Thomas White, who teaches systematic theology at the Fort Worth school preached about birth control in a seminary chapel service this fall. (Here is a link to the story on our website.)

White told seminary students use of birth-control pills is “wrong,” “not correct according to Scripture” and, in some cases, “murder of a life.” The "murder" happens when the pill prevents a fertilized ovum from implanting in the uterus seven days after the sperm and egg unite. “The seventh day is seven days too long, and it’s murder of a life,” he declared. “When the egg and the sperm meet, you have life."

Life and soul

Granted, many of us believe life begins at conception. But people of  goodwill and faithful intent disagree on when that moment occurs. Is it when the sperm fertilizes the egg? Or is it when the ovum implants into the uterus wall, where it can sustain nourishment and grow?

White said the single fertilized, un-implanted egg has a soul and is a person. He has every right to believe that. Millions do. But to use language like "murder" to describe prevention of implantation oversteps the professor's bounds. (Ironically, as he acknowledges, he didn't become convicted of this belief until after pregnancy no longer was inconvenient in his marriage.)

Abortion is one of the most divisive issues—maybe the most divisive issue—in America. We don't need Baptist seminary professors calling all women who use the pill murderers.

More birth control sinning

But, unfortunately, White didn't stop there. He compared birth control to lack of faith in God, noting: “Folks, you are not in control of your destinies—God is. And the sooner we recognize that we are sinning when we say, ‘I am going to control every aspect of my family’ and we’re not giving control to God, we don’t trust him, we don’t believe that he knows better than we do—we think we know more than God does …."

That's an awfully cock-sure approach to the will of God. Sometimes, God wants us to take responsibility for ourselves and for the outcomes of our actions and possible actions. To follow White's logic, pedestrians should run across expressways and drivers should ignore traffic lights, because if God wants them to get across the road, they will.

Besides theological arrogance and illogic, White reflects poor pastoral leadership, and maybe even misogyny, plus disregard for stewardship of the earth.

A woman's story …

A friend and mother of three sent me a poignant e-mail after she read the story. She wrote, in part, "The simple fact is that if we hadn't used birth control, or if (her husband) had not had a vasectomy, then I have no doubt I would have had children every year from the time we got married until almost the present day, or I would have died because my body just broke down. We were just that fertile."

So, White claims this good and godly faithful Christian woman sinned rather than bear children year after year. His assertion  ignores the real physical burden on women of bearing large numbers of children. It is insensitive to the yearning for intimacy that God built into human sexuality. And by implicitly affirming that U.S. Christian couples produce large families, it affirms crippling dissipation of the earth's resources, since American families already consume a disproportionate share of food, water and energy.

Get a vasectomy

Still, I'm ironically glad White brought this up. It provides me with an opportunity to affirm the best long-term solution to birth control—the vasectomy.

For too long, too many men have placed the burden of contraception on women. The pill often presents detrimental side-effects, which only women bear. When a condom breaks, then the woman has to bear another baby.  And you know what they call couples who practice the rhythm method. Parents.

Husband, if you and your wife have had all the children you intend to have and you're still of child-bearing age, do your part. Get a vasectomy. It's a whole lot easier on your body than the pill is on your wife's. And you're no less a man just because you no longer can get a woman pregnant. In fact, most women probably would say you're more of a man for owning up to your responsiblity.

Don't believe me? Ask your wife.

At least that's what a life-expectancy calculator claims. Thing is, I'm not so sure I want to live that long.

I don't remember where I found it—oops, there goes my memory; maybe I'm farther along than I thought—but I read about a computer program that calculates how long you're supposed to live. It's located at www.livingto100.com, and it takes just a few minutes to complete. So, I tried it. Twice.

First time, I finished the test, and the next screen told me, "Your calculated age is 97." So, either I'm a pretty well-preserved 97-year-old who can't (a) explain why I'm older than my mother and the same age as my grandmother and (b) account for 45 years, or else those folks at livingto100.com need somebody to check their grammar. I think what they meant is that, according to the way I answered all their questions, they believe I can live to 97.

What did I do wrong?

