It’s the week before Christmas, and what’s there to do?
Congress is stirring. What about you?

For the second time in my lifetime, a U.S. President stands to be impeached. Let me unpack that statement.

To readers who remember Nixon’s impending impeachment, yes, I am barely that young. To readers who don’t remember Clinton’s impeachment, yes, I am that old.

For those who are unclear about what impeachment means at this point, we are in the middle of one step of a process allowed by Article II, Section 4 of the U.S. Constitution. If the U.S. House of Representatives votes to impeach President Trump—which forecasters indicate is a given—then the U.S. Senate will vote to keep Trump in office—which forecasters also indicate is a given.

In fact, by the time you read this, the House vote may have been cast.

Impeachment during the Nixon Administration was a response to clearly problematic conduct on the part of President Nixon. The impeachment of President Clinton was more political in tone. The current impeachment process clearly is political in tone—to the point of bitter partisanship.

While so many are blistering one another rhetorically—like the old “sticks and stones” rhyme in reverse mixed with imprecatory prayers—followers of Christ must not feed into this bitter partisanship. We must remain above it.

Followers of Christ need to be partisan, too, but in a different sense. Followers of Christ need to be partial to the Lordship of Jesus Christ, whose apostle exhorts us to “live at peace with everyone” (Romans 12:18).

Living at peace is hard to do

We live in a hard time for peace. We live in a time when some professing Christians call other professing Christians “godless” and other professing Christians respond with, “Hypocrites.”

Some of us think the “godless” are right, and others of us think the “hypocrites” are right, and we all think Jesus is right.

Pause for a moment to reflect on what you just read.

We are singing “peace on Earth, goodwill to men” in our politically segregated worship services only to condemn one another on social media as we walk across the parking lot to our cars.

Oh, yes, it’s a hard time for peace.

Followers of Christ, we need to be partisan, but not in the way some of our politicians are. We need to be partial to bearing the fruit of the Spirit, which is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness and self-control, not to wielding rhetorical sledgehammers and cleavers against each other.

It’s hard not to congeal into opposing sides, though, when we expect to decide along party lines such important questions as what to do with a president.

Yes, the Democrats have the majority in the House and very likely will vote to impeach President Trump. Much ado will be made of this.

Yes, the Republicans have the majority in the Senate and very likely will vote not to remove President Trump from office, and much ado will be made of that.

Amid all the ado, what will followers of Christ be doing? Will we be clamoring for political war, or in the peace of Christ, will we be the glue that holds when so much of our society seems to be fraying?

Politicians and talking heads have an interest in defining “Christian” to suit their purposes, even when those figures profess to be Christians themselves. If we allow them to set the terms, we will be tossed on the waves.

By contrast, followers of Christ live in his peace when they don’t allow politicians and talking heads to determine who the true Christians are but instead define themselves in Christ, the Crucified One. Only then do they live in peace, and only then do they become the glue that holds and thereby serve their world well.

It’s the restless week before Christmas

It’s the week before Christmas, and we’ve work to do.
Congress is stirring. What about you?
When the votes are counted, and the gavel falls,
will you follow people or Jesus when he calls?

Jesus said: “The Holy Spirit, whom the Father will send in my name, will teach you all things and will remind you of everything I have said to you.

“Peace I leave with you; my peace I give you. I do not give to you as the world gives. Do not let your hearts be troubled” (John 14:26-27).

We no longer proclaim peace when there is no peace; for we live in the time after Jesus rose from the dead and gave us his Spirit. Now, we proclaim peace because there is peace, even if we can’t see him. His Spirit produces peace in us, even in the midst of such divisive times.

Follower of Christ, in your going, proceed in peace, so the “godless” and “hypocrites” in our midst will see Christ’s goodness in us and, rather than crying “pagan” and “fraud,” they will cry, “Glory to God in the highest,” and you know the rest—peace on Earth, goodwill to all.

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

On the way to a meeting this morning, I heard the news. Greta Thunberg is Time Magazine’s Person of the Year for 2019.

Many consider her a modern-day prophet, but others just can’t see her that way.

I’ve seen the memes and the satire. A large number of people think Thunberg is crazy. Some think she is whiny. Brazilian President Jair Bolsonaro thinks she’s a “brat.” Maybe she is. I don’t really know since I haven’t hung out with her.

