"Our Church": It's bigger than a building

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Well, we’ve officially been “flatlanders” right at two months now and are starting to form some type of new routine. Part of that process for me is personally discovering what it means to be present in the village (I’m still wrapping my mind around using that term; village. People often talk about the importance of being present with others. I watched a video not long ago with a speaker describing the signal it sends to others when we leave our cell phone on the table when we meet with them and it encouraged me to either leave mine behind or in my pocket when I sit across from someone. You’d be surprised at how hard it is at times to be present, but just like most things, it becomes rather easy when you’re intentional about it. Small steps are key to making any kind of change “stick”, and those have been helpful to me as I begin to form relationships with my new neighbors.

I was excited about one such relationship possibility forming the other week. I was invited to help take part in the Vermont READS 2019 state-wide reading program. This year, citizens of Vermont are encouraged to read the graphic novel March: Book One written by Congressman and Civil Rights Leader John Lewis. The book is co-authored by Andrew Aydin and illustrated by Nate Powell. The work focuses on John Lewis’ upbringing and introduction to non-violence practices in order to bring attention and change to a very segregated 1950-60’s United States. In reading this work, it becomes very apparent that Lewis’ actions were driven by his faith. Readers will also see the importance of the African American Church during that time as being not only a “house of prayer,” but a community meeting house for Civil Rights activists. I can’t help but think that this role is something the universal church needs to reclaim for our own time today.

My church was fortunate to have received a few copies which will be available for parishioners to borrow. My hope is that by engaging in this text some will feel moved to take part in a community discussion later in the year when students from the local Community School will be sharing their thoughts as well. This is an opportunity for a community to not only “know” what their children are reading, but a chance for them to participate as well.

This collaboration lends itself to a lot of chatter I’ve heard from those in the community that don’t hearken the church doors. For example, a church member was talking recently to an individual who doesn’t attend any church service and was explaining who I was. “Oh, he's our new pastor.” You see, this thing we’re part of is bigger then a building. I feel the same way, just because you don’t attend a church service doesn’t mean you aren’t part of my community.

Here’s to sitting across the table, without our phones, and having real community.

As you were,


~tBSB


Settling in the Green Mountain State: An Update On Our Move North.

Strolling back to the parsonage

Strolling back to the parsonage

For all paperwork purposes, today is the official start of my becoming the new senior pastor of a United Church in Vermont. For 5 months, Lauren and I have packed and prepared for this moment all the while with Violet at our feet. We left Winston-Salem in a whirlwind; our house on the market and hooding/graduation altered to fit our early departure. Even the act of actually leaving proved difficult as one of our cats became spooked and hid in a crawl space for several hours. So much for planning and smooth sails.

Wake Divinity helped make my intimate graduation ceremony truly special.

Wake Divinity helped make my intimate graduation ceremony truly special.


Vermont has welcomed us with colder temperatures, something we are appreciative for after coming from the land of perpetual humidity. We had meals awaiting us in the fridge with a few different jugs of maple syrup added for good measure. Our belongings showed up later in the week and several of my new parishioners showed up to lend a hand in getting the items off the trailer and into the parsonage. Getting unloaded was one thing, finding a home for them was another challenge. Fortunately, several folks volunteered to come over and “distract” Violet for a few hours each day so Lauren and I could get stuff put away.

Enjoying an evening bonfire, guitar strumming, and sampling of Vermont’s local brew with some of my new neighbors.

Enjoying an evening bonfire, guitar strumming, and sampling of Vermont’s local brew with some of my new neighbors.


There has been so much generosity I could blush. I’ll save those stories for a more personal setting. Folks give pretty freely here. That was a draw fo us as a family. We saw a place that depending on one another for community...and dared go a bit further by embodying what it means to love thy neighbor. Lots of words have been used to describe this move North,


An adventure.

An experiment.

A journey.


I like to think I’m sensitive to language, and while all these descriptors fit, it’s hard not to see what we’ve done as accepting “a call” in the truest and most vulnerable sense. Lauren accepted this call as much as me and while we are certainly not a “two for one” package. Her role alongside me will be cardinal. I’ve often pushed back against the term “professional” and have even found myself at odds with “vocation.” Being “called” is about the only thing that I feel comfortable with claiming. Call leaves some opportunity and chance up in the air for God’s Spirit to move in and out of freely. I didn’t come to Vermont with an agenda or plan as to how to better do church. I came with my family to try and walk with people in life and on a spiritual level. The hope is that together with my neighbors we can find some new ways to tell the Jesus story and see what is possible when the Kingdom of God comes near us.


Sitting in my office this early morning...I’m excited about Sunday.

I’m also pretty excited about the rest of the week too.

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As you were,

~tBSB





A Tradition of Dissent

Below you’ll find a post which sprang from a paper I submitted for a Baptist Identity course in seminary. To read the original work with all its pretty citation and footnotess, please CLICK HERE.

Below you’ll find a post which sprang from a paper I submitted for a Baptist Identity course in seminary. To read the original work with all its pretty citation and footnotess, please CLICK HERE.

The label of baptist carries with it many connotations. For my rearing in the rural south, the term was synonymous with red carpeted sanctuaries, red hot Vacation Bible School summers, and perhaps most prominently, red-faced delivered “hell and brimstone” filled sermons from the pulpit. Not until much later did I realize there were “other baptists”, and with them, other traditions that resonated with me more so than the aforementioned experiences of my adolescence. Part of one’s faith is remembrance and how one practices this both as an individual and as a community is essential to what is vital as passing on to one's spiritual descendants. While there are many respected fragile baptist beliefs worth mentioning, a rich tradition of dissent is often ignored. My hope is to engage and educate my future congregation about our heritage of opposition to unjust systems of “power and principalities” of this world.

