means those who claim this inheritance must live into the call it presents before them. The lived experience is justified in Baptist life by freedoms previously discussed in this article; Bible, Church, Soul, and Religious Freedom. These allow Baptists to be nonconforming on the matters of oaths and on the subject of creeds. While creeds point to how a people or generation understood their faith they are in essence exhaustive. They represent the intentions of a time, and while granting insight, should encourage those of faith to search for new meaning. Not swearing towards comprehensive list of what being a Baptist looks like is exactly the point and beauty of being a Baptist. Meaning, one can claim Anabaptist influence and ancestry if desired. William Powell Tuck says it this way, “As Baptists, we affirm no theological statement is ever final or complete. No one person or group of persons can formulate our theology for us and say that this is what we have to believe. Our forefathers and mothers have fought and died for this tradition.”[16] This goes for the past as well, no one group gets full credit for what modern Baptists are today. The shared characteristics of the Anabaptists should be embraced and be weaved into the Baptist story of faith and appreciated for all the diversity it brings. Many voices comprise a chorus. Modern Baptists would do well to remember the compelling voices of their Anabaptist forbearers.  

 

[1] Shurden, Walter B. Not a Silent People: Controversies that have shaped Southern Baptists. (Macon, GA: Smyth & Helwys Pub., 1995), 9

[2] MacBeth, H. Leon. The Baptist Heritage. (Nashville, TN: Broadman Press, 1987), 51

[3] Ibid., 53

[4] Ibid., 53

[5] Campbell, Will D. The Glad River. (New York, NY: Holt, Rinehart and Winston, 1982), 245

[6] The Schleitheim Confession, 1527

[7] Ibid.

[8] Estep, William R. The Anabaptist story: an introduction to sixteenth-century Anabaptism. (Grand Rapids (Mich.): Eerdmans, 1996), 261

[9] Wormald, Benjamin. "Religious Landscape Study." Pew Research Center's Religion & Public Life Project. May 11, 2015. Accessed December 14, 2017. http://www.pewforum.org/religious-landscape-study/.

[10] "Southern Baptist Convention." Southern Baptist Convention > Fast Facts About the SBC. Accessed December 18, 2017. http://www.sbc.net/BecomingSouthernBaptist/FastFacts.asp.

[11] Cothen, Grady C., and James M. Dunn. Soul Freedom: Baptist Battle Cry. (Macon, GA: Smyth & Helwys, 2000), 43 Parentheses mine

[12] MacBeth, H. Leon. The Baptist Heritage. (Nashville, TN: Broadman Press, 1987), 66-67

[13] Estep, William R. The Anabaptist story: an introduction to sixteenth-century Anabaptism. (Grand Rapids (Mich.): Eerdmans, 1996), 263

[14] Shurden, Walter B. The Baptist Identity: Four Fragile Freedoms. (Macon, GA: Smyth & Helwys Pub., 1993), 27

[15] Cothen, Grady C., and James M. Dunn. Soul Freedom: Baptist Battle Cry. (Macon, GA: Smyth & Helwys, 2000), 46

[16] Tuck, William Powell. Our Baptist Tradition. (Macon, GA: Smyth & Helwys Pub., 1993), 19

Education, Ordination, and Elmer's Glue.

One of the few things I believe Facebook gets right is their reminder of “memories” to its users. By memories, I mean photos which show up on an individual time line pointing them back to an event which took place on that same date a year, or even several, years ago. A few weeks back I received the notification of one of these memories; my ordination.

Being in Divinity school, there‘s a lot of talk between students concerning ordination. Wake Forest School of Divinity is a very ecumenical institution where Unitarian Universalist, Methodist, Lutherans, Catholics, Disciples of Christ, and several different flavors of Baptist walk the halls together. All these traditions support different requirements for ordination; some demanding so much education before being considered while others require psychological evaluations.

Speaking for Baptist, the local church determines those prerequisites.

The last few weeks I’ve been spurred to think about my ordination and the process I experienced at my first and former church. The process started in the summer of 2015 and by September a date was agreed up. I was given a series of question to answers before having to sit in front of a committee made up of men and women of the congregation. I admit I was nervous, but once inside the room I distinguished that this was not an inquisition of my beliefs. Instead sitting before those people who I had grown to love and them me, I felt nothing but a spirit of affirmation being given to me. After an hour they voted to ordain me. They planned a service for me in November, another gift, and I invited a few people to speak who had been with me on my journey. I kneeled in the front of the church before all present and people came forward and laid hands upon me…praying, blessing, and pouring what they had of the divine into my being.

This memory rushed back to me as I sat with two other young pastors from different denominations who are going through a rigorous ordination process. During our conversation, one of them posed the question, “Don’t you think you should have to have a certain level of education before that happens?”

This got me to thinking.

While I do agree that theological education is needed, higher education is transactional by nature. I submit a paper and my professor is required to give me a grade. I do this so that they might do that. It’s a give and take sort of relationship that carries a certain form of expectation from both parties.

The way I view my ordination is different than how I view my theological education. My ordination was given; it was a gift. I did nothing to earn it. The church which ordained me verified the hope they saw in me. Arguably, there was nothing I could give them in return of equal value except my service driven by my love and appreciation for them.

Will D. Campbell was ordained in the same Baptist tradition as I. Years later he took his ordination certificate signed by his pastor, his father, and another family member and glued it on top of his divinity degree from Yale University. For Brother Will, the recognition by those individuals at East Fork Baptist Church in Mississippi meant more to him than his Ivey League degree.

 I enjoyed my time at Campbell University and am doing the same at Wake Divinity, but to the people of Lillington Baptist Church in Harnett County NC…I am forever grateful.