Some who despise the Swedish way of doing things wonder if anything good can come from Sweden. Others wonder why anyone would take a 16-year-old seriously.

From where I sit, the reactions to Greta Thunberg are revealing. I look at the situation from the perspective of someone who reads the Bible, has taught it and preached it, and who believes the Bible is true. The Bible portrays some unbelievable characters we know as prophets but who we wouldn’t believe if we could see them now.

Some crazy people we take seriously

Right off the bat, I think of Jesus. Jesus came from Nazareth, from where nothing good comes. When Jesus was 12 years old, he had the nerve to “school” those at the temple who had far more schooling than he had. And they were thoroughly impressed.

Jesus was far more than a prophet, and Thunberg is far less than Jesus—as we all are. Even so, I see the reactions of some Christians to Thunberg and marvel that any of us believe the stories about Jesus.

Then there’s John the Baptist. We hold up that John as a biblical hero for calling the religious leaders “vipers” and fulfilling prophecy by preparing the way for Jesus. However, if he stood in front of us today, we would call him nuts. We might even shred him with memes and satire.

John set himself apart from the establishment in his dress, speech and residence. He called out their sins and called them to account. To those who followed him, he was like Elijah. To those he chastised, he was a crazy man. A crazy man who baptized Jesus, who pointed his followers to follow Jesus instead, who ended up imprisoned and decapitated for his stance on sexual affairs.

John the Baptist wasn’t a Swedish teenager, and Thunberg isn’t calling out the religious establishment for their sins … or is she?

God told Isaiah to strip and go naked, which Isaiah did for three years. Imagine taking him seriously in that condition. Yet, Jesus frequently quoted Isaiah, as do we. It’s Isaiah who wrote of the one who would be “despised and rejected,” the one whose wounds would heal us. We take Isaiah very seriously, maybe because we don’t picture him naked.

Amos was a shepherd God sent to afflict the comfortable, the “cows of Bashan” he called them. A shepherd calling the elites “cows.” That’s funny. Not nice, but funny. But only because he wasn’t talking to us … or was he?

Serious people we think are crazy

If we step back and look at ourselves looking at the Greta Thunbergs of the world, we may see something ironic. We may see we have an exceedingly difficult time taking a prophetic person seriously. The irony is we are able to take prophetic people in the Bible seriously. Or are we?

This should give us pause.

When confronted with unpleasant information, when accused of wrongdoing, we feel compelled to decide quickly between legitimate counsel and hogwash.

In our current climate, if the messenger looks like us, votes like us and holds a respectable position (like us), we are more apt to take that person seriously. But if the messenger doesn’t look or sound like us, doesn’t vote like us, comes from somewhere we despise and speaks from a low position, it’s just too much to believe; it’s hogwash.

We shouldn’t necessarily take Greta Thunberg and others like her at face value. We do have to be discerning. However, while we can’t believe every supposed prophet, we do need to be careful how we respond to them.

If we are willing to take the likes of Amos, Isaiah, John the Baptist and Jesus seriously, then we should be able to give some consideration—prayerfully, thoughtfully and compassionately—to the person whose face we see now.

On the flip side, if we ridicule, mock and deride those like Thunberg as coming across like whiny brats, we need to re-examine the way we engage and understand Scripture. We may not believe the Bible after all.

If we reject every prophetic voice of our time whose message conflicts with our accepted truth, we will dull our senses to all truth. The Bible helps us learn to discern.

Should Greta Thunberg be the Time Magazine Person of the Year for 2019? Does she warrant such accolades? I don’t know enough to make that determination.

Is Greta Thunberg a prophet? I’m not ready to say she is.

What I can say is we’ve been given enough grace to be gracious to her and others like her. We can listen. We can appreciate their concerns. And most importantly, we can look for God’s voice and guidance in whomever God decides to send to us.

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

A once-beloved comedian told about making a cake for his child. He was agitated and grabbed a carton of eggs out of the refrigerator with a bit too much aggression. Coming to his senses, he addressed the audience, saying, “You have to be careful with eggs.”

The same is true of metaphors. You have to be careful with metaphors.

I used a metaphor a couple of weeks ago that had unintended consequences, and I am sorry for what I communicated unintentionally.

The metaphor that went wrong

A couple of weeks ago, I wrote about the quietness of the BGCT annual meeting. I referred to a garden and pulling weeds. I intended one thing, but some of my readers understood another thing, one of whom wrote a letter to the editor, which I published along with my response.