Why is exploring a topic such as dissent beneficial to a faith community? Surely, baptists have participated and have no lack of disruptive church splits! While I want to acknowledge this occurrence within baptist life, I believe it is worth noting that in the spirit of baptist identity centered around the belief for the liberty of the individual conscience, disagreements and fractures are to be expected. For baptists, the issue of identity should not be determined by conformity, but instead, identity viewed as a call to be authentic and covenantal in meaning to one’s life.  For those like British baptist Paul Fiddes, “It is not that we share an already-existing identity through establishing a common list of agreed items, but we willing identify ourselves with others who want to make or keep covenant with us because we catch an echo of their story in us.” The call of baptist as a collective is then to be receptive to not only the call of God on the heart and conscience but also to those around us. Because this is a covenant rather than transactional interaction, dissension should not be seen as a weakening fracture or a “social disease” but instead, the opportunity to experience breaking away from “absurd confinements in manners and morals, against the fatuous kowtowing of body or of mind, against the circumscribing of vision or of aspiration, against the evil that men do in the name of good, against indifference, insensitivity, and inertia.” Embodying this position has many forms as dissent is as different in scale and scope as baptists communities, however, to adopt a spirit of dissent both culturally and spiritually is to pay homage to a Christian praxis which has historically scorned creeds and doctrines.

Historian Edwin Gaustad warns those wishing to practice dissent not to fall into the category of societal nay-sayer or whiner. He offers an alternative take on what dissent is, saying it should offer “a fine edge; sharp, severe, and unyielding...a powerful if unpredictable engine in the service of a cause. ” For baptists; who are those in our history exemplifying a spirit of dissent? One need only look at baptist beginnings and nonconformist founders John Smyth and Thomas Helwys. Smyth would administer a self-imposed believers baptism upon himself, seeing this as being essential to authentic conversion while Helwys, leaving Smyth in Holland to return to England, would pen a defiant letter to King James I reminding the King that he too was only a man and not God. From these two individuals comes a floodgate of what could be labeled as baptists “other.”

Writer Kathleen Norris in her work The Cloister Walk offers a name for those practicing dissent by labeling them as “necessary others,” linking them to the prophets of the Hebrew scripture. Dissenters and necessary others gift the masses with difficult messages and questions while often experiencing hostility and discrimination in the process. Baptists in history have been no different. “For being ‘other,’ Baptists were often branded as heretics. Ostracized and persecuted, they were frequently banished, jailed or beaten by order of Christian governments.”

For those like Smyth and Helwys; what would cause an individual and a faith community to act in such a way as to invite the negative attention of governing bodies upon them? In other words; why start trouble? I purpose that for Christian dissenters no other reason is as adequate as that of God’s Holy Spirit demanding such. The Spirit being an expression of God’s character accessible to humanity offering the purpose for one’s life on earth. In the words of James McClendon, Jr., “The Spirit is missionary; the Spirit provides for each disciple; the Spirit is gathered church.” It is with McClendon’s view of the Spirit and Christian mission which I see as rooted in dissent. The life and mission of Christ was to expose a way of life contrary to the rule and power of empire. Jesus was a missionary to everyone, both in and outside of his Jewish faith. He brought a message that preached practice over theology, often starting sentences with You’ve heard that it said...but I tell you… Jesus through his teachings shared with those he encountered that the Kingdom of God had come near them and this message ran in contrast to what people were currently being told. Instead, McClendon suggests that mission be experienced as a move toward ecstasy, and believes this mission of the Spirit draws all of humanity and creation to “not conformed one to another, but at one with another in the oneness of God.” To live a life of nonconformity is a direct call to dissent to any laws and norms which does not bring all of creation back to God. The Spirit’s mission can be viewed as a continuation of God’s missionary process for reconciliation.

While the history of the early baptists points to dissension as a marker of identity, dissenters, iconoclasts, and renegades are found in other spiritual flocks. McClendon again offers an aspect of the Spirit’s mission as accepting partners. Partners in dissent? Sound like a oxymoron, however, baptists holding tightly to their belief of the priesthood of all believers should see everyone called to God’s mission of dissent. This work then becomes a partnership of both neighbors and God. Again, the life of Jesus Christ is seen as the incarnational completion of God’s mission of disruption. A mission where dissenters are asked to participate fully in the life of the world. Dissenting baptist, like the late Will D. Campbell, understood the priesthood as extending to every believer. Once asked by an interviewer about the statement he made in his work Brother to a Dragonfly of his desire to only be a preacher and if he viewed that work as his vocation (Campbell became well known for his work during the Civil Rights Movement concerning racial reconciliation, he only ever occupied one traditional pulpit in his life), he answered, “Sure it still holds, but I get nervous about the word, ‘vocation.’ My vocation - if you mean ‘calling’ - is no different from that of any other baptized believer. My vocation is living out the drama. Dissenters in the likes of Campbell aren’t so much the cause of drama but are called to respond to the drama that they see in the world around them.

Lastly from McClendon, he reminds those who have gathered together that “God’s action is not confined to gathered congregations. “There is also history’s crashing judgment; there is also the prophet’s manic word; supremely, there is that one life who is Life itself.” Yet, something special happens when through God’s missional spirit acts are carried out through the revelation of God’s ekklesia or church. Accepting the Spirit’s mission of dissent inside “the gathered community, for all its frailty and fallibility, will become the Spirit’s agency for the world mission of the gospel” is to acknowledge like the ancient church of Jerusalem, Antioch, and Rome their and our shortcomings are supplemented by the active means of the Spirit to accomplish God’s mission in the world. The mission of God’s Spirit accompanying the gathering of rejected misfits, which is the Church at its best, then becomes not a place of harmony but one of healthy friction reflecting an image of God’s kingdom attainable now.