You'd think I'd my first thought would be, "Yippee, I've got 45 more years to live!" But you'd be wrong. I first thought was, "Man, I must've fibbed on a few of those answers." See, I know how people answer surveys. If another person is asking questions, like in a mall or on the phone, they tend to lean toward saying what the pollster wants to hear. And if they take a poll online, they tend to say what they wish were the truth.

So, I went back and re-took the test. The second time, I didn't give myself the benefit of the doubt. Like on how many times a week I really work out. (I changed my answer from "3-4 times a week" to "1-2 times a week." Really, some weeks I work out 4-5 times, and sometimes, it's only once.) Or like how many times I eat any food that is white and, presumably, starchy. (Can't remember the options—that memory thing again—but they really didn't offer one that fits me.)

When I finished the test the second time, the helpful folks at livingto100.com made me register before guessing how loudly my biological clock is ticking. Then they got personal. The next page exclaimed: "Hello MarvKnox Your calculated age is 97. … You could live to 102. Learn how. … Remember, a strong network of friends, family and community is key to longevity. Get started now!"

I hope they know their medical wellness better than they know their punctuation. And I wonder if they really think I've got up to 50 more years in me or if they're trying to butter me up to sell me something. I'm guessing the former, because if they were trying to up-sell me, they'd do better if they scared the bejabbers out of me. According to their "age calculator," I've been doing just dandy without them.

What are the odds?

Who knows if I've really got a chance to live to 97. Grammar, my mother's mother, has made it that far, and according to what I learned in high school biology class, she contributed  25 percent of my genetic structure. Also, long walks with Grammar during childhood instilled a lifelong love of exercise, so I've got that going for me, too.

Besides "clean" genes with no cancer smudges, I'd almost bet the non-smoking thing accounts for the high number the calculator tabulated. During lunch today, I heard a guy on the radio talking about statistics. He said smoking increases your chances of contracting lung cancer by 2,000 percent. 

A balanced outlook on life

Pondering the possibility of living to 97 got me to thinking about several things:

• Take good care of yourself. We know enough about the human body to realize a balanced diet and exercise can not only result in a higher quantity of years, but they also enrich the quality of those years. And although we usually use the term "mental gymnastics" negatively, regular periods of rigorous thinking—like working puzzles or learning something new—also contribute to aging gracefully.

• But don't worship your health. Even if you contribute by exercising and eating right, good health is a gift from God. I've seen folks, even Christians, who get so absorbed in trying to be healthy that they wind up making an idol out of their bodies and worshipping at the altar of wellness. Our bodies should be tools to glorify God, not self.

• If I have to lose something, I hope it's my hearing. Maybe because my sister, Martha, has been deaf all her life, I'm not scared of losing my hearing.  She's led a full and productive life, and I can imagine feeling fulfilled without hearing new things. I'll still hum Lyle Lovett songs if I'm deaf as a post. But I sure wouldn't want to lose my eyesight. Too many books; too little time. Even if I live to be as old as Methusaleh, I'll never read all the books that intrigue me.

• I'm not so sure I want to be 97, much less 102. If I outlive Joanna, my wife, and my  peer friends, then all those years might feel like too much of a good thing. If I lose too much mental or physical ability, I could become a burden to others, not to mention myself. But if I can remain aware, contribute to others and appreciate each day, then maybe living to be super old would be interesting.

• Don't count those years before they're lived. A few minutes ago, I e-mailed a note to an acquaintance and fellow father whose 18-year-old daughter died in a car accident Sunday afternoon. A whopping score on a life-expectancy calculator means nothing. Life could end at any time.

• So, savor the moments. I don't know many people who look back and treasure entire years. People who love life love the moments—mealtimes with family, spectacular sunsets, autumn afternoons, long runs in the morning, rousing worship, card games with friends, good books, great music, the symphony of friends' laughter. No matter how long, a life filled with these will be a blessing.

Yesterday, I received an e-mail from Walker, a steadfast friend for almost 30 years. Nell, his wife of more than six decades, died after a long battle with a rare, decimating disease. Nell's obituary poignantly reminded friends of "her unwavering faith in family and church, her intense sense of right and wrong, loving strength, her gentleness, unexpected wit and strong support for Walker … ."