The letter writer didn’t put me up to an additional response. The reason I’m coming back to this discussion is because I’ve editorialized about the importance of word choice. The words we use matter. The letter writer helped me take another look at my own words.

A metaphor is built on relationships

A metaphor relies on context. Adding to that challenge, contexts differ, taking the received meaning of metaphors along for the ride.

Some of my readers took “pulling weeds” as a direct reference to them. They have felt, with respect to denominational disputes, as though they were treated like unwanted weeds. Others have argued that point, not with garden metaphors, but by saying—right or wrong—those now out of the BGCT chose a path that ultimately led to their being out of fellowship.

Some of my readers may have taken “weeds” as an accurate description of people and churches who no longer are part of the BGCT. These readers may have appreciated the metaphor. They may have agreed, thinking it accurate.

Given the difference between these two groups of readers, my metaphor was not a helpful one, regardless how I intended it.

Responding to readers

To the second group of readers: I was not trying to reduce people and churches from their status as beloved by God to something more like a despised weed to be pulled and thrown away.

To the first group of readers, those who may have thought I called them weeds: I have friends and family among those no longer in the BGCT. It is a source of grief for them and for me. I should have been more careful in the words I chose. I meant you no harm, and I am sorry. I did not intend to reduce you to anything less than who you are—fearfully and wonderfully made in God’s image.

The same goes for both groups of readers. You both are beloved by God.

Be careful. Metaphors are loaded

When we find ourselves holding diametrically opposed views from one another, we tend to draw up sides and reject the opposition. To take the sting out of rejecting people we historically considered part of us, we resort to dehumanization—subtle or blatant.

It’s easier for us to attack, cut off or hurt those we see as less human than ourselves. Sin has so affected us that we don’t seem to mind dehumanizing one another, and once done, we don’t seem to mind hurting one another.

Here’s a test: For Republicans, what do you think about Democrats, or vice versa? For those opposed to same-sex marriage, what do you feel about those who accept it, or vice versa?

And do our thoughts and feelings about one another make our positions any more correct or Christlike?

We will know by our descriptions of one another.

We must guard against dehumanizing others, which is accomplished with dehumanizing words and, yes, metaphors. We must maintain one another’s humanity, even when—especially when—we disagree so strongly with one another.

What’s behind the weed metaphor

It may be too little consolation to know what undergirds my metaphor and much of my thought about the Christian life, but here goes.

Much of my thought about discipleship—a person’s relationship with Jesus and how that person follows Jesus—is informed by the 19th century Danish Christian, writer, philosopher and provocateur Søren Kierkegaard.

Kierkegaard took God, Jesus, the Bible and the church very seriously. Some think he took them too seriously; others think he didn’t take them seriously enough. It’s so easy to disagree, isn’t it?

I’ve spent years reading and studying Kierkegaard’s Christian writings, five of those years for my Ph.D. dissertation. To distill his thought about discipleship into a couple of sentences is difficult, but here goes.

Kierkegaard’s concern was that people submit themselves to Jesus no matter the cost and that each person relate to Jesus with his or her own faith, not with someone else’s faith. For a person to have such a direct relationship with Jesus, that person must allow Jesus to work on him or her inwardly, living in the tension of never being totally certain but always trusting.

Kierkegaard never thought he exemplified his ideas about the Christian life.

Pulling weeds as a metaphor for spiritual formation

I used to be a landscaper. I’ve pulled a lot of weeds, maybe as many as the sand on the shore. I don’t know; I lost count. While I was a pastor, I spent many afternoons meditating as I pulled weeds around our church building.

I tried to pull every weed up by the roots. I didn’t want to break the weed off at the ground because it would just grow back with even stronger roots. Dry clay worked against me, holding fast to the roots as I broke the weed loose. Every time that happened, I knew I would be dealing with that weed again.

If I thought of a specific person while pulling weeds, I asked for God’s help working through a situation with that person or for God to help that person in his or her situation. I didn’t seek for any person to be removed from the church, the community or from life. Mostly, I asked God to rid me of my own sin, to remove it completely from my life so I wouldn’t keep dealing with it.