It has been preached from baptist pulpits that there is no “Baptist church only Baptist churches.” The autonomy of the local church is a cry of dissent to the idea of the state established church. With baptist churches being comprised and self-regulated by their congregations, one’s ability to strive for agreement and solidarity becomes the default for those living in community with one another. After some time the virtues and positions of a few become the virtues and positions of all. All this is disrupted by the Spirit in the presence of a dissenter. Gaustad uses the term “misfit” as a label for dissension. “Churchmen fear the schismatic and theologians abhor the heretic, but the misfit is repugnant to all.” He continues,

Awkward on both sides, to be sure. The misfit himself would find life much smoother if the melting pot really did homogenize all. Yet, to allow oneself to slide gently into the absorptive mass may be to forsake all sense of identity and integrity. Accommodation to the surrounding smothering culture may mean death, at least as far as corporate continuity is concerned. A treasured heritage, a religious thrust, a way of life - these may all be lost. A genuine counter-culture seeks not the preservation of individual eccentricity but the survival and renewal of common life. Assimilation could make life simpler; it could also make it pointless.


Until now, this writing has focused on the explicit need for dissension in baptist life. Moving forward, I will address in detail some of those whose actions caused them to be labeled as misfits by either their religion or society.

One cannot talk of dissent within a baptist context and not mention Puritan minister turned baptist Roger Williams (he would later embrace the faith of a “seeker”). Williams would strongly push for the separation of church and state by denouncing the   Church of England’s involvement with the American colonial churches. He would openly debate the prominent clergyman of the Massachusetts Bay Colony, John Cotton. The two would exchange barbs on a variety of interpretations, one being the concerning of women wearing veils inside the church. However, Williams did not only speak out on matters pertaining to the church. “Williams was especially troubled by the use of the Christian religion to do a very un-Christian deed: namely, depriving the Indians of their own property without due compensation or negotiation. For five years Williams acted as the defacto dissenter to those in power in Massachusetts Bay. Finally, his constant pestering saw him exiled from the colony in the Fall of 1635 for sharing his rebellious teachings and opinions. In 1636 Williams and those who followed him settled on a piece of land purchased from the local indigenous people in what is now Rhode Island. Williams designated it a destination distressed of conscience. This land would become a place that welcomed all religions and those who were dissenting misfits of the new world among them labeled Antinomian Anne Hutchinson. While Williams actions to some, certainly those like Cotton, seemed divisive, Williams push for the liberty of conscience and sought in his desire to make all peoples free and equal. In one of his writings,

Williams raised the question of how the English would respond if Jesus ‘were present here at London.’ If asked which religion Jesus would endorse, each citizen would shout for his own option to be chosen. But then if Christ should be asked about what weapons he would provide to that religion for which Parliament ultimately voted, all England would learn that no weapons of steel would be provided, only the instruments of persuasion (not coercion) and love.

Williams would continue to be the voice of the necessary other for the rest of his life, condemning slavery in the early 1650s and holding varying positions of influence in his newly chartered Providence Plantation.

One of the most famous letters of dissent every written is one of the most revered pieces of Civil Rights history. Martin Luther King Jr.’s Letter from Birmingham Jail was a national call to the attention of the systematic oppression being experienced by African Americans of his day (and long before). While many associate King’s works with his activism in the 1960s, King’s motivation to action, expressed poignantly in his Birmingham letter, came from his black baptist heritage. King was considered to be part of black church royalty with his father being the pastor of the prominent Ebenezer Baptist Church in Atlanta. He was in both public and private schools growing up before receiving admittance into Morehouse College. From there he would attend both Crozer Seminary and Boston University in his pursuit of theological education. Although King was assured to follow in his father’s footsteps as the next pastor of his family’s church, King would only ever hold an associate pastorate there as his engagement around Civil Rights became his life’s work. King’s dissent would take him to the public square. After receiving the Nobel Peace Prize in 1964 the following year, “in 1965, almost alone among Black civil rights leaders, he made public his opposition to the Vietnam War (this was two years before Muhammad Ali would refuse to serve in the armed forces). King would speak out against other forms of injustice taking place, famously drawing attention to the Montgomery bus struggle in the late 1950s. While King’s voice was at home in black churches, his work around social issue gained attention. King had read the writings of another baptist dissenter, Walter Rauschenbusch, and come to embrace similar thinking around the concept of the social gospel movement. The timing and brilliance of King saw a convergence between two worlds take place.

Although the social gospel churches had sometimes become centers of social amelioration, providing counseling, fellowship, clothing and work for the down-and-out, their direct attack upon oppressive institutions had been made by way of pulpit and press. By shifting from preachers’ talk to nonviolent mass action, King’s group introduced a new dimension into American social Christianity.


King’s call for dissension in his Birmingham letter comes directly for those he accuses of being the “Negros great stumbling block.” King say’s “it is not the White Citizen Counciler or the Ku Klux Klanner, but the white moderate, who is more devoted to ‘order’ than to justice; who prefers negative peace which is the absence of tension to a positive peace which is the presence of justice.” King makes clear that those seeking peace and harmony often do so at the expense of those who have no means within a society to voice their mistreatment and disapproval.