After work, I stopped by the hospital to see David, who's been a great friend for almost 13 years that Joanna and I have been members of First Baptist Church in Lewisville. I can't remember how many times David has been in the hospital the past couple of years. Every time I've visited him, he's made me laugh and filled me with hope. If humor and faith could whip cancer, David would've been done with hospitals long ago. This time—we pray and believe—should be David's last stay in that hospital as a cancer patient. Yesterday, he talked about how he intends to show his gratitude for God's blessings by coming back to share hope with others.

Last night, I received an e-mail from Jean. Her husband, Eric, is a chaplain bound for Kabul, Afghanistan. I've known Eric's family for more than 30 years, since his oldest brother, Marc, and I became lifelong friends in college. Eric and Jean have a rock-solid marriage built on faith and love. But you can understand why Jean is scared. You would be, too. 

Life is hard. And it just seems to get harder. When Joanna and I were 23, we had a friend named Carolyn who was the same age then that we are now. She wisely warned us life would be hard. Frankly, we didn't believe it. Couldn't comprehend it. But now that we've lived almost three more decades, we know precisely what Carolyn meant.

And that's why I can't live any day without prayer and almost any day without  reading the Bible, seeking a word from God. What I can't understand at age 52 is how anybody makes it through life without a relationship with God through Jesus Christ. At least not without going crazy. 

A few years ago, the late, wonderful spiritual troubadour Rich Mullins touched me with a prayer I have adopted time and again: "Hold me, Jesus. I'm shaking like a leaf. You've been my King of Glory, now be my Prince of Peace."

Lately, I've been reading Daniel Vestal's terrific new book, Being the Presence of Christ: A Vision for Transformation. Vestal is a former pastor in Texas and Georgia, and for a dozen years has been executive coordinator of the Cooperative Baptist Fellowship. This book reflects  themes that have marked his ministry for 40 years.

In the introduction, Vestal contrasts today's world from the context in which the first Christians lived. One sentence particularly jumped out at me: "Roman paganism is not popular, but different kinds of paganism are, such as the unbridled pursuit of sexual gratification and the quest for material possessions."

Never enough

That sentence prompted me to write in the margin of that page, "sex/greed = materialism."

I'm sure I've seen the connection between sex and greed before. How many times, after watching a TV commercial, have I heard myself or friends say, "Sex sells"? Thousands, I'm sure. But in light of Vestal's statement, I couldn't stop thinking about how sex and greed are linked inextricably in today's  society. America just can't  get enough, whether it's sex, money, cars and trucks, food, entertainment, big houses or just about any other "thing."

From the earliest philosophers forward, people have pondered and debated the relationship between spirit and matter. We won't dig into all those discussions here, but type "spirit and matter" into just about any search engine, and see what happens. Some philosophies cast them against each other, while other perspectives blend them together.

A balanced perspective

Christians and Jews hold a balanced approach. Material is not evil in and of itself, because God is the creator of all things.  People were created, in part, to be caretakers and stewards of matter—the world, which God proclaimed to be "good."

But the story of creation reveals humanity sinned when it refused to abide by the limits God place on creation. From the very beginning, enough wasn't enough, or so people thought.

Today, the majority of humanity's problems stem from rampant materialism—from sex-saturated media to oil-soaked international relations. That's not so  much an indictment of any kind of economic theory as it is a judgment against the first and most abiding sin, greed.

Living with "enough"

Can we train ourselves to live with "enough"? (Obviously, since I've mentioned sex already, I need to point out a caveat: Most sexual sins have to do with the type of sexual activity, not simply the amount of activity.) 

What if Christians learned to live within the boundaries of "enough"? 

We would not be crushed by staggering debt.

We would weigh less and be in better health.

We would have time to  focus daily on God, Who created us.

We would have time for family and friends.

We would have the means to live generously.

And those are just starters—"enough" to begin a new quest.

Oh, and how to start: Begin with gratitude.

Have you ever been more sick-to-death of the news? I'm not talking about "the mainstream media." I'm talking about the actual news.

The stock market keeps falling day by day. It's down about 20 percent in the past month and down closer to 40 percent in the last year and a half.

Things aren't much better anywhere in the world. Governments are buying out banks. Folks are wondering if they'll have jobs, if they can keep their homes, how they'll educate their kids, if they'll ever afford to retire. 

