The editorial “Accountability requires more than four pastors” generated a lot of conversation last week among Baptist Standard readers. One of them, a Texas Baptist pastor, asked me: “If those four pastors don’t have the authority to restore Johnny Hunt, then who does?”

It was a sincere question asked with deep concern. It is also a significant question because of its practical and ecclesiological—church-related—implications.

We need to give the question and its answer serious thought. If there is any doubt, we only need to look at the renewed discussion just days later around Matt Chandler’s return to preaching on Dec. 4.

Summary on Hunt and Chandler

If you don’t need this summary, feel free to skip to the next section.

A pastor’s wife accused Hunt of sexually assaulting her in 2010 while he was pastor of First Baptist Church in Woodstock, Ga. Guidepost Solutions detailed the accusation against Hunt in a report made public May 22, 2022. Hunt denies the incident was sexual assault but admitted to a “compromising situation” and a “consensual encounter.”

After the report was released, Hunt resigned as senior vice president of evangelism and leadership at the Southern Baptist Convention’s North American Mission Board, where he was serving at the time.

Hunt and his wife then participated in several months of a so-called “intentional and an intense season of transparency, reflection and restoration” overseen by four pastors—Steven Kyle, Mike Whitson, Mark Hoover and Benny Tate—who, according to SBC President Bart Barber, were “assembled with the consent of the abusive pastor.” These four pastors released a video the week of Thanksgiving giving their stamp of approval to Hunt’s return to ministry.

On Aug. 28, Chandler, pastor of The Village Church in Flower Mound, announced to his congregation he was taking a leave of absence, at the elders’ suggestion, after a woman confronted him over his “‘inappropriate messaging’ with [another] woman on Instagram.”

His congregation “cannot be a place that does not hold its pastors and elders accountable,” Chandler said.

Chandler took that leave of absence. A development plan was crafted by The Village Church’s elders that included professional counseling and a neurological exam. After going through the plan, Chandler was deemed ready to return.

At the beginning of the Dec. 4 worship service, Lead Pastor Josh Patterson declared, “The elders affirm Matt’s reinstatement to the pulpit.”

Who has authority to restore?

One must remember, in the Baptist context, the local church has full authority to license and ordain new ministers. The question, however, is if the local church—via its religious leaders—has the authority to restore a fallen minister.

For Baptists, the answer is “yes.” This raises another question, though: Who in the local church? The deacons, the elders, other ministers on staff, the personnel committee, the whole congregation? Baptists will say each church decides for itself who within the congregation will have that authority.

Baptists believe in the autonomy of the local church and have fought bitter fights over this principle. Under autonomy of the local church, each congregation governs itself, including whether and how it will address clergy wrongdoing.

The problem is such autonomy has been a significant contributor to ongoing abuse—such as the SBC’s sexual abuse scandal. Too many problem ministers have not been held accountable and were allowed to move to another ministry because responsibility was pawned off on local autonomy. Local autonomy doesn’t mean there’s no collective responsibility.

Is centralized governance a solution? Not necessarily, as the Roman Catholic Church has made clear. Leaders protected leaders in the Catholic Church just as they did in Baptist churches and ministries.

What’s “local” in an internet age?

Scope is another issue to consider in deciding who has authority to restore a minister. Authority to restore ought to extend as far as the minister’s and ministry’s reach. Hunt and Chandler are high-profile ministers with national, if not international, reach. Their churches called them and kept them for that reason; the churches want a wide reach.

Chandler acknowledged the scope of his reach when he told congregants on Dec. 4, “Chances of your stuff ever being made public and making Salon is probably slim.” Though his congregants might not gain national attention, Chandler will.

A consequence of being high-profile is that when something goes wrong, it’s not just the minister in the national spotlight; the church or ministry is, too. So are the minister’s victims, even if the wider public doesn’t know their names and faces. And so are associated ministries.

In addition to being pastor of The Village Church, Chandler was president of Acts 29 Network. In light of Chandler’s leave of absence from The Village, Acts 29 asked him to step aside from its speaking engagements. Whether Acts 29 was involved in his development plan and reinstatement was not stated in Patterson’s and Chandler’s remarks on Dec. 4.

Ironically, Chandler had a cold Sunday morning. Patterson invited the elders to gather around Chandler on stage to pray over him and told them if they catch the flu, “You’re fine.” Chandler assured them, “It’s just a cold,” to which Patterson responded: “It’s just a cold. It’s always just a cold,” by which I’m sure he meant it’s no less contagious—just like sin.

Taking responsibility

I took my dog for a walk through the park this morning. She chose to relieve herself right in front of the playground. No one needs to step in that. So, as a responsible, city-dwelling dog walker, I picked up her mess with the plastic bag carried for that purpose.

Unlike my dog, misbehaving religious leaders need to take responsibility for their own mess. When they don’t or won’t, the church is obligated to make sure the mess is taken care of. Holding the offending minister responsible and accountable is not an option. No one coming along behind needs to step in the minister’s mess.

Sometimes taking care of the mess means the minister, who can be personally restored, isn’t restored to ministry. It always means the minister taking full responsibility for his or her wrongdoing.

Restoration is more than reinstating a minister. It’s restoring all parties involved in the wrongdoing. Who has the authority to do that? The answer isn’t in a person’s title; it’s in godly character—the kind not always demonstrated by religious leaders.

A final thought

Whatever restoration looks like for a religious leader and whoever signs off on that restoration, at least two things are a bare minimum for a minister restored to ministry.

One, a religious leader’s misdeed(s) must be known beyond a closed circle of other leaders. Not every detail needs to be known to the public, but enough of the bare facts need to be divulged to the full congregation or ministry, and possibly beyond, to ensure full accountability takes place.

Two, upon restoration, the full ministry must know the bare facts about what the religious leader has been restored from. Partnering ministries should also know. And any ministry to which the restored religious leader goes next must know the bare facts of what the religious leader did so it can make an informed decision about calling that minister to serve.

EDITOR’S NOTE: The last sentence of paragraph five was updated Dec. 9 to clarify what Johnny Hunt denies and to what he admits. His open letter containing the quoted phrases can be read here.

Eric Black is the executive director, publisher and editor of the Baptist Standard. He can be reached at eric.black@baptiststandard.com. The views expressed are those solely of the author.

Once again, Southern Baptists are in the news and, once again, for controversial things. Such is the long tail of wrongdoing. The tail of accountability, however, seems to be much shorter.

Defining ‘morally inappropriate’

First, it was former Southern Baptist Theological Seminary missions professor David Sills. He lost his teaching position at Southern Seminary in 2018 after revelations of a “morally inappropriate consensual intimate” relationship—his language—with then-student Jennifer Lyell.

Sills is back in the news, because he is suing Southern Seminary and its president Al Mohler, the Southern Baptist Convention Executive Committee, SBC President Bart Barber and previous SBC president Ed Litton, Lifeway Christian Resources, Guidepost Solutions and Lyell.

He claims this large group of individuals and organizations “conspired with [Lyell] to ruin his reputation.” That’s a wild claim his attorneys will have to prove.

What doesn’t have to be proved is Baptist Press’ role in this “morally inappropriate” situation. Lyell was encouraged by SBC leaders to write a first-person account of what happened with Sills. She called it abuse, but Baptist Press changed her words to “a ‘morally inappropriate relationship,’” thereby implicating Lyell’s moral character.

Baptist Press issued a mea culpa Oct. 15, 2019, and pulled the reworded article from its website. The Executive Committee apologized to Lyell in February 2022. But the damage was already done—to all involved.

Meanwhile, Sills is not denying a “morally inappropriate relationship” happened. He’s just contending—to the tune of possibly millions of dollars and definitely ruined lives—that “morally inappropriate” involves equal consent, not a power differential.