And then there was Will Davis Campbell. A Mississippi baptist born into a sharecropper family in 1924, Campbell would first dissent against his southern upbringing by attending divinity school at the northern Yale University. Campbell would come back to the south after graduation and from his small Louisiana pulpit preach on civil rights and the need for racial reconciliation. Campbell was a preacher without a steeple and his curmudgeon demeanor and dry humor went often unappreciated in more pious religious circles. Leaving both a pastorate and director of religious life at Ole Miss University, Campbell would strike out as a voice and face behind the scenes during the Civil Rights Movement. He would attend demonstrations in an advisory role for the National Councils of Churches. This exposure would see Campbell be the only white man at the MLK’s Southern Christian Leadership Conference and later elected to the position of director of the Committee of Southern Churchmen. Yet, Campbell would experience a change after the death of his friend and activist Jonathan Daniels. Because of Daniels death, he would begin to minister to those he saw as part of the group he thought Jesus would call the least of these; poor southern whites, or as Campbell often said, his fellow rednecks. Campbell would draw criticism from both conservative and liberal camps, never letting either pigeon hole him. His writings are an expression of his vulnerability, a willingness he shows through his dissenting position to seemingly take the other side of any argument given to him. While his autobiographical work engages his activism, his fictional work gives another form of insight to his need for dissent. Often describing himself as a baptist who is southern and not a Southern Baptist, Campbell criticizes his own people, baptists, in The Convention. In what he describes as a parable, Campbell’s female protagonist, Dorcas Rose McBride attends his version of the Southern Baptist Conventions annual gathering and after interactions with those of the moral majority and the more moderate-minded, ends up getting nominated to be the next President of the convention. After the unthinkable happens, Dorcas makes her way down to what is expected to be her acceptance speech, instead, she reads to the shocked audience of Jesus’ temptation in the wilderness by Satan and then “she closed the book, walked over to the recording secretary and handed him the gavel. ‘Mister Secretary, I hereby resign as president of the Federal Baptist Church.” Like his character Dorcas, Campbell represented baptists who have not conform to the expectations of others and extends the challenge for those with ears to hear to do the same.

Like communion and baptism, acts of dissent can be seen as sacramental to those who give it reverence and practice it in the Spirit. What baptists forbearers can offer those today who claim the same faith is through the example of their lives we are called to remember that while their intention might be taken as estranging, they are actually calling for a refined form of unity. Smyth’s call for authenticity first started with his own baptism and reminds us to be true to ourselves in order for us to be true to one another. King with his nonviolent work proved that love and compassion, a gospel message, was capable of confronting racism and forcing white America to wake up. By establishing Providence, Williams declared that if one person didn’t have the right to worship freely no one did. Campbell allowed us to see that even those who are our enemies are deserving of God’s love, and while difficult, us too. In this light dissenters are working to expose sin for what it is; not an act but anything that separates neighbor from neighbors and from God. A dissenter’s call then is to share the uncomfortable message of God’s grace, a grace which includes the misfits of our society and our faith.


A Moonshine Faith

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The process of moving is anxiety laden at its core. There is the basic packing that gets done along with the needed purging of what does and doesn’t “spark joy” in one’s life. The house gets disorganized with the clutter of  moving boxes and other supplies with the hope that at some point the tide will change and the space will start looking habitable again. When I was young and single, moving consisted of moving a room...now I have a house, a wife, a kid, 2 cats, and a dog. So yeah, it’s a bit more complicated than it used to be.

One of the stressers of moving if you own a home is getting the property ready to sell. All the projects that Lauren and I wanted to do are finally getting done and we’ll only be around another month to enjoy them. Meh. We had some minor things fixed, like some outdoor electrical outlets and new boards replaced on the back deck. Then the kitchen got a nice new counter top and back splash. Everything went smooth until our “small bathroom project” turned into a complete remodel. Fair warning: when you start ripping up and tearing down stuff like floors and walls be prepared to keep ripping.


During this process we’ve had a slew of people in and out of the house. Our contractor has been here everyday making sure his teams are on top of everything and trying to get us back in our main bathroom as quick as possible. We’ve had some great conversations around all sorts of topics while he’s been around, but one the other day resonated with me on a theological level and I’ve been pondering it over ever since.

We were talking about weight loss or something to that effect and I mentioned my story of shedding those extra pounds last year. I listed a few things I’ve done and joked about switching from beer to whiskey. He mentioned he was more of a tequila drinker, but liked a whiskey as well. I asked if he had tried any whiskey from a local distillery here in Winston Salem, to which he gave this taken back expression accompanied with a slight smile.

“Nah man, I don’t drink that stuff. I got a fella who makes this real deal stuff up in the mountains. Straight moonshine. Hell, why would I drink anything else when I can get that.” Touche’ brother.

This contractor reminded me that morning of what I often consume to be a manufactured product, plastered with a fancy label, and which is often put together by a slick marketing team.

And I’m not talking about Jack Daniel’s whiskey.

I’m talking about a mass marketed form of Christianity.

This idea hit me like a shot of whiskey; with a warm sensation going down into my being and leaving me slightly light headed. It also left me wanting more.

Here’s to finding the real stripped down authentic “stuff” where we can.  

As you were,
~tBSB

Baptist Identity

This piece was prompted by a course at Wake Forest School of Divinity entitled Baptist Identity Past, Present, Future: Is There One? It is my final class with Dr. Bill Leonard. His influence has been substantial in my understanding of my own baptist…

This piece was prompted by a course at Wake Forest School of Divinity entitled Baptist Identity Past, Present, Future: Is There One? It is my final class with Dr. Bill Leonard. His influence has been substantial in my understanding of my own baptist identity.

To try and pinpoint baptist(1) distinctions down is a herculean task. The old saying comes to mind, “if you have 2 baptist in a room you’ll end up with three different opinions.” The freedom I have seen within the baptist faith tradition one such that is not so identifiable as other mainline Protestant denominations. Where Methodist, Presbyterians, and Episcopalians have their hierarchical systems consisting of bishops and so forth, baptists pushed ahead in their congregational understanding of church polity, some even referring to their ecclesiology as “sacramentalism” in nature. In this sense baptist churches, as I see it, must operate under a canopy of freedom in all they do.