Reports from the battlefield campaign

Meanwhile, we're getting up-to-the-minute reports on how many times the presidential and vice presidential candidates misrepresent each other and say all manner of evil about each other. Each team also claims to know the fix for all our social and political and financial ills. But when you listen for specifics, you start to realize your ears will fall off before you get much in the way of firm details.

When you watch the presidential campaign, you begin to wonder if it's not a race between two senators for the presidency, but more like two individual races. It seems the best of each candidate is competing with the worst of himself. The true contest is whether either one will have a soul left by election day.

Two lousy options

Is this what is required to win the White House? Abandon who you are to either (a) morph into something for everybody, a lowest-common-denominator person who appears to be what every individual voter wants, or (b) transform into a verbal assassin who destroys the other candidate's character so that you basically win the election by default?

Well, it's tiring and dispiriting.

My ideal candidate

Platform specifics aside, here's the kind of candidate who would earn my respect. I'd like to see just one politician …

• Absolutely refuse to vilify the opposition. Not only would he (or she) decline to run attack ads, but would condemn attacks made on his (or her) behalf by other groups, including the national political party.

• Address the issues in depth, with specific numbers and other facts verified by a non-partisan—or, better yet, bi-partisan—team of experts. Wouldn't it be great to follow an entire campaign and never see or hear any fact or claim corrected or refuted?

• Admit some things just can't be known, because the flow of history is too murky. I'd find it refreshing to hear a candidate say, "You know, I'm not absolutely sure what the best approach is. At first, I'm going to try this … . But if, after a period of time, it doesn't work, I'll change my mind and try something else."

• Acknowledge the other candidate has some good ideas. They can't both be right, and they're neither always wrong. Why not have the courage to affirm the other guy's position on issues of substantial agreement?

• Tell the American public what we don't want to hear. The most crippling aspect of campaigning and, later, governing is all the promises candidates make, trying to tell us what their pollsters think we want to hear. For example, most Americans hate taxes. But we're not totally stupid, and we know defense, education, transportation, infrastructure and Social Security (to name a few of the big items) cost something. Our mamas taught us, "You get what you pay for." So, why can't a politician tell us the truth about the goals, costs and liabilities of meeting our national priorities?

• Talk honestly about how he (or she) would go about making big decisions. I'm more concerned about the character of the next president than the specific policies he says he'll implement. I want to know how he thinks and what he leans into when he makes hard decisions. Of course, he'll face periods of uncertainty and enormous challenge, but we can face the future together if we believe he has the intellectual and moral capacity to exercise that greatest of all presidential virtues—calm wisdom.

The fall board meeting of Associated Baptist Press—a key component (along with the Baptist Standard, Virginia's Religious Herald and Missouri's Word & Way newspapers) in the New Voice  Media partnership—is being held in Providence, R.I.

When I walk out the front door of our hotel, I can look to my left and see the steeple of First Baptist Church of Providece , the  first Baptist church in America. Really the first. Numero uno. None prior.

First Baptist Church of Providence was founded by Roger Williams in 1638, not long after he founded the Colony of Rhode Island to protect the religious liberty of all its inhabitants. And to establish a bullwark of true freedom of religion in the New World. 

In disputes with the Puritans of the Massachusetts Bay Colony over religious liberty and justice for the Indians, the powers that be banished Williams from Massachusetts in the dead of winter in 1635.  He might not have survived, except the Indians he had defended befriended him and saved his family from calamity.

So, he migrated to the headwaters of Narragansett Bay and settled Providence, in thanks to God and established Rhode Island as a colony of England in 1634. Two years later, his convictions led him to start First Baptist Church. That was only 25 years after John Smyth and Thomas Helwys established the first-ever Baptist church in Amsterdam.

Well, I couldn't visit Providence without running by First Baptist. Literally. Autumn has fallen upon New England, and a full day of meetings left me itching to get outside. So, I pulled out the gear, stretched a bit and took off toward that shining white steeple.

As I ran up College Hill, I saw what I would not have expected—the aged wooden meeting house is covered in scaffolding. From what I understand, First Baptist must repair and paint the building about every 10 years in order to preserve this architectural and historical treasure. So, visitors in the fall of ’08 see more of the painters' exoskeleton than they do the outside of U.S. Baptists' birthplace.