A question arises: How much accountability is required following a “morally inappropriate relationship?” Is losing a job and a reputation enough? Sills’ lawsuit suggests such is too much. Whatever the court decides, the people of God have their own decision to make. I, for one, believe Jennifer Lyell.

Messing up somewhere along the way

Following hot on the news of Sills’ lawsuit is word of former SBC president, megachurch pastor and SBC North American Mission Board vice president Johnny Hunt’s plan to return to ministry.

Hunt was also involved in a “morally inappropriate relationship” and, like Sills, admitted to it. The Guidepost Solutions investigation brought this to light, detailing a survivor’s report of Hunt’s sexual assault of her in 2010.

During “recent months,” a group of four pastors—Steven Kyle, Mike Whitson, Mark Hoover and Benny Tate—“worked with Hunt and his wife on an ‘intentional and an intense season of transparency, reflection and restoration.’” I’m sure this is true, and I’d like to believe the four pastors take “morally inappropriate relationships” seriously. But some things trouble me.

As astute as these—or any—four pastors may be in facilitating an “intentional and an intense season of transparency, reflection and restoration,” I wonder if they are fully equipped to engage Hunt in the sort of accountability required of a spiritual leader accused of sexual abuse.

In their video message, the pastors said Hunt and his wife received private counseling, but of what sort? Was it pastoral counseling, or was it conducted by licensed professionals specializing in sexual abuse? There is a difference.

Hoover said Hunt confessed his wrongdoing in 2010 and underwent a similar process at the time that Hoover called “real … substantial and … biblical.” But was restitution involved? At least one other person was involved beyond Hunt. Has Hunt demonstrated appropriate accountability to that person?

Hoover said, “We have seen nothing but godly repentance in Johnny’s life as he’s been forced to face this in such a public way.” What does “godly repentance” look like, concretely? Religious leaders and churches needing to hold their own accountable would like to know.

I am sad to say, it is also fair to be suspicious of a group of four pastors vouching for one of their own to return to ministry. The last, oh, decades have demonstrated this is not always a foolproof means of accountability. To think their word suffices now is, at a minimum, tone deaf.

Tate confessed his motive for helping Hunt is because he doesn’t know anyone in his life and ministry who’s helped pastors more than Hunt has. Kyle echoed the sentiment. I’m glad Hunt has friends who want to help him, but I wonder if that’s all accountability requires. Can four pastors who admire Hunt so much perform the needed accountability with full rigor and objectivity?

I don’t know Steven Kyle, Mike Whitson, Mark Hoover and Benny Tate. I also don’t intend to question their heart. I do intend to ask if restoration of someone who “messed up somewhere along the way”—to use Whitson’s phrase—needs sanction from at least one other person outside a group of friendly pastors.

Accountability requires naming

At the end of the video featuring the four pastors, Hunt—sitting beside his wife—addressed the camera. He thanked the pastors at length. He expressed some regret, saying, “There are many things I would have done differently.” But what those things are, he didn’t say.

One thing accountability requires is naming the wrong done. Specifically, the wrongdoer must unequivocally state what he or she did wrong. Sills still wants to call his wrongdoing a “morally inappropriate relationship.” In the video, Hunt simply called his “my own moment of public shame and failure.” His shame? Sure, but what of hers?

Vague references are not accountability. Vague references are, in the language of financial accounting, fuzzy math. Too many ministers have been guilty of that, too.

Whether Hunt is called to an SBC church remains to be seen. SBC President Bart Barber reminded Southern Baptists of the resolution they adopted in 2021 permanently disqualifying anyone who has committed sexual abuse from holding the office of pastor. That’s pretty concrete—all except whether Sills and Hunt committed sexual abuse or merely engaged in “morally inappropriate relationships.” I, for one, believe their accusers.

Click here to read a follow up to this editorial.

Eric Black is the executive director, publisher and editor of the Baptist Standard. He can be reached at eric.black@baptiststandard.com. The views expressed are those solely of the author.

Paul instructed the Christians in Thessalonica to “give thanks in all circumstances” (1 Thessalonians 5:18). Did he really mean all?

I think he did, but that’s not really the issue. The issue is there are circumstances that don’t elicit gratitude in us. Well, they don’t in me.

I’m wrestling with this question, because Thanksgiving is only a couple of days away, and I’m supposed to say something about it. But what?

This year’s been tough. My father-in-law endured a year of pancreatic cancer treatment. My wife endured her own cancer treatment at the same time. Both are cancer-free now, for which we are profoundly grateful. But we are not yet in any way grateful they experienced cancer. In all circumstances?

These are just two circumstances from the last couple of years. I’m certain we all have our own lists.

I could do what so many of us do for these anchor holidays; I could write on autopilot about Thanksgiving. But I don’t want to waste your time or mine.

Since I’m wrestling with the question of giving thanks in all circumstances, I don’t have a polished argument or answer for this editorial. Time is ticking, and the calendar is full. I have to put something in writing, and all I’m doing to this point is avoiding the answer.

Are we supposed to give thanks in all circumstances?

What’s in a word?

What does “thanks” even mean? As much as we use the word, surely, we know. But I wonder if it’s become so ubiquitous that we’ve lost the meaning.

Merriam-Webster defines “thanks” as “kindly or grateful thoughts,” “an expression of gratitude.” Nothing particularly profound there. Also, nothing that gets us closer to Paul’s meaning or helps us feel better about its scope.

Since I want to know what Paul meant, I need to look at a different type of dictionary. Specifically, I need to look at a Greek dictionary—since Paul wrote in Greek. When I do, I find something interesting.

ἐν παντὶ εὐχαριστεῖτε τοῦτο γὰρ θέλημα Θεοῦ ἐν Χριστῷ Ἰησοῦ εἰς ὑμᾶς

Yes, it’s Greek to me, too. Thank goodness for Greek scholars and Greek dictionaries.

Here’s the English: “In everything give thanks for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus toward you.”

I’m not a Greek scholar—perhaps stating the obvious—but I’ve seen enough Greek to know the English transliteration of εὐχαριστεῖτε—eucharisteite—could change everything about how we understand “thanks.”

Eucharisteite. Anglican and Episcopal, Presbyterian and Lutheran, Catholic and Orthodox Christians will see Eucharist, what many Christians know as Communion and what Baptists know as the Lord’s Supper.

The Greek word—in its verb form, no less—Paul used for “thanks” is the same word many Christians use to name the Lord’s Supper. How does that fact alone change our view of that ubiquitous word “thanks?” This is well worth pondering.

But there’s more.

The depth of thanks

Beyond the connection between the Eucharist and giving thanks, there are the parts of the word itself—εὐ and χαρισ, or eu and charis. Here again, I’m thankful for Greek dictionaries and enough theological education to know what charis is.

Eu means “good.” Charis means “grace,” “the unmerited favor of God.”

I hope that stopped you like it stopped me.

Just as God’s grace toward us in Jesus Christ is at the core of the Eucharist, grace is the core of the Greek word we translate into English as “thanks.”

In other words, Paul the Apostle of grace is telling us—and, yes, I do think his instruction is as much for us as it was for the Christians in Thessalonica—God has poured and is pouring out so much grace on us that we have more than enough to give a little back to God. What’s more, God has given us so much grace that we have enough to give some back in all circumstances.

Darn it, Paul. I hear you.

Coming to terms

Are we really supposed to give thanks in all circumstances?

I understand the meaning of Paul’s words taken individually, but the circumstances of life are such that I want to argue with Paul about the circumstances.

Paul, do you mean we are to give thanks to God for all circumstances or in all circumstances? That’s one question.

Paul, do we have to feel thankful to give thanks? That’s another question.

And “give” is a verb, which means I’m supposed to do something to demonstrate my thanks. But what?