To my readers, wherever you are in relation to the BGCT, Baptist life in Texas, Baptist life in general or otherwise, every single one of us has the weed of sin growing in us. That weed needs to be pulled out by the roots. We can’t afford to be impatient, imprecise or careless about it, leaving the root to grow stronger while, by all appearances, we look like a well-tended garden.

One weed we need pulled, one that seems to be gaining ground daily, is the weed of dehumanization. It’s sneaky. It’s prolific. It’s deadly. Pull it, roots and all.

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

We often wonder what aliens visiting Earth would think of the things we do or what archaeologists 1,000 years from now will think about us based on what they find.

Asking what an alien or archaeologist would think is one question, but if Thanksgiving means anything at all, a better question is what should they know about Thanksgiving?

What our culture “knows” about Thanksgiving

If the places we shop or the TV we watch are any indication, our extraterrestrial visitors or distant descendants might think Thanksgiving is about turkey decorations, parades and football.

With respect to football, I’m at a loss for how to explain the connection between Thanksgiving and football or between turkeys, cowboys and lions. Maybe aliens and archaeologists can help explain this connection.

I’m also not sure why Thanksgiving warrants such an elaborate parade. A little research reveals the famous parade started in the 1920s—when so much was booming in the United States—with the purpose of bringing shoppers to New York City’s largest department store just in time for Christmas shopping. What a cynical thing to do with Thanksgiving!

Come to think of it, our cultural observance of Thanksgiving is thoroughly cynical: depicting the main course as a cute cartoon, stuffing ourselves silly, pretending Anglos and Native Americans have been nothing but friends since the hallowed original feast, not to mention the parade and football.

Adding to the cultural accumulation is the trope of the dysfunctional family trying to sit at a table together long enough to stuff themselves silly without much thought of the people who would give anything to be with family no longer at the table.

What children know about Thanksgiving

Our culture really isn’t much help in understanding Thanksgiving. There’s too much (money) at stake at this point to peel the onion and return to any original intent for the annual celebration.

Can we find help anywhere else in answering what aliens and archaeologists should know about Thanksgiving?

I asked a handful of young people a version of this question. I simplified my question so they didn’t get distracted with their own questions about aliens or wondering, “What’s an arkeelojist?”

I asked, “What should people know about Thanksgiving?”

I’ve recorded their answers below. Their names are changed to protect the innocent.

“The main thing is to really be thankful for everything.” – Lindsey, 9

“The pilgrims and the Native Americans became friends.” – Lacey, 11

“And had a feast together.” – Leticia, 8

“Thanksgiving is a big feast at dinner. The Pilgrims came to America on the Mayflower. Squanto taught the Pilgrims to grow food. The Native Americans decided to have a big feast with the Pilgrims, and they told Squanto that.” – Nick, 6

“If you’re going somewhere else for Thanksgiving, you should just put up your Christmas tree before you leave. And if you have a friend who is a farmer, and it’s Thanksgiving, you should just ask them for a turkey.” – Clark, 8

“If you don’t eat food, you die.” – Samuel, 6

“Good food.” – Alex, 13

“It’s not about food, where you are or what you do. It’s about being together.” – Candace, 9

“People should spend time with their family and be thankful to God for things. Be thankful for our family and for God and for friends.” – Ophelia, 9

“We need to thank God for everything we have, like God, family and trees because they give us oxygen. We should just be thankful for the things that we have like food and shelter instead of being greedy and wanting everything.” – Gwen, 11

Oddly enough, football, parades and turkey decorations didn’t make the list of things these young people think should be known about Thanksgiving.

What should be known about Thanksgiving

Though our children do reflect our culture—how could they not since we are their teachers and models—they still have enough innocence to pull us back to a simpler understanding of what we are doing on Thanksgiving Day.

According to the earliest account, the purpose of the first Thanksgiving celebration, which took place in 1621, was to express gratitude for “the goodness of God” that kept the Pilgrim settlers “so far from want.” To express this gratitude, the settlers brought together their plentiful food and shared it.

Despite all the cultural accumulation that obscures the original intent, despite tragic historic realities that mock the original intent, the kernel of Thanksgiving still holds. That kernel is that we should stop to acknowledge “the goodness of God” that keeps us “so far from want.”

Our stopping should be for joyful sharing. It should include peeling off what our culture has added. And it should include acknowledging wrongs and our part in them.

Thanksgiving should be gratitude pure and simple, a profound thankfulness for the things we have, while also guarding against “being greedy and wanting everything.”