I don’t believe you can get far in talking baptist identity without mentioning the Four Fragile Freedoms (there’s that word again). While these notions have been present in some form on another for much longer than I’m about to give them credit for, it was the writings of Walter Shurden where I begin to see these freedoms traced back to baptist roots over the centuries. I don’t want to spend too much time unpacking Bible, Soul, Church, and Religious freedom since much has been said and written concerning them. Since this is a reflection piece, I wish to simply point out and recognize their importance as some of my own understanding of what they represent will be fleshed out in the following writings.

Now to the task; what are five sources of baptist-ness? The first should be obvious as I have already named it. Freedom. Larry Gregg, who I served alongside at FBC-Statesville told me that you spelled baptist by spelling Freedom. James Dunn claimed, “the identifying mark of the breed called Baptist is that dogged determination to be free.”(2) Now freedom can get you in trouble, especially when you exercise that freedom in contrary actions towards others who claim to be cut from the same cloth, but that’s the dangerous beauty of it. Since claiming my own baptist faith I usually have to follow my statement of being baptist by saying, “I’m not that kind of baptist.” Freedom leaves room for interpretation on both an individual and collective scale and because there is freedom, baptist are required to give an explanation of their lens of faith as no two baptist, or baptist churches, will ever give the same exact answer on a proposed stance. This has resulted in baptist producing an eschatological buffet.

A second marker or trait I suggest would be of dissension.  To be baptist means to be on the margins or against the status quo. By this definition, a baptist person of faith would need to be engaged in “anti-establishment” practices goaded on by their social consciousness. This discernment has lent itself to baptist in their belief of separation of church and state matters. There is a tradition of this line of thinking, be it John Smyth, Anne Hutchinson, Roger Williams, Fannie Lou Hamer, Martin Luther King Jr and others who pushed back against ideologies and institutions of power and oppression. In this sense, baptist are on the forefront when it comes to cultural schisms and non-conformity as they display a knack for being all too willing to dispute popular perceptions.

Third, the understanding that everyone is called to participate in the Beloved Community, or the idea of the priesthood of all believers. To borrow from the Carlyle Marney, baptist  really must be “priest to each other.” While a congregation does have the leadership of both clergy and laypersons, baptist operations and responsibilities of community within the local church is to be shared by all.  To me, this is a very orthodox way of leadership as I think of the Ecumenical Patriarch of the Eastern Orthodox Church (another dissenting group) known as the primus inter pares. This same concept is to be in practice within baptist churches where while the preacher/pastor/minister offers leadership he/she/they are in a covenant relationship as an equal participant with the rest of the congregation of God’s kin-dom. From this understanding branches the belief that all persons have direct access to God.

The fourth trait deals with emerging identity. This emergence is fluid in the sense that it has the capability to move both forward in developing and backward in reclaiming baptist praxis. This marker has resulted in baptist identifying as non-creedal people, but instead people of a confessioning faith. If creeds were intended to capture the impression of the Christian faith at one time or another in history, baptists have offered the challenge that a creed cannot be imposed on a different group of Christians during another time in history. Lackadaisical theology is not allowed, meaning baptist must form and fashion what it means to be who they are as a people in the time they are in. “Every generation must refocus, deepen, expand, interpret, and understand any creedal or confessional statement. I do not believe such statements can be finalized for future generations” and “as Baptist we affirm that no theological statement is ever final or complete.”(3)

Lastly, I would add the elements of transformative conversion. From their Protestant dissension, baptist had to produce alternative additions to accompany sacramental acts like communion and baptisms. Thus, conversion became a personal affair that needed to be vocalized experience of profession. Phrases such as a “change of the heart” became common when discussing conversion and responding to God’s call on one’s life. Confirmation was replaced with dramatic conversion stories and resulted in congregations instituting watch-care programs over potential members offering affirming support at best and pious punishment at its worst. While baptist have often been known for their approach to the ordinance of full immersion baptism, baptists are able to practice others forms deemed fit such as affusion or “pouring” and are diverse in their approach to the Lord’s Supper. Transformative conversion deals more with response. James McClendon offers that conversion “must be a travel account, a journey - one with a beginning, continuance, and an end” and that this journey “must have an individual and corporate dimension.”(4)

1)  Thanks to brother James McClendon for suggesting baptist be spelled with a lowercase “b”

2) Deweese, Charles W., and James M. Dunn. Defining Baptist Convictions. Franklin, TN: (Providence House Publishers, 1996), 71

3) Tuck, William Powell. Our Baptist Tradition. Macon, GA: (Smyth & Helwys Pub. 2005), 17 & 19

4) Furr, Gary, Curtis W. Freeman, and James Wm McClendon, Jr. Ties That Bind: Life Together in the Baptist Vision. Macon, GA: (Smith & Helwys Pub. 1994), 26



Big Announcement: We're Heading North

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For an announcement to be considered “big news” I believe it must have properties that generate both anxiety and excitement. The one I have to share this morning seems to fit this definition. Pending graduation in May (Lording willing!), this flock of black sheep will be setting off on an adventure that none of us saw coming.


We’re moving to Vermont.

I have accepted “the call” to become the senior pastor at United Church of Lincoln, an American Baptist Church with United Methodist heritage, in the Green Mountain State.  


I’ve always preferred “call” language or vocation to the term profession, and that is how I’ve been describing the event which led to my family heading to New England. You see when you deal with a “calling” you start dealing with the Divine Presence in such a way where you loosen the grip of your perceived control and start embracing chance and possibilities.


When the first few emails were sent between myself and the search committee at the church I had a conversation with Lauren early one morning over coffee. I had read their church profile and felt a strong connection of who they were and was sharing it with Lauren. During that talk I said such things as, “You know, neither of us have any connections there” and “This is such a long shot, do you think I should even pursue this?” I can remember Lauren’s comments to me that morning, she said something along the lines of “This will be a good experience for you. What’s it going to hurt? Let’s see how far it goes.”