In Leviticus 7, the thank offering involved a gift of food given to God and God’s priest. This offering was to be completely consumed the day it was given.

Though Paul was intimately familiar with the Levitical law, I don’t think he intended for us to give a food offering in all circumstances. I think Paul’s instructions to the Christians in Rome shed some needed light here.

On the heels of Paul proclaiming “all Israel will be saved” as an act of God’s mercy, he breaks into doxology, which concludes with:

“‘Who has ever given to God,
that God should repay them?’
For from him and through him and for him are all things.
To him be the glory forever! Amen” (Romans 11:35-36).

Then Paul writes, “Therefore, in view of God’s mercy, I urge you to offer your bodies as a living sacrifice, holy and pleasing to God—this is your true and proper worship” (Romans 12:1).

This living sacrifice is acted out in humble service and love, as Paul explains immediately after.

Actions versus words

In whatever circumstance we find ourselves on Thanksgiving Day this year, we likely will think or say a word of thanks. But I wonder how many of us will feel—much less be—thankful. Some of us won’t feel an ounce of gratitude—either because we’re overwhelmed with hurt or numbed by apathy. That’s a tough place to be, I know, and I bet you do, too.

I want to get past that tough place.

As I try to get to the end of this editorial—which is more Bible study than op-ed—I can’t get away from, I’m captured by eucharisteite—the action of God’s good grace, because I know that in all circumstances, God’s good grace is God’s good gift to me and to you.

And I also know when I’m overwhelmed with God’s good grace, giving thanks comes naturally—even in some of the worst circumstances.

Eric Black is the executive director, publisher and editor of the Baptist Standard. He can be reached at eric.black@baptiststandard.com. The views expressed are those solely of the author.

“Everything is bigger and better in Texas.”

The obvious message is Texas is just plain better, in large part because of size. But bigger and better than what? Well, everything, of course.

Texas is a big state, but Alaska is bigger by almost 400,000 square miles. A lot of people live here, but more still live in California—about 10 million more. Texas has an enormous economy, but it’s still smaller than California’s, despite significant and continuing gains. As for temples of consumerism—shopping malls—Texas doesn’t have even one of the Top 5 largest malls.

A lot of things are big in Texas, but not everything is bigger.

Bigger we can measure. Better? Well, that’s just plain subjective.

During the day, Texas has a lot of blue sky and also a lot of brown. The stars at night used to be a lot brighter. You can camp in Texas, but you can’t snow ski. Football is king, but the Dallas Cowboys … You get the point.

Despite all that’s good about Texas, not everything is better. But some of it can be.

Positive steps forward

The 2022 Baptist General Convention of Texas annual meeting was peaceful. That sounds boring, but a so-called boring meeting isn’t bad. Boring can be bad, though, when it obscures cause for celebration.

One thing worth celebrating is the work of The Pastor’s Common. Over the last couple of years, this group of young adults has coalesced and grown.

They and other young adult leaders gained statewide attention last year in Galveston with a motion—adopted by messengers to the 2021 BGCT annual meeting—to “appoint a task force to study and recommend ways to increase involvement of Millennial and Gen Z Baptists in the life of the convention and its cooperating churches.”

The task force reported its findings to the 2022 gathering and brought a new motion—also adopted by messengers—to “appoint a task force to explore the creation of a residency program whereby young ministers are mentored and trained by established ministers.”

The Pastor’s Common invited me to their Monday evening event, and what I witnessed definitely is worth celebrating. I saw a room of great diversity among about 100 Millennial and Gen Z men and women fervently worshipping God.

They discussed their concerns about rampant biblical illiteracy, poor pastoral health, the lack of pastors, declining church attendance and the destabilizing of denominational structures. They want to reverse all of these.

They reject consumer Christianity, Christian nationalism and homogeneity. They are seeking effective discipleship models and better uses of technology. They embrace women in ministry and creativity.

They desire to be mentored and welcomed into convention leadership. We should meet them with both.

Room for improvement

Not to be overlooked in the quiet of a peaceful convention are two significant resolutions adopted without discussion.

Resolution II calls out our culture’s focus “on divisive, condemning rhetoric at the expense of the grace, truth, and love that characterize the gospel.” In response, the resolution calls on Texas Baptists to “seek to follow the way of Jesus in how we engage our culture” and “to avoid cruel jokes, mockery, and belittling language as we articulate our biblical convictions.”

I celebrate this resolution and the fact it was brought by members of the Millennial and Gen Z Task Force. It is countercultural; it is good trouble. It demonstrates young adults’ commitment to being like Jesus in this world. If we will embody this resolution, Texas—and far beyond—will be better.

Resolution III is also more important than suggested by its muted reception during the annual meeting. Messengers resolved to “not support any attempt by government to commandeer the church for political ends or any attempt by government to favor one religion over another.”

Texas Baptists resolved to “affirm the historic tenets of religious liberty” and not to “seek to use government to coerce the worship of Christ.”

I celebrate this resolution, too. But one of my brothers in Christ is disappointed with it. He told me later he is disappointed Texas Baptists did not take a firmer stand by naming Christian nationalism in the resolution.

He said Karl Barth and his colleagues did not shy away from naming evil in the Declaration of Barmen. They condemned the Nazis and the Nazi perversion of Christianity by name.

More than the resolution, I celebrate my brother in Christ and join him in urging Texas Baptists to call out Christian nationalism for what it is—a syncretistic heresy, an unfaithful parody of the way of Christ.

Getting better

In his convention address, outgoing BGCT President Jason Burden extolled Texas: “Everything is bigger and better in the state of Texas.”

Though I’ve challenged his high praise of Texas, Burden and I are aligned on his conclusion: “A Texas without Jesus is not a Texas worth bragging about.”

Texas is a big state. Its problems can be big, too, but not bigger than the power of Jesus Christ lived out through those who follow him.

As much as there is to love about Texas and Texas Baptists, there is room for improvement. Not everything is better in Texas, but more can be. If we will live as Jesus taught and commanded us to live, more will be.

Eric Black is the executive director, publisher and editor of the Baptist Standard. He can be reached at eric.black@baptiststandard.com. The views expressed are those solely of the author.

I shared dinner last night with a group of students from India. The organizer of the group told the story of Jesus telling his disciples, “Whoever wants to become great among you must be your servant” (Matthew 20:26).

Then he asked us, “What does it mean to be great?”

Jesus’ definition of greatness

In the story as told by Matthew, James’ and John’s mom brought them to Jesus to ask a favor on their behalf. It’s interesting that the mother of two grown men is the one seeking a favor for them. It’s also interesting it’s their mother and not their father. There’s clearly more to the story, but that’s for another time.

“Grant that one of these two sons of mine may sit at your right and the other at your left in your kingdom,” she said (Matthew 20:21).

She asked the wrong person. Jesus told her those spots weren’t his to give. His other disciples caught wind of the conversation and took offense. Jesus told them to gather around.

“You know that the rulers of the Gentiles lord it over them, and their high officials exercise authority over them. Not so with you,” he said. “Instead, whoever wants to become great among you must be your servant, and whoever wants to be first must be your slave—just as the Son of Man did not come to be served, but to serve, and to give his life as a ransom for many” (Matthew 20:25-28).

Another interesting point about this exchange: Jesus had just tried to teach this same group of people the same thing.

Matthew 18:1-4 reads: “At that time the disciples came to Jesus and asked, ‘Who, then, is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven?’

“He called a little child to him and placed the child among them. And he said: ‘Truly I tell you, unless you change and become like little children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven. Therefore, whoever takes the lowly position of this child is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven.’”

Visions of greatness

Several of the students last night answered the question, “What does it mean to be great?” with, “Being the best at what you do.”