Thanks  be to God, the folks who have inherited the physical foundation of our Baptist legacy in the New World are willing to pay the price to protect it.

As I ran on, past Brown University and myriad political banners and yard signs that mark the 2008 political season, the scaffolding around First Baptist Church became a metaphor. It reminded me that Christians of the Baptist heritage need to take pains to preserve and protect our heritage. From time to time, we must put up the scaffolding of knowledge and understanding, repair the rot of historical revisionism and spread a fresh coat of commitment to first principles.

Those principles have been undermined and threatened on one front by so-called Baptists who claim the name of Baptist but do not share Roger Williams' commitment to religious liberty for all people And they're endangered on another front, especially in years divisible by 4, by politicians who use the language of faith as visceral yard signs, manipulating common meaning of words with wonderful, historic resonance in order to win votes.

The threat looms particularly large in America of 2008, where fear of Islamic terrorists breeds disdain for the "others" in our land. It looms large when selfish concern for personal safety and freedom makes good people think twice about denying freedom to others.

But this is not our legacy. Roger Williams taught us better. Read words from America's first Baptist:

• "It is the will and command of God that (since the coming of his Son the Lord Jesus) a permission of the most paganish, Jewish, Turkish, or antichristian consciences and worships, be granted to all men in all nations and countries; and they are only to be fought against with that sword which is only (in soul matters) able to conquer, to wit, the sword of God's Spirit, the Word of God."

• "God requireth not a uniformity of religion to be enacted and enforced in any civil state; which enforced uniformity (sooner or later) is the greatest occasion of civil war, ravishing of conscience, persecution of Christ Jesus in his servants, and of the hypocrisy and destruction of millions of souls."

• "An enforced uniformity of religion throughout a nation or civil state, confounds the civil and religious, denies the principles of Christianity and civility, and that Jesus Christ is come in the flesh."

• "I acknowledge that to molest any person, Jew or Gentile, for either professing doctrine, or practicing worship merely religious or spiritual, it is to persecute him, and such a person (whatever his doctrine or practice be, true or false) suffereth persecution for conscience."

The BGCT Executive Board has selected Steve Vernon to become the board’s associate executive director, serving alongside new Executive Director Randel Everett. This is a great move.

Vernon has been pastor of First Baptist Church in Levelland for 17½ years. He’s also been president and vice president of the BGCT. He’ll do a terrific job in is new role.

Balanced roles

In nominating Vernon, Everett drew chuckles from the board after noting he sensed divine direction to choose Vernon because the West Texas pastor casually noted he “likes committee work.” Funny line. But it’s also a great insight into the Executive Board’s top two staff leaders.

Everett is an idea guy. He started his new job last spring with a bang by announcing Texas Hope 2010, a monumental plan to share the gospel with every Texan and to make sure no Texan goes hungry by Easter 2010. That’s Everett’s forte—helping Texas Baptists think big and dream God-sized visions for our life and work together.

Everett also is a people person. He’s off to a fast start in his young tenure, traveling the state and meeting Texas Baptists. Speaking in our churches. Drinking coffee with laypeople and ministers alike. Visiting our institutions. Scoping ministry needs and possibilities. This is exactly the kinds of tasks he needs to be doing.

But you can’t provide specific, day-to-day leadership of a large and complex organization and simultaneously travel all over the state. And it’s hard to carve out the time to dream and ruminate on potential and possibilities if you’re bogged down in minutiae of staff moves, budgets and “committee work.”

So, a leader like Everett needs someone to lead out in details, to secure implementation of programs, to sweat the details. Everett wisely knows this, and he made a terrific decision to select Vernon. As he described their working relationship, “I’ll focus on strategy, and Steve will focus on tactics.”

True-blue Texas Baptist

Vernon knows Texas Baptists inside-out. After a year as vice president and a year as president of the convention, he’s seen the BGCT firsthand and up-close. More than perhaps any convention president and/or vice president, he made an effort to attend all kinds of meetings and meet with the vast variety of Texas Baptist constituencies.

He’s been to all these places and knows Texas Baptists and the convention so well for a simple reason: He loves our convention, which means he loves our people—laity, pastors and ministry staff, institutional employees, directors of missions, Executive Board staff. Everybody. He’s intentionally inclusive, warm and loving.