Our culture teaches us to want everything and to be satisfied with nothing. But our God, the source and lifeblood of all thanksgiving, teaches us—and possible aliens and future archaeologists—that goodness, mercy and love unending is found in simple trust in him.

All creatures look to you
to give them their food at the proper time.
When you give it to them,
they gather it up;
when you open your hand,
they are satisfied with good things.
(Psalm 104:27-28)

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

There’s an idea among Baptists that if you want people to show up to business meetings, you need a good controversy.

We don’t need a good controversy—or a bad one, for that matter. We need a good party—as in a celebration.

Baptists are known for fighting

Baptists are strange people. We are as turned off as anyone else by a nasty church fight … until we’re upset about something, and then we’re all in. This is not a commendation.

Baptists actually are stranger than that. We care very little for business meetings … unless there’s the promise of a good fight. This is not a commendation either.

The more peaceful and quiet church business meetings are—and convention business sessions—the fewer people tend to show up. With every peaceful business meeting that goes by, the less interest people have in showing up. Everything seems to be running smoothly. Why bother? Apparently, everything’s being taken care of.

Baptists are stranger still. If things are peaceful too long, there must be something wrong. Surely, things are too quiet. When things are quiet, we tend to fill the void with our own imaginations—our very active imaginations. We all could be screenwriters.

Shouldn’t we be concerned when things are going smoothly? Don’t we need to be worried?

No.

Baptists would like to be known for not fighting

How about celebrating how smoothly things are going?

How about getting busy with mission and ministry, so busy that there isn’t time to worry about how smoothly things are going?

How about getting so busy communicating the good news about Jesus and teaching people how to follow Jesus and being the hands and feet of Jesus that the only problems we have are the natural obstacles to getting things done in this world?

What if we were so consumed with acting out our faith in Jesus Christ that we didn’t have enough energy left to find ways to disagree with our fellow Christians, that we didn’t have time or strength to allow those disagreements to fester into picking fights with one another over things we will be embarrassed to admit to Jesus?

What if—this may be going too far—what if we spent so much of ourselves doing what Jesus told us to do that when we stop to rest, our rest involves coming together to celebrate the fruit of our labor and to gear up for going back to work?

After all, we were not created to sit around and bicker and worry and fight. We were called to more than fault-finding and nitpicking. We were created and called to work the garden. Working the garden is supposed to occupy us. It is supposed to be a joy—our joy and God’s—and God still wants to celebrate that work with us.

I am using “working the garden” as a metaphor, a wonderful picture of making God’s good creation flourish, of multiplying God’s joyful intent for the world.

Baptists can be known for celebrating

I am grateful for an “uneventful” annual meeting of the Baptist General Convention of Texas.

I’m thankful we did such boring things as:

• re-elect leaders who did so much good the previous year and promise to do more good;
• launch a new ministry effort to do real good in Jesus’ name for foster children in Texas; and
• celebrate 100 years of ministry with college students from all over the world.

In the quiet of an “uneventful” convention, God’s creation seems to be flourishing. Oh, it’s not without its problems. Even the best gardens need a weed pulled here and there. Some plants need training, pruning and fertilizing, but that’s the normal work toward flourishing.

The best gardens are not a monoculture. They do not consist of one type of plant. They are made of numerous kinds of plants that leaf out, bloom and go to seed at different times for different reasons, and each has its place in the garden. The best gardens are anything but uneventful, however quiet they may appear.

I’m glad Texas Baptists are not a monoculture. I’m glad and celebrate that we are not all cut from the same cookie cutter. I’m glad we bring—among other differences—so many different perspectives, nationalities and skin colors together to do one thing, the work Jesus gave us to do, which is to making God’s good creation flourish in and by Jesus Christ, multiplying through him God’s joyful intent for the world.

Let’s give so much of ourselves to that work this year that when we get together again next year we won’t have anything left in us but to celebrate the joy of the good work God gave us.

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

Three different times in one weekend, I attended events where veterans were asked to stand. With scores of people in the room each time, I could count on one hand the number of veterans who stood each time. I remember a time when most of the men and some of the women in the room stood.

I might not have paid too much attention to the small number of vets standing if I hadn’t witnessed it three times in rapid succession. I’ve noticed this trend over the years, fewer and fewer vets standing for recognition on Veteran’s Day. I would consider this a good thing except for the world in which we live.