On hearing their answer, I thought, “G.O.A.T.—greatest of all time.” And to be the G.O.A.T., a person has to win … a lot. Winning a lot did come up in the discussion.

I don’t know what accoutrements the students around the table attach to greatness. I do know greatness in American culture tends to be associated with celebrity, affluent ZIP codes, luxury cars, political victories, dominance and the like. These students—as with most college students—hope to achieve this kind of greatness; they’ve said so.

Other students last night said being great means serving and doing good for others. One student referred to Akbar the Great, emperor of India during the last half of the 16th century. Akbar’s acclaimed greatness straddled the line between political dominance and seeking the welfare of his people.

Another student said being great means always being present for people, not just one hour a week, but always there, even when it’s inconvenient.

His definition was rich, and I asked him, “Who has been that in your life?”

A bit surprised, he responded, “My parents.”

What greatness are we after? Are we after the kind rewarded with material benefits? Are we trying to get ourselves, our families, our churches, our businesses, our communities in the most prestigious position possible? How are we displaying that so-called greatness? I bet it looks like the world.

Church greatness

The American church is often guilty of bending toward greatness defined by the world. To the extent we seek that greatness, we are of the world as much as we are in it.

This worldly form of greatness is typified by the drive to impress. One of the clearest ways our churches seek to impress is through numbers. We reduce our spiritual work to numbers we can report. The higher the numbers, the better.

Baptists recognize and award churches based on the number of people baptized and the amount of money given in a year. We give special recognition to the churches who give the most money. Interestingly, we know who gives the most money more readily than we know who baptizes the most converts.

Recognized churches often are great churches, but not because of the money they give. They have great ministries that serve in the ways and for the reasons Jesus told us to serve.

Equally great are all the churches doing the same without any of the recognition. Perhaps greater, though, are those who make nothing of being overlooked. They are the models we should emulate—so long as we don’t run them up the flagpole for being such great examples.

Christian greatness

Being great as Jesus defined it is like being humble. It’s not something we are to think about or go looking for; it’s something we are to do. And it won’t be comfortable or glorious.

James’ and John’s mom thought her boys had earned positions of greatness next to Jesus. Jesus tried to put that idea to rest. He said true greatness is the opposite of what all of them thought. It’s to be considered like nothing—expendable—to this world.

Yet, here we are trying our darndest to make ourselves indispensable to this world. We think we’ve earned it and deserve it. To win it back, we cheer those who flaunt Christ’s commands while using his name. Clamoring for our former prominence and glory, we sometimes even sacrifice our principles to regain it.

We—Jesus’ people—all too often elbow our way to the top when Jesus is calling us to a race to the bottom. But it’s a different kind of bottom than we associate with the phrase. The low place Jesus calls us to is the place where our dignity and greatness are found.

Can we turn from the world’s acclaim to go there?

Eric Black is the executive director, publisher and editor of the Baptist Standard. He can be reached at eric.black@baptiststandard.com. The views expressed are those solely of the author.

I do not advocate attacking politicians anywhere, including at or in their homes. I condemn it. I do not advocate attacking their family members. I condemn it. I do not advocate making light of such attacks. I condemn it.

The unpleasant truth is these kinds of attacks start much closer to home—our home. They begin with contempt toward us that often grows into contempt toward others. We need to deal with that contempt in our home before it enters someone else’s home.

As followers of Christ, we need to get to the root of contempt. The root can be found in our hearts and minds. Yes, even ours. It must find no home there. Jesus said as much.

Contempt broke in

I’ve spent plenty of time around conservative Christians. I’ve heard some of their opinions of House Speaker Nancy Pelosi (D-Calif.). They’re the kind of opinions that fertilize contempt of political opponents and others.

This goes the other way, too. I’ve heard progressive Christians voice their opinions of conservative and far-right politicians. Such contempt has fueled attacks against Republican officials, as well. It was just five years ago that GOP Whip Steve Scalise (R-La.) was nearly killed by a politically motivated shooter while practicing with colleagues for the annual congressional baseball game.

Early on the morning of Oct. 28, David DePape broke into the San Francisco home of Speaker Pelosi. That act alone demonstrates a level of contempt DePape has for others.

Speaker Pelosi was in Washington, D.C., but her husband Paul was at home. DePape was looking for Speaker Pelosi, with plans to kidnap her and break her knees. Paul called 911, and when police arrived, they witnessed DePape hit Paul with a hammer, hospitalizing him.

Some have made jokes about the incident or promoted conspiracy theories about it. The jokes have been condemned, and the conspiracy theories have been debunked. One thing is unassailable: Threats against politicians and other public officials—Democrat and Republican—are on the rise. This is directly attributable to growing contempt in our politics.

Sourcing contempt

If we compare contempt to medicine, we take it in two forms. One is the straight aspirin of anger and rage prevalent in our culture. The other is the sweet-coated Advil of jokes at another’s expense. We take both with the water of casual comments.

This medicine affects our hearts and minds, along with the life flowing between and out of them. And it’s readily available, no prescription required.

Contempt for other people is sin. The Oxford English Dictionary definition makes that plain: “the feeling that a person or a thing is beneath consideration, worthless, or deserving scorn.” This feeling about others contradicts the image of God in the other person and defies the command to love others. And I’ve heard it come out of Christians’ mouths.

We don’t come out of the womb feeling contempt for other people; we are taught it. The lessons often start early and at home.

DePape’s attack on Paul Pelosi started long before he smashed through the window of the Pelosi’s San Francisco home. If it didn’t start with his parents or guardians, then it may have started with his earliest friends. If not them, it almost certainly started with DePape’s earliest exposure to the internet and social media.

Was there even a single follower of Jesus in that mix who discouraged contempt from growing in DePape’s heart and mind?

Defeating contempt

The antipode to contempt is encapsulated in the Sermon on the Mount.

“You have heard that it was said to the people long ago, ‘You shall not murder, and anyone who murders will be subject to judgment.’ But I tell you that anyone who is angry with a brother or sister will be subject to judgment,” Jesus said (Matthew 5:21-22a).

Anger is akin to murder, Jesus warned. It often makes its first appearance as contemptuous words.

“Again, anyone who says to a brother or sister, ‘Raca,’ is answerable to the court. And anyone who says, ‘You fool!’—[or, ‘You idiot!’]—will be in danger of the fire of hell” (Matthew 5:22b).

How many have we deemed “idiots” recently—politicians, fellow drivers or otherwise? Such a proclamation constitutes an attack.

You may not be the kind of person who will attack with a hammer or gun, but you may be the kind of person who will attack with words. And someone may be listening—a child or grandchild, perhaps.

Words have more power than a hammer or gun. Their effect reaches farther in space and time. They may and often do encourage those who will attack with hammer or gun.

Just sentences later in the Sermon on the Mount, Jesus said: “You have heard that it was said, ‘Love your neighbor and hate your enemy.’ But I tell you, love your enemies” (Matthew 5:43-44a).

Such love is not characterized by contempt. Such love knows how to disagree and oppose without dehumanizing. This love is what we must allow to grow in us and encourage to grow in others.

DePape has particular responsibility for his attack on Paul Pelosi. The rest of us don’t get to sit back, though. We also carry our own measure of responsibility for the contempt we allow or cause to grow among us.

We may not be able to turn back all political attacks and other contempt-fueled violence. But one thing we can do is not feed it with fertilizer from our own hearts, minds and mouths. Jesus commanded as much.

Eric Black is the executive director, publisher and editor of the Baptist Standard. He can be reached at eric.black@baptiststandard.com. The views expressed are those solely of the author.

Baptists believe in the authority of Scripture. We profess to base our beliefs—including our view of Scripture’s authority—on the Bible. So, it stands to reason we would take issue with the Bible’s misuse.

A particular misuse of Scripture is on display in the ongoing cultural and political conflict in the United States. This misuse involves the weaponizing of Scripture. California provides a recent and prime example.