For those listening for God’s call let my story be a fair warning to you. A “call” can go pretty far!


There is so much to this story that I plan to share over the next few months. And while I am excited with what is to be, I am trying to remain present. Assignments and papers are still due. A house is being purged and packed and place on the market within a month to be sold. And the grief I mentioned at the beginning is right there in the midst. I’m leaving my beloved South, my home of North Carolina (where Tarheel games were always on local channels) where my family lives. I grieve for the church families I’ve come to know and care for in Statesville over the past three years. The next several weeks just being with students and enjoying their company is my goal. So, as you see, it’s a mixed bag.

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However I will share one experience that might lend itself to understanding what a call feels like. I arose early one morning while we were there visiting in December, it must have been around 4am. Lauren and Violet were still asleep and I tiptoed through the kitchen of the parsonage to make coffee. From the window I could see huge snowflakes falling, the first since we arrived. I walked through the sitting area and opened the door to the screened in porch located on the front of the house. From where I stood I could see the snowflakes, which seemed to be half the size of my hand falling at a rapid but silent pace. The only sound I could hear was the rushing waters of the New Haven River which is literally across the street. In that moment I felt a calming presence accompanying the cold, snow, and sound of the river. I remember responding out loud to God’s call,


“Oh hell, I guess we’re moving to Vermont.”


Maybe Abraham and Sarah said something similar.


As you were,


~tBSB



Over Processed: The Phenomena of Personal Branding

Movie/Doc Poster for “The American Meme”

Movie/Doc Poster for “The American Meme”

On my 35 minute drives to and from my church I usually listen to a few podcast during the week. I have several that I frequent, but have become quite fond of the dialogue I find on Drunk Ex-Pastors (there’s your shout out Jason and Christian) that consists of social commentary on a range of topics. One of their recent uploads made mention of a Netflix documentary entitled “The American Meme.” Their conversation around the project was enough to make me check it out for myself.


Fair Warning: We’re talking about social media influencers here...that means the videos/images on this doc might be a little sketchy to some. Just throwing that out there…


The doc focuses on several major social media heavy stars including Josh Ostrovsky (the Fat Jew), Brittany Furlan (of Vine fame), and Kirill Bichutsky (Instagram star). I’m choosing not to link to their respective platforms, I’ll leave that to you the reader. Paris Hilton also chimes in as perhaps the forerunner of how becoming a socialite in the modern era can produce fans, followers, and (financial) supporters/consumers of content and projects. Comedian/actor Dane Cook even makes a few appearances which hit me right in the nostalgic feels as he reflects on how MySpace helped launch his career.


There is soooo much to be unpacked from this doc as it offers a true but perhaps unofficial study into what social media has given the world. Phones and live feeds have now replaced the need for celebrity agents and our cultures current state is one where anybody at anytime can become famous (the doc spends time on this as well, remember Chewbacca mom?). However one thing I noticed, which those on the doc speak of often, is the hustle it takes to keep it going. Kirill Bichutsky travels from club to club across the U.S. catching flights and looking exhausted and extremely hungover. Brittany Furlan talks of how after Vine she never really made it back into the social media spotlight and has agonized over what getting “loops, likes, retweets” has done to her. DJ Khaled (Instagrammer/DJ/Music producer) highlights not only his life, but the life of his son, Asahd (who at 2 years old has almost 2 million followers himself on Instagram). Khaled talks about “always hustling” and reciting the mantra “we’re the best” about his family. It was during his comments about his work ethic, and in some of the other subjects filmed, the term “branding” came up and that is where my interest peaked.


I remember the first time I heard the term branding. Rest assured I had already been exposed to what it was, but never heard it verbalized outside the corporate world and conference tables. Instead of a slick wall street type making a pitch for branding the next Mc-whatever at McDonald’s, I heard the term used by a 19 year old college basketball player, Harrison Barnes. In an article for the Atlantic , Barnes tells of his sophomore return to UNC-Chapel Hill was done so to help his “branding.” Over the course of the piece it becomes very clear that Barnes was not looking at basketball as just a game, but understood it to be a business (Barnes even used his college selection as a experiment on social media, Skyping in live with UNC coach Roy Williams to announce his choice).

I can’t help but think of the famous Godfather line, “It’s not personal, it’s just business.” However in the realm of internet celebrities and social media influencers, what happens when the personal becomes your business.


I often ask myself this question when I think about my blacksheepbaptist project. I say “project” because as of today that’s honestly how I see it. I often tell people the blog has become an outlet for me to “brain-dump” my thoughts and ideas concerning certain subjects while doing so with a platform in which I am comfortable working with/on. I post my writings/links to my personal social media accounts and am happy to engage with those who read, interact, and reshare my content. Yet, for me, when it comes to the idea of thinking about what I do as a brand...I feel a little icky inside. Now before you jump on about website hosting, domain name, and logo I admit I do have a line at which I judge myself. I’ve learned enough through my educational studies that all the drafts I write and sermons ideas I have need somewhere to go since they don’t always make their way into essays and pulpits. Blacksheepbaptist.com has become an “think tank” for me to hash out  some things I’m trying to process and I’m performing this act in the most open of all forums; the internet. Maybe what I’m saying is as much as I like interacting with people online this project really is more for me than it is for anyone else. Who knows, maybe DJ Khaled would say the same?


Perhaps the reason my urge to watch this doc was so strong had to do with my presence in a proclamation course I’m currently taking this semester. The course deals with “alternative pulpits” such as blogs, vlogs, and podcasts” and how they are used. Because of this my brain has been swirling around branding.

Should I switch my social media accounts over to professional accounts?

Should I l learn and start my own podcast?