Great for the job

Vernon is thoughtful, creative, energetic, faithful, kind, compassionate and full of integrity. He’s the real deal, and he will raise the bar for strengthening the convention—not only the work of the Executive Board, but also the churches, associations and institutions.

Oh, and another thing. He’s funny. His sense of humor will serve him—and all Texas Baptists who will work alongside him—well in days of transition, challenge and opportunity.

Thank God for Everett’s good decision, and pray for Steve and Donna Vernon as they move from Levelland and their beloved First Baptist Church to Dallas.

My cell phone died. For the second time in a week, actually.

The first time, it didn’t actually die. It went mute. If someone called me and I happened to be looking at the phone at the moment, I could see the screen light up and answer it. But since I don’t go around staring at my phone all the time, it was basically useless.

(But this does make me think of a twist on the old “If a tree falls in the forest …” question. If a phone doesn’t ring, is anybody there? Answer: Sometimes.)

Too acquainted with the cell phone store

So, I went to the phone store, and the tech guy confirmed what I already knew. “Your ringer doesn’t work.” He gave me another phone. No questions asked.

A couple of days later, while trying to update my calendar and address book, the second phone died. Deader than a doornail, as we used to say. Kaput. It wouldn’t ring, call, receive calls, show my calendar. Nothing.

So, I went back to the phone store, and the woman who waited on me, Kelli, said the phone wasn’t indeed dead. More like it was in a coma. She hooked it up to a computer, installed a software upgrade, and gave it back to me. Like new.

Problem is, “new” isn’t so great. Because a new phone doesn’t have all my calendar and address information in it. So, I had to reinstall all that stuff. And somehow, I lost a bunch of e-mail addresses. If I’d been more stressed, I might’ve been on the verge of losing my religion, too. But since Joanna and I just got back from vacation and we’d had a great time of spiritual refreshment, I handled this setback calmly (or at least what I’d call calmly.)

Cell phone as metaphor

But my phone fiascos got me to thinking: Is this a metaphor for my life? Unfortunately, yes.

Now, all metaphors break down if you stretch them far enough, and this one will, too.  But here are a few metaphorical lessons I’ve gleaned from a dead and/or comatose cell phones:

•  We (OK, I) can get way to dependent upon technology. The world existed for a gazillion years without cell phones. Life doesn’t come to an end when one goes belly up.

•  What’s up with all this fixation on calendars and addresses? In order to do my job, I need to keep and maintain a calendar. My life is interdependent with the lives of other folks. I need to keep my commitments to them, just as I need them to keep theirs to me. And showing up for meetings, remembering birthdays, assuming responsibilities is part of the deal. Likewise, so is staying connected. Calling and e-mailing—both for work and friendship—is an important part of my life. So, like it or not, calendars and address books are vital tools for my life.

•  But I need to relax some. Constant contact (what an appropriate name for an e-mail product) is helpful but, really, not necessary. So, my phone goes out and I don’t carry that beloved calendar and all those sweet addresses for a day or two. Life goes on. Maybe I even learn something in the quiet of an enforced mini-sabbatical.

•  And speaking of words that start with “sabb …,” I realized how often I fail to set aside time for quiet, solitude and listening—not to my friends and colleagues, but to God.

A good, old commandment

OK, I hope my cell phone doesn’t slip into a coma this week, or any other week, for that matter. But walking around without it in my pocket, I found myself remembering an important commandment: “Remember the Sabbath, to keep it holy.”

If you’re like me, you do a lousy job with that. Shoot, church often causes us to do a lousy job of that. But God was onto something in giving that commandment. We need to set aside time to focus on our relationship with God. And we—our minds and bodies and spirits—need some down time for rest, renewal and a break from labor.

So, I’m going to try to renew my commitment to keeping the Sabbath. And abstaining from the tyranny of a cell phone with calendar and address book probably will be part of the deal.

Maybe you've heard  Yahweh, the Hebrew name for God, has been banned from use in Roman Catholic worship services.  Cardinal Francis Arinze, the Catholic Church's prefect of the Congregation for Divine Worship and the Discipline of the Sacraments, issued the decree to bishops worldwide this month.