Newsom and the Bible

On Sept. 15, California Gov. Gavin Newsom tweeted the launch of a billboard campaign in “7 of the most restrictive anti-abortion states.” The billboards advertised California as a defender of women’s “right to make decisions about your own health,” specifically abortion.

In separate tweets, Newsom tagged the governor of each of the seven states and showed them which image would appear in their respective state.

The billboard to be displayed in Oklahoma and Mississippi (shown below) included Mark 12:31 in fine print across the bottom: “Love your neighbor as yourself. There is no greater commandment than these.”

The irony of Newsom—a progressive lightning rod—leaning on Christian Scripture to promote abortion rights has been noted elsewhere. A second irony, that of Newsom loving his neighbors by throwing Scripture in their faces, negates the message of the Scripture used. Of course, he might not claim to love all his neighbors, which is a different distortion of Jesus’ meaning.

Weaponizing Jesus’ words—what we count as Scripture—twists them into a parody of themselves. If we condemn this kind of misuse of Scripture—and we should—then we must make sure we are not guilty of the same.

Antisemites and the Bible

On Oct. 22, members of Goyim Defense League, a white supremacist and antisemitic group, demonstrated on a Los Angeles-area overpass. They displayed at least two troubling banners.

One banner read, “Kanye is right about the Jews,” referring to Ye’s (formerly Kanye West) antisemitic Twitter and Instagram tirade earlier in October. Another banner included “Rev. 3:9, John 8:44.”

Revelation 3:9 is part of Jesus’ words to the church in ancient Philadelphia. It reads: “I will make those who are of the synagogue of Satan, who claim to be Jews though they are not, but are liars—I will make them come and fall down at your feet and acknowledge that I have loved you.”

John 8:44 is within a set of disputes Jesus had with those following and listening to him. It reads: “You belong to your father, the devil, and you want to carry out your father’s desires. He was a murderer from the beginning, not holding to the truth, for there is no truth in him. When he lies, he speaks his native language, for he is a liar and the father of lies.”

The demonstrators misused Scripture by taking it out of context to justify their antisemitism. In so doing, they used Jesus’ words to bless hate and even violence toward a specific group of people—Jews.

As with Newsom’s misuse of Scripture, if we condemn the twisting of Jesus’ words—and we should—we must make sure we are not guilty of the same.

But isn’t the Bible a sword?

Whereas Newsom weaponized Jesus’ words about love for others to score political points in a debased tit-for-tat, antisemites weaponized Jesus’ words to advance self-love and their particular cultural agenda.

In both instances, the Bible is used as a weapon, though it is not. There is, however, at least one objection to my contention that the Bible is not a weapon.

One might object that Scripture refers to itself as a weapon—a sword.

Paul, in his letter to the Ephesian Christians, instructs them to “take the helmet of salvation and the sword of the Spirit, which is the word of God” (Ephesians 6:17).

The word of God is described like a sword also in Hebrews: “For the word of God is alive and active. Sharper than any double-edged sword, it penetrates even to dividing soul and spirit, joints and marrow; it judges the thoughts and attitudes of the heart” (4:12).

In both places, what we understand as the Bible or Scripture is referred to as “the word of God.” Also in both places, the wider context must be included. In the wider context of both verses, the writer is referring to spiritual battles and the word of God doing spiritual work.

Based on just these two verses, I might modify my statement as follows: The Bible is a spiritual weapon, not a political or cultural weapon. But that modification is problematic.

How the Bible is used as a weapon

While I contend neither Newsom nor the antisemitic demonstrators were using Scripture in the way described in Ephesians and Hebrews, some would argue both were using Scripture in a spiritual contest.

Abortion opponents see abortion as a spiritual issue impinging on eternity. Christian abortion opponents base their opposition on biblical descriptions of humans being created in God’s image and known by God in the womb, as well as biblical prohibitions against murder.

For some Christian abortion opponents, the Bible is a weapon against abortion. When the Bible is viewed as a weapon, however, the wielder becomes the authority, and the battle becomes a contest of lobbing Bible verses at the opposing side. This is a debasing and misuse of Scripture.

Antisemites believe there is something fundamentally, even spiritually, wrong with Jews. In instances where Christianity is blended with antisemitism, the Bible is used to justify any assault against Jews—verbal, physical or otherwise.

Antisemites do not use Christian Scripture as a grenade to lob in a tit-for-tat spat. They deploy it as a tactical weapon to ensure the success of their long-term strategy to rid the world of Jews. This, too, is a debasing and misuse of Scripture.

The Bible is not a weapon

The Bible is not a weapon, at least not in our hands. It cannot be a weapon in our hands, because its authority is over us, not us over it. Weaponizing Scripture is to make ourselves its author and subject, and that’s a deeper problem still.

Eric Black is the executive director, publisher and editor of the Baptist Standard. He can be reached at eric.black@baptiststandard.com. The views expressed are those solely of the author.

Religious freedom is a regular feature of our news. If a story has to do with freedom of religion or religious liberty, we very likely will publish it.

Religious freedom is at the core of what it means to be Baptist. We’ve championed religious freedom as long as we’ve been around—more than 400 years. Baptists, if they remember their history, know what it’s like not to have religious freedom. So, we champion it.

As important as religious freedom is to us, we too often neglect its downside. We can avoid that problem by remembering our past.

Religious freedom past

Down a somewhat hidden alley in Tewkesbury, U.K., one can find the Old Baptist Chapel. Baptists worshipped in secret there from about 1623 to 1689. To protect their identities, their names were listed in code in the minutes.

Likewise, their baptistery was hidden in the floor. After growing up in the United States and serving in a Baptist church in Virginia, it was an interesting experience entering this hidden chapel and stepping into its hidden and nearly 400-year-old baptistery.

Meanwhile, the large and stately Tewkesbury Abbey of the official state church stands directly across the street, inspiring awe in a different way.

Speaking of Virginia, Baptist historian Bruce Gourley has outlined instances of religious persecution against Baptists there during the American colonial period. Baptists in Virginia were beaten, whipped, manhandled and jailed for their religious practices. Some were imprisoned “until at least 1778.”

As a result of persecution in England and the American colonies, people like Roger Williams and John Leland worked to advance religious freedom in their respective spheres of influence in the colonies. Williams founded Rhode Island on the principle of religious liberty. Leland was instrumental in James Madison’s inclusion of religious liberty in the First Amendment to the U.S. Constitution.

Today, a number of Baptist organizations are working actively to maintain and advance religious freedom. These include 21Wilberforce, Baptist World Alliance, Baptist Joint Committee for Religious Liberty and the Ethics and Religious Liberty Commission.

We do well to know about these organizations and the work they are doing on our behalf. Even if we don’t agree with all of their positions on specific issues, each one is working to ensure we have the freedom to worship in accordance with our beliefs and conscience—and not just us, but all people.

Religious freedom present

This freedom we enjoy in the United States is not a given; it requires constant vigilance. It also is the envy of many of our brothers and sisters in Christ around the world. Consider some of our most recent news stories.

While speaking to a gathering of 21Wilberforce on Oct. 16, Bob Fu, a former Chinese dissident, said he believes Chinese President Xi Jinping intends to increase control over all aspects of life in China, one of which is religious belief and practice.

Iran, a known persecutor of Christians, has drawn attention recently for its response to protests of the Iranian state’s position on women’s clothing. In this instance, the religious persecution involves differing strains of Islam.

Northern and Central Nigeria continue to be hotbeds of religious persecution. “Dozens of Christians were murdered” in numerous attacks in September. In addition to these attacks, churches have been destroyed and children kidnapped during the last several years.