Should I break down and create a Snapchat account?

Would I be better off to just shut down everything and exist off the grid?


While I have many questions I do know one thing for certain; if something is overly branded I intentionally stay away from it. I take the stance of pushing back on what is big and popular and that would include how I view myself. If I have to worry about when and how I post things and how what I say might impact my “brand” than I feel as if I’ve lost something valuable. For now, I’m comfortable being an off-brand in a very branded world.


#Hashtag that.


The Beginning of the End

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Life moves pretty fast. If you don't stop and look around once in a while, you could miss it.

~St. F. Bueller.

A three year stint in the academy is coming to an end for me, meaning, I stand on the verge of a life altering event.

I’ve had many of those type of events in the last few years, none more so then the birth of Violet. Yet this week was a reminder that my time at Wake Forest School of Divinity is drawing to a close. You see, third year students are asked/granted the privilege to preach in Davis Chapel. When I was notified of this opportunity last semester I marked down that I would be more interested  in the Spring and logged the future moment away in the recesses of my brain. A somewhat rattling email at the beginning of January reminded me of my proclamation duties, prompting me to craft a short 10 minute-ish sermon (10 minutes for a Baptist preacher?!?...the pressure was on for sure).

While relying on the lectionary text for that day in Nehemiah Ch. 8, I found myself remembering the words of a recently retired clergy I had the fortune to serve with at FBC-Statesville, Dr. Larry Gregg. When talking with me about my final semester he imparted the wisdom to brace for the inevitable; life after school. He recalled finishing his dissertation for his PhD, defending it, and then in his words “it was over.”

For some, graduation à la cap and gown or hood and stole signifies the completion of this journey, but I didn’t get that message from my conversation with Larry. What I sensed was a need to reflect on the ending of a particular kind of experience where you find yourself not surrounding by institutional learning, pedagogical peers, and letter grades attached for perceived worth of work for the first time in a while.

I understood what he was saying; something that has become such a large, demanding, personal part of your life is coming to an end and you better be ready to deal with that void.

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Because of this, I’m starting to ask myself what this means to me, particularly around the notion of “ending well.” My first and probably only sermon at Wake Divinity as a student was my first chance in fleshing out this crucial practice. While my sermon, I hope, included historical, moral, and spiritual components my desire was to also express appreciation for the opportunity to be in that space at that time with both my family and peers. For me it was a chance to build material for reflection that can only be done by being intentionally present.

It’s the beginning of the end.

Cheers



Book Review: "Leatherbound Terrorism"

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Leatherbound Terrorism by Chris Kratzer is a study of his personal journey from restrictive conservative Evangelical Christianity to a liberating understanding of God’s unconditional Grace.

Kratzer exposes the reader to an adolescence riddled with sickness, tension, and exploitation from those he trusted including his family. He desire to gain approval from his father leads him to create a distorted image of God.

A extended stay in the hospital as a child results in a spiritual experience where Kratzer’s feels a closeness to the Christian messiah Jesus. This encounter will later lead him to feel called into ministry, first in a mainline denomination. Kratzer’s first few years in this setting are described as difficult. After 5 years serving in congregational ministry under intense scrutiny Kratzer admits, “that the allures of conservative Evangelical Christianity were pimped in my direction.” (40) To him, there was a method to conservative evangelicalism which promised success. He read the right books and attended the right conferences, only to come back to the notion that he was essentially living a lie and faking his faith. Kratzer’s observation from other leaders in this camp was the same. “Everyone was faking it just like me - not because we wanted to, but because, truth be told, as I was discovering, that’ the best one can do while on the religious treadmill of conservative Evangelical Christianity.” (49)

This cycle would finally break Kratzer one evening at his bedside. Sitting beside his wife he told her to pack her things and take the kids and leave him. He was suffering emotionally, spiritually, and physically. His conservative Evangelical faith was telling him this was punishment from a god who was constantly disappointed. “I was a disappointment to myself, a perceived burden to others, and a barrier to the life my family deserved.” (55) In this crucial moment Kratzer describes seeing an image of Jesus. This image of Christ embraced him fully not for the works he believed were important and essential, but instead for who he already was; a beautiful creation made in the image of God. In this moment, Kratzer believes he came face to face with the God of grace. “It wasn’t a theology, philosophy, or a new way of thinking; it was a person - Jesus.” (55)

This moment spurs Kratzer to reflect back on the damage his conservative faith caused him, and others he ministered to, while a conservative Evangelical pastor. Now, being equipped with a Gospel of Grace, he moves forward in affirming those on the margins of society while challenging those who wish to perpetuate systems rooted in power and privilege.

I took Leatherbound Terrorism as both a confessional and redeeming work. Kratzer comes unabashedly hard with “bullet point” type paragraphs. His message seems urgent and I sometimes felt as if he was repetitive in some areas. Yet, the takeaway is worth these dragging moments. In the same spirit as Brennan Manning, Kratzer really does believe “all is grace.”

Women's Pants Don't Have Pockets, I Know Because I Wear Them: A Pastor's Confession

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Back in January I began a lifestyle change that has seen me drop some serious weight. While the main objective was to get healthier, a byproduct of dropping 70lbs has been the ability to expand my wardrobe and fit back into pieces of clothing I haven’t seen in some time. During one of the rummages in my closet I found a pair of pants with a brown plaid design that reminded me of something I’d picture Daniel Day Lewis’ character Bill the Butcher wearing in Gangs of New York. While “skinny” jeans/pants might not be for everyone, these fit me perfectly. I slapped on a pair of suspenders and was giving myself a once over in the mirror when my hands slid down to the front pockets.

My hands kept sliding because there were no pockets. These were my wife’s pants.