And maybe, after it’s all said and done, perhaps I’ll break out the Elmer’s as well to remind myself that it’s not my accomplishments which got me to where I am today. It’s the people who loved me and charged me to “keep telling the Jesus story.”

A Few New Things...

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A few quick announcements, none bigger than yesterdays obviously, as we move into the 2018.

I’ve made a few small changes to my CONNECT page. I’m expecting 2018 to be a wonderfully hectic year (again see yesterday’s post) and wanted to make connecting with me a bit easier. On the CONNECT page you’ll notice the ability to schedule what I would call “hang out” times with me. I’m using a service called Calendly to make this happen. So if you want to grab a bite to eat, get coffee, or maybe even sip on something a bit stronger...this is a good resource to reach out and get in touch with me. Of course email and text work too, but this syncs with my Google calendar. Yeah, pretty sweet I know.

I’ve also added my Twitter feed to the bottom of the CONNECT page. Come check out my short profound “wittery” by following me @CoxReverendred on Twitter.

And lastly, moving into 2018 I want to make it a point to host more “black sheep” voices. I’m by no means an exhaustive voice for displaced Baptist, and I am wanting to offer others the chance to add their thoughts and beliefs to the black sheep narrative. Look for guest contributors from other denominational and faith traditions early in the new year.

As you were,

tBSB

Bone of My Bone, Flesh of My Flesh.

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Being Baptist I know mentioning certain words such as inerrant or authoritative can cause church folks ears to perk up, especially surrounding the creation stories found in Genesis chapters 1 and 2. Now, I’m not here to debate the fallibility of scripture. That fight was fought in Baptist churches, seminaries, and backyards a generation ago leaving both sides to rub sore scars to this day. I believe no matter which side of the divide you come down on, ole’ Adam was on to something when he mumbled the words, “bone of my bone and flesh of my flesh.” For Adam, a shift had taken place in the way he understood his own life. I imagine Adam beginning to comprehend several notions in the moment Eve stood before him. One, how small the world could seem as he stood in her awe inspiring presence, and two, all of this (creation) isn’t just about me anymore (as if it ever were).

I felt like I was in Adam’s sandals (Adam probably went barefoot, but bare with me) this past summer when my wife Lauren came to me and uttered those two words representing love, hope, and certainly fear;

“I’m pregnant.”

Bone of my bone and flesh of my flesh.

Lots of things go through one’s mind when they hear those words. The first usually being “thank you God” followed by “oh my God, I hope we can afford this baby” and one for me personally, “God, please let me survive divinity school and a newborn!”

Our emotions went through the gamut in the following weeks. We waited awhile before we told our parents. We waited even longer before we told close friends and other family members. So much can happen in those first few months and we wanted to wait until we knew the kid’s gender before we let the news become common knowledge. On the 19th week, Lauren and I went into the doctor’s office, and while watching this human like shape move around on a computer screen that had a heartbeat attached to it, the nurse informed us we were having a little girl.

Bone of my bone and flesh of my flesh.

Since hearing those words, my eyes and ears have become open in new ways. I look at the news and read about injustice towards women in our world. Lately, I’ve seen new sexual harassment charges being brought upon male celebrities almost every other day for the past two months. Statistics, which I knew about, began to get personal; such as the gender pay gap. While I had always been for the equality of women, knowing my child could be discriminated against because of her gender was the breaking point. I would need to become an active participant in ways I hadn’t before to help ensure her future choices and freedoms.

Where to start in this endeavor? Well, that was actually pretty easy.

I’m starting with the church.

Recently I was having a discussion with someone about allowing a blessing to be administered to our baby. I still hold relatively strong convictions toward a believer’s baptism, but my wife and I love the idea of having a very ecumenical blessing when the time comes. Leaders representing all different denominations and faiths will charge and offer encouragement to us that we, and our daughter, are not alone in this journey. During the discussion, the person mentioned their own tradition and how only men could perform this task. Immediately I saw the issue and said I wouldn’t feel comfortable allowing that tradition to bless our child. The idea of exposing our daughter to a tradition where she is seen as a second class citizen has huge theological implications to me. If our daughter couldn’t perform the same function as her male counterparts in the same situation what would we be teaching her?

Since becoming involved in the Cooperative Baptist Fellowship I have met women who represent the best of us who call ourselves Baptist. These women are whom I attend school and share class space with. They offer a perspective which I do not possess and most certainly need to hear. They will be the examples I point to when our daughter looks to see what her place is in the Baptist church. Sure, I’ll tell her of Ann Hasseltine Judson and Alice Armstrong and of Molly Marshall and Karen E. Smith, but hopefully she’ll get to meet and hear for herself women like Amy Butler and Susan Sparks.

For the past 25 years, the Cooperative Baptist Fellowship has made space for such women, and yet we as a denomination still have a long way to go. Baptist William Powell Tuck wrote concerning the significance of the priesthood of all believers. “Let us identify and acknowledge the gift of every Christian. Let us then recognize and affirm those gifts to service for Christ to glorify and build up the body of Christ, the church.”

In the near future, my wife and I will stand and be charged with raising our daughter in our Christian faith. However, I would like to charge the church with a similar task.

That we as Cooperative Baptist we’ll do more for raising women into positions of leadership within our churches. 6.5% is not enough.

That we as Cooperative Baptist will work to cultivate true sanctuaries; where women’s voices can be heard without having to shout.

That we as Cooperative Baptist will not only do this inside the church walls, but outside where standing in support and solidarity with women is just as needed.

In The Challenge of Being Baptist church historian Bill Leonard writes, “If Baptist identity is to be carried beyond midcentury it must be reasserted, reinterpreted, and reformed – and none too soon.” As Baptist we are called to do this sort of work not only for our own children, but for the generations to come. Consider this your official invitation; to help co-create a world where my daughter could stand in your pulpit one day.