A Ukrainian Baptist pastor and his wife were kidnapped Sept. 21, allegedly by Russian military. Their whereabouts still are unknown. Russian forces have closed churches in Russian-occupied areas of Ukraine, taken down crosses, confiscated religious materials and otherwise made free worship impossible except for Russian Orthodox churches.

These violations of religious freedom, among many others throughout the world, are why Baptist organizations work constantly—along with government agencies like the U.S. Commission on International Religious Freedom—to ensure freedom of religion.

I celebrate this work and hope for its success. But there is a downside to religious freedom, and it’s one we must guard against.

Religious freedom peril

To see the problem of religious freedom, we can go back to something Bob Fu said to the 21Wilberforce gathering on Oct. 16.

“He recalled the religious revival that followed persecution during Mao’s Cultural Revolution, and he predicted a ‘much bigger revival’ could result from the suffering of Chinese Christians today,” Ken Camp reported.

Those places without religious freedom that are hotbeds of religious persecution today happen to be many of the same places where people are turning to Christ in large numbers. The body of Christ, even when underground, is growing and vibrant in those places.

Meanwhile, the church is languishing in those places where religious freedom is enshrined in law, where worship is open and free.

Could it be we have enjoyed religious freedom so long and to such an extent in the United States and the rest of the Western world that we have grown complacent about faith? Have we lost our zeal for living lives that draw people to Christ because we can practice any ol’ religion, any ol’ time, any ol’ where?

I’m certainly not advocating for the end of religious freedom. I’m also not advocating for Christianity being made the official religion of any nation or state. History has shown Christianity is corrupted every time it is the state religion.

I am suggesting, however, that we return to a fresh relationship with and understanding of religious freedom, one that believes with great freedom comes great responsibility. If we don’t, we are subject to become as apathetic about religious freedom as we’ve become about religion. And then, we’ll get to learn the value of both all over again—but the hard way the next time.

Eric Black is the executive director, publisher and editor of the Baptist Standard. He can be reached at eric.black@baptiststandard.com. The views expressed are those solely of the author.

“Millennials aren’t excited about future plans.”

That statement is startling. It’s also a paraphrase of a lengthier conversation. And it doesn’t necessarily represent every Millennial.

The Millennial it does represent bases her statement on the experience of one significant crisis or catastrophe after another in her lifetime. She started with 9/11, because very few of her generation remember the anticlimactic scare of Y2K.

She then listed things like the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan, the latter stretching an entire generation (2001–2021); Hurricane Katrina (2005); the Great Recession (2008–2009); a string of Black men, women and children killed by police or who died in police custody over a number of years; racially charged protests and counterprotests; a rise in mass shootings, especially in schools and churches; the COVID-19 pandemic; the events of Jan. 6 in Washington, D.C.; the war in Ukraine; and high inflation and housing prices right as so many Millennials enter adulthood.

In that sobering moment, my excitement about future plans deflated, too. I mean, a list like that really takes the wind out of the sails.

And yet …

She and I were talking in the context of a conference on addressing these kinds of depressing realities about our world. We were there as ministers and people who believe in and proclaim the good news of Jesus Christ.

Is that good news just a silver lining?

Hopelessness in the world

While taking my son to school this morning, I noticed a bumper sticker on the car in front of us: “Giant Meteor 2020: Just End It Already.” How’s that for despair?

Giant Meteor made its first appearance in the 2016 U.S. presidential campaign, then again in 2020. It’s being offered as a third option in 2022 and 2024. Like it or not, this is where many voters are and have been for at least six years.

What does it say about us that a business can be made off the idea worldwide destruction is preferable to the presidential candidates on offer? While Giant Meteor may be no more than gallows humor, it expresses a degree of despair about our future on Earth.

Do those who believe in and proclaim the good news of Jesus Christ have any better hope to offer?

One of the assumptions of this question is we have hope for this world now, not just a deferred hope in the hereafter.

Hope now and then

Our understanding of the good news of Jesus Christ—what we call “the gospel” for short—is built on our understanding of redemption. And here, I take leave of the editorial and dive into the theological.

Do we believe Jesus died and rose again to save only our souls for and in eternity? Or do we believe the salvation we have in Jesus applies to the physical world and our physical bodies in the here and now, as well as for and in eternity? The world is interested in our answer.

If we believe our hope is only for eternity—what we might call a spiritual hope—then there are many in the world, including our children and their children, who find little good news in that. For them, a giant meteor just might be preferable to so much else they see and experience in this world, especially if that giant meteor can get them to eternity faster.

The upside of this belief is it frees us from doing much to embody and enact justice in this world. Just save people’s souls, and our work here is done. Sounds easy enough, but we’re not doing a bang-up job of even the “easy” part.

If we believe our only hope is in and for this world—what we could call a material hope—then so much about our world at present makes a giant meteor very attractive. At a minimum, it makes Louis Armstrong’s “What a Wonderful World” a ludicrous sentiment.

This is a disturbing thought for those remaining members of the Builder or Greatest Generation—and some Boomers, too—who, despite World War II, saw so much progress during their lifetimes. In fact, that thought seems to be the opposite of hope.

If we believe our hope is not just for eternity but is also for this world here and now—what I will call an incarnational hope—then we have incredibly good news for a world that, by all appearances, is desperate for it.

I call this third option an incarnational hope because it is predicated on the incarnation of Jesus and sealed in his resurrection from death to life. Jesus, being fully God—coequal and eternal—took on human flesh. He was and is God-incarnate—fully God and fully man. No, I don’t understand that.

After living a sinless life, Jesus was crucified and died—hanging until he was dead, dead, dead. He was buried dead. He lay in the grave dead. On the third day, he rose from all-the-way-dead to all-the-way-alive—yes, spiritually and also bodily, as the biblical record and human testimony attest. In him, we have the promise of this same resurrection from death to life. In him, we have a present and a future hope.

There is a catch in an incarnational hope, however, and that catch is two-fold. One, believing in this hope requires us to embody it in the world. Two, this world mitigates against all belief in a present and future hope.

Hope is not just a silver lining

For centuries, followers of Jesus have embodied this hope among orphans, immigrants and refugees; the poor, afflicted and addicted; the battered, worn and overwhelmed; the unclean, sinners and scoundrels. You’d think with all that embodying hope we wouldn’t have to embody it anymore, but this world is pretty broken, and persistently so.

As a result, we must not turn from incarnating this hope now. Not because we are divine; we aren’t. But because “we are God’s handiwork, created in Christ Jesus to do good works, which God prepared in advance for us to do” (Ephesians 2:10).

These good works we must do, this way of living we must live, is not simply to make the world a better place. We must keep doing these works—embodying this incarnational hope—because they communicate the good news of Jesus isn’t just a silver lining in the clouds. It is a living hope for all of life everywhere, in all times and in all circumstances.

Yes, the times are depressing; so, let’s pull together in this one living hope. When a giant meteor is preferable to presidential candidates on offer, and when the upcoming generations see little promise in the future, the world needs our lived testimony of Jesus’ eternal life now.

Eric Black is the executive director, publisher and editor of the Baptist Standard. He can be reached at eric.black@baptiststandard.com. The views expressed are those solely of the author.

Former President Donald Trump might make me a better person. I just shocked at least two groups of my readers. It’s true, though, but not in the way you might suspect, or in the way I would have expected.

I’ll explain by way of a story.

Location, location, location

My daughter and I were in the car recently when we passed a new business.

“Huh, a liquor store. I thought that was going to be a CVS or Walgreens,” I said.

“Well, that’s unfortunate placement, right next to a hospital,” she responded incredulously.

She did what I hadn’t done—put two and two together. She knows alcohol isn’t good for the body, too much alcohol really isn’t good for the body, and many people who will shop in that liquor store will consume too much alcohol. Ironically, they’ll buy their supply right across the street from a hospital. My daughter didn’t need that spelled out.