This wasn’t the first time I’ve wore a pair of my wife pants. She had a pair of black skinny jeans I use to “borrow” along with a burgundy pair, which sadly, I can’t find anymore. While being super comfortable, there was something about them I always thought odd. The pockets. Or perhaps I should say, the lack thereof.

This isn’t new news to most women. For years I’ve heard women make mention of their appreciation for pants, dresses, and skirts where designers gave attention to adequate pocket size and depth. Wearing pants designed for women, I can see their frustration. Modern cell phones stick halfway out back pockets and the minimal front pockets do well to fit a peppermint or tube of chap-stick. Why is this? According to journalist and freelance writer Melanie Radzicki McManus,

Centuries ago, all clothing was created sans pockets. Men and women carried their belongings in small pouches tied around the waist. Then, some 400 years ago, pockets were sewn into men's clothing, but this same feature was omitted from female garments. In the early 1800s, slimmer silhouettes came into style, so women no longer could wear pockets under clothes but had to wear them over clothes — and their pockets got much smaller. Some say it was a way to keep women powerless. If they had no way to secretly carry items around, it would be harder for them to travel independently or conduct clandestine affairs.

While the 20th century saw steps to address this issue, most designers still disregard or choose not to take the issue seriously. In a time where gender equality is often claimed, me wearing my wife’s pants reminds me that it’s not.

There are several ways to approach this issue, and here is the one I’m personally finding most helpful; I want to bring attention to this problem, but also make it a point to not conform to preconceived gender normative concepts concerning clothing.

My wife and I are doing this with our daughter as well, when we go in Carters’, or any other store selling baby clothes, we don’t let the “girl and boy”sections determine what we buy for our daughter.

My daughter wearing a sweatshirt from the “boy’s section.”

My daughter wearing a sweatshirt from the “boy’s section.”

As a faith leader I try and strive for opportunities to expose people to different ideas which often require some decentering/deconstructing of long held beliefs. Issues surrounding gender equality are part of, I believe, the “kingdom of God” work I keep trying to live out.

And I plan to do some of that living wearing my wife’s pocket-less pants.

As you were,

~tBSB

The Virtue of Contrariness

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Have you ever had a conversation like this:


Them: “You know, Michael Jordan was the greatest basketball player of all time.”

You: “Yeah, he really was the greatest.”

Them: “Well, not really. Lebron is better.”

Wait, what just happened?!? How can you disagree with me agreeing with you? I understand for some people that debating is a form of communication and shows their desire to be in conversation with others. However, this back and forth can be tiring if the other party doesn’t share the same understanding. I despise divisiveness for the sake of divisiveness, but I’ve come appreciate and embrace a virtue I believe has fallen to the wayside.

Contrarianism.

I believe it has gotten a bad rap.

In one of my favorite works of agrarian, writer, and social activist Wendell Berry, he says in a piece entitled “The Contrariness of the Mad Farmer”,

“I am done with apologies. If contrariness is my
inheritance and destiny, so be it. If it is my mission
to go in at exits and come out at entrances, so be it.”

(Click HERE to see Berry read the entire work himself)


I’m coming to embrace this same inheritance, particularly when it comes to my vocational “calling.”


You have to wear a jacket on Sunday morning at this church. You’ll never catch me in one.

We’re a casual come as you are body of believers. I’ll show up in a 70s green sports coat.


We spend our time building up believers in our church. Fine, I’ll do ministry outside the walls.

We don’t get caught up in steeple work. That’s fine, but I’m partial to stained glass.


Honor God through your education and studies. I think God might be after my heart.

Be Careful of seminary, it’ll steal your faith! I’ve been exposed to a bigger God while there.


You’re a professional, now act like it. But I thought God “called” me to this service?

You’re “called” and that settles it. But don’t you think I should lean into my vocation?


That’s the way we’ve always done it. I’m telling you we need to do it different.

We need to shake things up! I’m telling you we should be respectful of our traditions.


Our community is entirely inclusive; all means all! Maybe it shouldn’t be.

These are the requirements to be in fellowship here. Maybe you need to expand the table.

“Going against men, I have heard at times a deep harmony
thrumming in the mixture, and when they ask me what
I say I don't know. It is not the only or the easiest
way to come to the truth. It is one way.” (Berry, again)


Maybe what I’m coming to understand is that when someone attempts to place me inside a box restricting my thoughts, feelings, experiences I find myself wanting to push back. And if I’m made within the image of God, just maybe God feels the same way too.


As you were,

~tBSB


Words Of Gratitude to the Baptist Theological Seminary at Richmond

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

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

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

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

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

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

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


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

Millennials want authenticity from church, not red carpets and gimmicks

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And the anecdotal examples are backed up by the numbers.

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

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

‘Gimmick red carpet treatment’

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Cultivating new communities

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

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

But there are other motivations for many congregations.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Another Shooting: Our Inability to Empathize

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Charleston 2015, 9 victims

Sutherland 2017, 26 victims

Pittsburgh 2018, 11

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A Prayer of Pressing: A Savory Contemplative Prayer Practice

Boldly going where I go every morning…

Boldly going where I go every morning…

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

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

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

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

The Act of Pressing:

Pour/grind coffee beans.

Pour water in the kettle.

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

Wait for the water to boil.

Pour water over ground beans and stir.

Wait several minutes before “pressing.”

Pour steaming cup of liquid celebration into cup and enjoy.

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

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

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

Amen.


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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Circuit Riding: My Takeaways From A Summer of Preaching

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

As you were,

~tBSB

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

  Go back to your homes and build community!

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

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

The Christian Heresy of Islamophobia: Guest Writer Kenly Stewart

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“His religion is dangerous and poses a threat.”

“He and his followers are all crazy zealots.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 Thanks for reading,

 Kenly Stewart

Why Young Families Don't Have Churches.

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

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

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

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

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

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