The Jewish faith set the precedent for this decision millennia ago. Out of fear and reverence for God, the Hebrew people refused to speak the name. In English, it's pronounced Yahweh, a phonetic rendering of the English transliteration of the four Hebrew consonants—YHWH—believed to spell God's name. Often, you'll see or hear the German translation, Jehovah. In Scripture, the Hebrews would replace the holy name with Adonai, which we translate in English to Lord. Arinze offers  five acceptable substitutes in European languages—Lord, Signore, Seigneur, Herr and Señor. His letter also mandates that the Tetragrammaton, the scholarly term for the four letters, is to be translated God.

An interesting article  addresses whether Protestants should follow the Catholic lead. It is published in Christianity Today.

PC or reverence?

All of this begs a two-part question: Are the Catholics being politically correct? (Some advocates of the change cite concern for offending Jews as a prominent reason not to speak the name.) Or are they getting at a deeply meaningful—and profoundly theological—issue? (The Catholic News Agency stresses respect for  God as the primary reason for the change in liturgy.)

On one level, quibbling about a name that has been mentioned by non-Jews for centuries seems belated and, consequently, absurd. How do you take back a name that has been spoken—with reverence—in Christian worship for 2,000 years? The rightness of speaking God's name—whether it's YHWH, Yahweh, Jehovah or God—is determined by the heart and intent of the speaker, not the speaker's specific word. Furthermore, granting one degree of separation by substituting a synonym seems to diminish language, since the meaning is the same, whichever word is spoken.

Moving debate

All that aside, I've been moved by the debate, as well as the Catholic Church's intent to restore a sense of reverence to God's name. People speak it in vain a lot these days. And I don't mean  the only term I once thought to be blasphemous, when a curse, "damn," was added to the name. Now, I hear otherwise righteous and thoughtful people use "God" casually. Frankly, that's even more offensive than the "G**d***" usage. At least when people speak the latter, they actually mean something.

And isn't it ironic that a discussion about the reverent use of God's name would come up in an American election year? Maybe the worst offenders are politicians and their surrogates who wave God as a cosmic yard sign, signalling people of similar religious heritage to vote for them. I'd imagine that offends God quite a bit.

More to consider

I'm still pondering the Catholic declaration. I pray all people will be more respectful when they speak of God. But the folks I know who bother to use Yahweh in worship do so with reverence and intent. And, besides, I'm not sure how I could sing "Guide Me, O, Thou Great Herr."

Joanna and I enjoyed a strange vacation this year. 

For starters, we didn't know where we were going until a couple of days before we left. Two weeks ago, Hurricane Ike thrashed Cuba while the rest of the world watched to see where it would go next. Our vacation Plan A was to head for Destin, Fla., on the Gulf Coast. But if Ike swung that far east, Plan B was to turn toward the Colorado mountains. We waited and waited. And then we waited some more.

Finally, Ike set his course, and we felt cleared to head to the coast.

A major reason Destin topped the Rockies was because we hoped to meet our oldest daughter, Lindsay, and her husband, Aaron, there for the weekend. They live in Orlando, within driving distance of our destination. Since we only see them a couple times a year, a long weekend at one of our favorite places seemed like a tremendous plan. Unfortunately, Aaron's grandmother died, and so Lindsay and Aaron flew to the funeral in Texas while we were in Florida.

So, for the first time in—well—forever, Jo and I went on a Florida vacation without either of our children. Molly's back in Waco for her senior year at Baylor University, so we knew she couldn't tag along.

We missed the girls, but not enough to ruin our time at the beach. Especially our first-ever vacation after Labor Day. The beach wasn't crowded. The roads were wide open. And we never waited for a table in a restaurant. All that, and perfect weather. What's not to love?

Our trip turned out to be a spiritual retreat of sorts. Jo and I both read The Shack by William P. Young. Basically, it's an extended metaphor for a spiritually wounded person's encounter with God. Some reviewers have focused on the fine points of theology. We focused on the overall message. And that prompted many long, wonderful talks about God, faith, hope, providence, prayer and the arc of God's action in our own lives. 

Talking with the love of your life about the Love of your lives is a blessing beyond measure. We were refreshed, encouraged and renewed.

We also bobbed in the surf, got plenty of sleep and ate great food. 

But all vacations come to an end, and we drove 736 miles back home in time to do chores around the house, wash clothes and go to church on Sunday.