“We want to do whatever we want and expect other people to fix it,” I said.

She and I have these kinds of conversations—obvious jumps in logic, but she knows me well enough to know the unspoken steps. I doubt I need to spell those steps out for you on this one.

I asked my daughter if I could quote her for this editorial. She said, “Yeah,” and with some excitement asked, “What are you going to say I said?” You can read my answer above.

Elsewhere in the Dallas area, I regularly drive by a billboard advertising the Preston Hollow Emergency Room. Just under the billboard is the Casket Store. No joke, even though I laugh every time I pass it. I wonder who paid who to juxtapose the two.

They—whoever “they” are—say, “Timing is everything.” Location has to be a close second.

One of the locations we don’t give enough attention is our words. For that matter, we might not consider our words to be a location. But our words can be a location of cursing or blessing, hurting or healing, destruction or construction.

This is where I turn back to my opening statement: Former President Donald Trump might make me a better person.

Trump said what?

Anyone who follows politics and political rhetoric already knows about the firestorm Trump unleashed Sept. 30. Posting on his Truth Social network, he declared Sen. Mitch McConnell (R.-Ky.) “has a DEATH WISH” and followed that with a racial slur against McConnell’s wife.

You may be wondering, “And how, exactly, might Trump make you a better person?”

I’m getting to that.

My first response to Trump’s post was similar to so many others who have condemned and are condemning Trump’s comments. His words simply are unacceptable. They are demeaning, dehumanizing and beneath a purported leader.

But then I asked myself: “Why? Why are they unacceptable?”

After all, despite what some believe, Trump is not a religious leader. He’s not a pastor. He’s what Pastor Robert Jeffress wanted—“the meanest, toughest son-of-a-you-know-what” he could find. So, what’s the big deal with Trump using mean language? It’s what he’s supposed to do, right?

Beyond that, we all know Trump’s penchant for hyperbole, cussing and all-around shock value. For someone like that, “death wish” isn’t unusual. It could be Trump fishing for a reaction or expressing concern for McConnell’s state of mind. I might believe that, except for four years of well-documented remarks and tweets from Trump establishing a pattern, a reputation, a character that tears down.

Why do I think his words about McConnell and Elaine Chao are unacceptable? And why discuss them here?

Who says it matters

Trump’s words about McConnell and Chao are unacceptable for several reasons. Among them, as a person of significant influence, he doesn’t have much freedom to be careless with words, regardless of free speech provisions. He has a duty and responsibility to be careful—very careful—with his words.

But Trump regularly demonstrates his disregard for such responsibility. One famous example is when he said his voters are so loyal, he could “stand in the middle of Fifth Avenue and shoot somebody” and not lose any voters. A better—or worse—example is his “locker room” remarks to Access Hollywood’s Billy Bush about sexually assaulting women, to which I won’t link.

These are not responsible things to say—a colossal understatement—and Trump’s failure to apologize for or retract them leave it to others to fix what his words do.

These words and others like them located in Trump’s mouth or on his social platform carry a particularly concerning range of meaning because of where they are located. But what about when those words are located in someone else’s mouth or social posts? Is that a problem, too?

Yes. Trump isn’t the only person worth critique. Hillary Clinton calling Trump’s supporters a “basket of deplorables” was just as troublesome.

But these are easy examples. What about us? And by us, I mean the people visiting the liquor store across the street from the hospital.

How I might get better

We take a little nip now and then—a snide comment here, a crude statement there, a slip of the tongue up close. Taken individually, we think our comments won’t do much harm. But each one does, and accumulated over time, they can be detrimental.

Demeaning other people, done often enough, develops a pattern, a reputation, a character of tearing down. When we think it’s no big deal or that it’s deserved, we take the poisonous liquid down like fresh margaritas on a hot day. One day, when our liver’s pickled, we’ll expect a doctor to fix us.

All of this ran through my head right after I told my daughter, “We want to do whatever we want and expect other people to fix it.” And it stopped me cold. My thoughts, anyway. I was driving, after all. It stopped me cold, because who am I to judge?

Trump provides an example of what I don’t want to be like. This isn’t a political statement. It’s a character statement built on who Jesus calls me and every other Christian to be.

As I’ve already said, Trump isn’t the only one who uses careless language. All of us do, at least once in our lives. If we’re honest—if I’m honest—it’s been more than once. As much as I’d like to say Jesus has cured me of it, that would be saying too much.

Jesus may be trying to cure me now in a place I didn’t expect. He may be using the negative example of Trump, for the moment, to make me a better person. If that’s what it takes, then I’ll have to go there, because I want my words to be a location of blessing, not cursing; healing, not hurting; construction, not destruction.

Eric Black is the executive director, publisher and editor of the Baptist Standard. He can be reached at eric.black@baptiststandard.com. The views expressed are those solely of the author.

Life is like a poorly choreographed dance. The music is ever-changing, dancers come and go, and each pair is trying to get through another song without stepping on each other’s toes, running into another pair or collapsing. Then there are the solo dancers, the groups and the lines. Only one thing doesn’t change—the floor.

Occasionally, we need to step off the dance floor to rest. As we rest, we can observe the dancers still on the floor and get a better sense of what’s really going on.

Ronald Heifetz, Alexander Grashow and Martin Linsky use this metaphor in their book The Practice of Adaptive Leadership. As a leadership principle, they advocate not just getting off the dance floor, but getting up on a “balcony” overlooking the dance floor. This balcony time gets a leader out of the forest—to mix metaphors—to get perspective on what’s really happening with the trees.

“Getting on the balcony” isn’t just a leadership principle; it’s a life principle.

The dance floor of life is particularly unsettled now. We need to get some perspective. It will do us good.

The problem with our metaphorical dance floor is not that it is crowded. The problem—as we tend to see it—is what we remember as feeling more like an ordered square or line dance now feels like a mosh pit. The dancers and moves we learned to anticipate now seem utterly chaotic and threatening.

Be forewarned: The following may raise your anxiety or blood pressure, but there’s good news on the other side.

Global politics

Of prime concern is Russia’s war against Ukraine. Russia isn’t just alluding to nuclear weapons; they now are speaking openly of their use. A second concern is the delicate dance China and the United States are engaged in over the status of Taiwan.

A flare-up some may have overlooked is the Iranian government shutting down the nation’s internet last week in response to growing protests after a Kurdish woman died in the custody of the morality police. Today, Iran’s Revolutionary Guard delivered an air strike against Kurds in Northern Iraq.

Close to home, there is some anxiety over the fast-approaching Nov. 8 election. Questions include: Will our elections be secure? Will election officials find enough poll workers? Who will win? How will the election outcome be received? What will follow?

Texas experienced a poll worker shortage during the 2022 primary election, and a similar shortage is anticipated nationwide for the general election.

These are just the most recent higher-profile concerns. Not to be ignored is the political upheaval in Burma/Myanmar; the ongoing civil war in the Democratic Republic of the Congo; Muslim/Hindu riots in Leicester, U.K.; and unrest in so many more places.

Global economics

Inflation is raging around the world. Food and energy prices are unsustainable for countless millions. The Federal Reserve and other central banks around the world aren’t just raising interest rates to halt inflation; they are knowingly and intentionally sacrificing market stability to achieve more stable markets.

Global climate

A list of global climate concerns could be endless. Here are a handful.

The western United States is enduring its worst drought in 1,200 years. Monsoon floods in Pakistan are so severe it could take six months for the water to recede. Hurricane Ian made landfall south of Tampa, Fla., this afternoon while I wrote this editorial.

Methane gas is leaking from allegedly sabotaged Nord Stream 1 and 2 pipelines in the Baltic Sea near Denmark. The largest leak is about 1 kilometer—0.62 miles, or almost 11 football fields, or a 233-story skyscraper—in diameter. It may be two weeks before the leaks can be investigated because of the danger of entering the area any sooner.

Global health

Along with COVID continuing to sicken and kill millions worldwide, common respiratory viruses seem to be making a comeback among children. Monkeypox and polio also are a concern.

The availability of water is a growing problem. The months without drinkable water in Jackson, Miss., is just one example of the global water crisis, which often overlaps with politics, economics, climate, race and other complicating factors.

Food insecurity has risen markedly over the last two years, aggravated by the COVID pandemic, political and armed conflicts, climate change and economic volatility.

Oh, and Baptists

Baptists and other Christians are also amid the seemingly out-of-control dance. In just the last several days, we heard rumors of Adam Greenway resigning as president of Southwestern Baptist Theological Seminary. After reaching out immediately to Greenway and seminary officials, we finally received confirmation late the following day.

Yes, Greenway did resign. Why, we don’t know. He said he was going to the International Mission Board. Today, he tweeted he is not. O.S. Hawkins was the announced interim president. On Sept. 27, seminary trustees announced David Dockery will be interim president, co-leading with Hawkins.

Meanwhile, Texas Baptists are seeking a new executive director after David Hardage’s retirement. As with any leadership vacancy, many have “who,” “when” and “what” questions. Also, Houston Baptist University changed its name to Houston Christian University, sparking a different set of questions and reactions.

One sure thing

Global concerns can be held at arm’s length, but not forever. They frequently become personal. Then, they can overwhelm.

How are you? Anxious?

The dance floor is chaotic and threatening indeed. We are anxious about personal, social and institutional survival in multiple directions and levels—and for good reason. But not everything is chaotic and threatening. Still, the uncertainty of even benign change can unnerve and unsettle us.

When we’re in the middle of the turmoil, it’s all we can see. We need to step off the dance floor and get some perspective.

When we step back from the dance and take everything in, we will see one sure thing—the floor isn’t moving.

In a spiritual sense—and no less real for being spiritual—Jesus Christ is the unmoving floor just as much as he is the “Lord of the dance,” to use the title of an Irish song by The Dubliners.

While acknowledging much is uncertain, chaotic and threatening about our world at the moment, one thing is for sure—the Lord Jesus Christ is a sure foundation. Everything we do stands or falls on him.

Though I stand on this foundation—the unmoving floor of Jesus Christ—I feel all the same whirling winds and hear the same roar as everyone else. In these days of volatility, we need to step off the floor and regain this perspective.

When we do, we will be renewed by the Lord of the dance telling us:

“Dance, then, wherever you may be,
I am the Lord of the Dance, said he,
And I’ll lead you all, wherever you may be,
And I’ll lead you all in the Dance, said he.”

We can’t stay off the dance floor forever. Eventually, we have to get back in the dance, because that’s where Jesus Christ—the Lord of and under, above and in the dance—calls us to be.

Eric Black is the executive director, publisher and editor of the Baptist Standard. He can be reached at eric.black@baptiststandard.com. The views expressed are those solely of the author.

I am an immigrant. In 1993, I immigrated from New Mexico to Texas to attend college. Most people here were kind to me, but there were some who never let me forget I wasn’t from Texas. They also never let me forget what they thought of people from New Mexico. It wasn’t kind. And these were Christians, Baptists no less.

I can only imagine how I might have been treated had I come across the southern border instead of the western. Actually, no, I don’t have to imagine. I’ve seen it and heard it. Even among Baptists in Texas.

The devaluing and demeaning of immigrants by professing followers of Jesus must stop. It is undignified. It is beneath a follower of Jesus. And it is to mock the Creator in whose image every immigrant is made—regardless how an immigrant came into the United States. We can do much better than that.

If you’ve followed the news since Sept. 14, you probably know what sparked this editorial. In case you haven’t—and not everyone follows the news—here’s a summary.

Immigrants flown to Martha’s Vineyard

On Sept. 14, about 50 Venezuelan immigrants landed on Martha’s Vineyard, a wealthy and largely Democrat island off the southern coast of Massachusetts. They were enticed with promises of jobs and shelter in Boston. The two chartered flights—paid for by Florida Gov. Ron DeSantis—never landed in Boston.

While this latest “migrant relocation” struck a nerve even among immigration hawks, it is a natural progression of what Florida, Texas and Arizona governors have been doing for months—busing immigrants to Democrat-led cities.

These governors have the support of a majority of their states, as well as Republicans nationwide. Support isn’t universal, however. What’s more, this latest action may have involved criminal elements, generating an investigation by Bexar County Sheriff Javier Salazar.

This is just the most recent background for this editorial. Followers of Jesus have even deeper and older background that must inform our response to immigrants, regardless what government policy may be.

Immigration by the Bible

First and foremost, immigrants are no less created in the image of God than you and me. This is a bedrock principle on which all other treatment of immigrants stands.

A very close second is Jesus gave his life for immigrants no less than he gave his life for you and me, because God loves immigrants no less than God loves you and me.

The Bible gets more specific and actually commands specific treatment of “foreigners,” “strangers” or “sojourners.”

Twice in Exodus, God commands the Israelites: “You shall not wrong a stranger or oppress him” (Exodus 22:21). “You shall not oppress a stranger” (Exodus 23:9).

Leviticus 19:33-34 reads: “When a stranger resides with you in your land, you shall not do him wrong. The stranger who resides with you shall be to you as the native among you, and you shall love him as yourself.”

Deuteronomy 27:19 reads: “Cursed is he who distorts the justice due an alien (NASB).” Or: “Cursed be anyone who perverts the justice due to the sojourner” (ESV).

These commands never were abrogated. Instead, they were solidified in Jesus’ command to love our neighbor as we love ourselves, followed by his two parables about the Good Samaritan and the least of these.

This is just a portion of what the Bible has to say about immigrants.

Government policy doesn’t always follow the Bible, but a Christian must.

What Christians mustn’t do

It’s often easier to say what Christians mustn’t do than what we should do.

Christians must never use immigrants. Immigrants are people. We use things, not people.

Christians in government—Republican, Democrat or otherwise—must never use immigrants to make political points. Christians must not support, defend or encourage such use of people. One way I’ve heard Christians encourage or defend the flights to Martha’s Vineyard is with derogatory jokes about the residents of the island.

By spreading and laughing at such derogatory jokes, Christians have demeaned immigrants along with people with whom they disagree, and they have mocked the Christ they proclaim.

We can’t operate only in the negative, though. We also must step into the positive—what we can and should do.

What Christians can do

In the United States, Christians are able to influence government and society through direct communication with elected officials and through voting. We can and should do that, but that’s easy.

We also need to do the hard things. We need to encourage, support and defend human flourishing here and abroad. We already do this through careful mission and humanitarian work. By careful, I mean it is not paternalistic or exploitive. We need to do more.

We can learn from and participate with organizations such as Evangelical Immigration Table and National Immigration Forum. Both are centrist organizations that value the balance of law and grace.

Harder still, we can get involved in immigrants’ lives. I didn’t just get to meddling. I’ve been meddling since the first paragraph.

Getting involved in immigrants’ lives requires at least two things: letting go of fear and rejecting a scarcity mindset. Neither one of those will excuse us when we answer to God for how well we followed Scripture’s commands regarding immigrants.

Here again, we can and should learn from people already involved in immigrants’ lives. City Church in Del Rio and Calvary Baptist Church in McAllen are just two examples.

We don’t have to wait for our government to sort out immigration policy to care for immigrants. Instead, we can care for people who come to us, regardless why they came or how they got here. God expects nothing less.

Eric Black is the executive director, publisher and editor of the Baptist Standard. He can be reached at eric.black@baptiststandard.com. The views expressed are those solely of the author.