This morning, the alarm rang at 5:20. Instantly, I rememberd my least-favorite thing about work. Getting out of bed at 5:20.

But a little while later, I walked in the front door of the Baptist Standard building, and I thanked God for work. Sure, I'd like to lollygag on the beach longer and more often. But I'm grateful for the blessing of work—purposeful, meaningful, intriguing work. 

To me, work is a form of worship. God gives us gifts and allows us to exercise them. Whatever we do, if we do it to the glory of God out of grateful hearts, it is worship.

So, it was great to go on vacation. And great to be back.

He just hopes he comes back with plenty of good ideas for FaithWorks.

One of the dispiriting problems of presidential campaigns is what happens to language. Words and terms of honor sometimes get turned upside down, where they hang in infamy when they should wave as banners of glory.

This year, I'm thinking of a two-word phrase that ought to point to pride but has been denigrated.

"Community organizer."

Who's experienced?

You heard it first in recitations of Barack Obama's resume. After working on Wall Street, he moved to Chicago, where he was a community organizer.

You heard it second from Sarah Palin, delivering her address as the vice presidential nominee during the Republican National Convention. Here's what she said: " … a small-town mayor is sort of like a community organizer, except that you have actual responsibilities."

Everyone who's been paying attention knew exactly what she was getting at. Since John McCain announced her as his runningmate, she'd been bombarded with questions about whether she was ready to live "one geriatric heartbeat away from the presidency." Two years ago, she was mayor of a small town; since then, she's been governor of one of the least-populous states.

The Obama-Biden ticket no doubt viewed Palin's nomination as a gift of presidential proportions. Since he announced for his candidacy, Obama's detractors—Democrats and Republicans alike—derided the first-term senator for his lack of political and governmental experience. So, a novice mayor-tuned-governor from a small town in a largely rural state should blunt the barbs.

In the limelight of prime-time TV coverage, Palin sought to retrieve the advantage.  Experience gained from serving as mayor of Wasilla, Alaska, trumps the benefit of serving as a community organizer on the South Side of Chicago, she reasoned. A mayor has "actual responsibilities."

Political football

Hear me now: This blog isn't about politics. Every American must weigh the experience, policies, wisdom and character of the candidates and vote accordingly.  That's your business.

But don't allow the rhetoric of this campaign to denigrate the honor of those who serve as community organizers in inner cities, small towns and rural hamlets across this land of ours. Their noble profession should be treated with honor, not as a political football, tossed about in derision for electoral gain.

Obama's background is law, but most professionals whose title is "community organizer" are social workers. Thousands of them happen to be Baptists and other people of faith who serve the people Jesus called "the least of these" because God has called them to that task.

True Christian servants

My experience with these servants dates back almost 30 years,  when I went to work as a reporter for the Southern Baptist Home Mission Board. My job was to tell stories about how missionaries across America were changing lives and leading people to faith in Christ. So, every month, I studied the statistics.

Soon, I realized the "Christian social ministries" missionaries—social workers, or, in popular parlance, "community organizers"—often led the way in leading people to the Lord. They tangibly demonstrated God's love and Jesus' sacrifice. By meeting needs the people knew they had, they earned the right to meet their spiritual needs and change lives, both immediately and eternally.

Later, I studied at Southern Baptist Theological Seminary. The first semester, I noticed many of the students whom I admired most were enrolled in the Carver School of Social Work. Their passion for people and commitment to Christ stood out.  And because I'd traveled across the nation's mission fields, I easily projected the ministries of these new friends into places of need and hurt, imagining how they would bring Christ to folks whom others in the church often overlooked.

More recently, one of the great joys of my life has been to serve on the board of advocates for Baylor University's School of Social work. Throughout the year, I get to meet and watch some of the most dedicated teachers and selfless students I've ever known. These are people who have set their sights on serving people who can offer them nothing in return. They'll spend their lives "organizing communities," but that just means working for justice, demanding decency and sharing the love of Christ among the poor, the elderly, the very young, the ill and others who cannot serve themselves.

They're my heroes.

So, vote as your conscience dictates. But please don't allow the rhetoric of this season to turn your mind against community organizers—social workers, Christian missionaries to God's often-forgotten children.