When many vets stood together

I didn’t serve in the military, but most of the men in my family did.

Both of my grandfathers served during World War II. My mom’s dad served in North Africa and Italy; my dad’s dad served in the Pacific and again in Korea. My mom’s dad lost most of the hearing in one of his ears in an explosion. My dad’s dad was on the first Lexington carrier––Lady Lex––when she was sunk during the Battle of the Coral Sea.

My dad gave eight years to the Air Force, spending some of that time in Vietnam.

All three––my two grandfathers and my dad––were profoundly changed by their military service. How could they not be? I was profoundly changed by a few years in college, which doesn’t hold a candle to even a few months at war.

I’ve heard a few stories from their time in the military … but not many. Some things are very hard to talk about.

All three served at a time when, if you were a male of a certain age, you were going to serve in the military. If you didn’t join voluntarily, you stood a good chance of being volunteered, or drafted. That’s why when I was young, every room was full of veterans.

Growing up around vets

When I was young, military service touched all of us. If we didn’t serve, our parents did. My children are growing up in a far different time.

My dad grew up in the shadow of World War II and during the Korean War. He grew up very close to the glory of the Allied victory in World War II and the stories and pictures of vets’ celebrated homecoming.

Then there was Vietnam.

Oh, what am I doing? I’m talking about things I don’t know. I’m talking about things I only know from the outside looking in. And from the outside looking in, it seems we as Americans know less and less about what it means to be a veteran.

Then there was Vietnam. Dad wasn’t welcomed home the same way his dad was welcomed home. How things had changed.

The days when vets are invisible

At least three of my high school classmates joined the military after graduation, all three voluntarily. We didn’t have the spectre of the draft. Nor did high school graduates in 2001, 2002 or 2003 when the U.S. commitment to war was so high.

I don’t remember when my classmates came home. I don’t remember when one returned from Bosnia or another returned from Iraq.

In eight years as the pastor of a small country church in a very small country town, I can remember less than a handful of seniors who joined the military after graduation. I don’t know if any of them are or were in Iraq, Afghanistan or Syria. My ignorance is not a mark of pride.

With each passing year, it seems each generation becomes less and less connected to what it means to be a veteran. There are fewer and fewer of us who are one.

Until the last vet is standing

When just a handful of vets are standing, when those currently serving are out of sight of most of us, we may become less and less aware of what we owe to them. We may begin to take what we have more and more for granted. Really, there’s no “may” about it.

I long for the day when no military veterans are standing because we all have beaten our swords into plowshares, because nations aren’t lifting up the sword against nations, because we aren’t learning war anymore. But that day isn’t here, and it seems a long way off.

Because we don’t live in a world without war, because we do live in a world characterized by greed, hatred, mistrust, ego, fear and evil, we still need the willing and able to fight. We still need those who can and will to stand up against injustice, oppression and murder wherever it may be found.

And until there is no more war or need for war, we will need to stand by those who fight, right up to the last vet standing.

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

Voting is one of the great traditions of a democratic, congregationally led Baptist church. If there’s a pastor to be called, a budget to be adopted, a holiday meal to plan, a carpet color to choose, if there’s any decision from the most momentous to the most mundane, members of a congregationally led Baptist church expect to vote on it.

Some Baptist churches have turned over many decisions to committees, councils or staff. In these churches, rank and file members vote only on the most significant issues affecting the entire church, while everything else is decided by the leadership. Though such streamlining makes a church more efficient, members can feel shut out of the decision-making process.

The DNA of a democratic body is coded to give every member a voice and a vote. Churches—and nations—wriggle around the DNA by qualifying who constitutes a voting member. When churches no longer include the whole body in all or most decisions, leaders should expect to encounter a grieving membership, which can take the shape of conflict and even revolt.

In my own experience leading a church, sometimes it looked like the DNA was decaying. Fewer people stayed for business meetings. Fewer people chose to participate in voting. Decisions still needed to be made, and we didn’t want anyone to be shut out. But it’s hard to avoid the appearance of an oligarchy when just a handful of people show up to vote.

Your vote may be one of a handful

Voter turnout in odd-numbered years is dismally low. According to The Texas Tribune, 12 percent of registered voters turned out Nov. 5. That means Texans eligible to vote allowed just 12 percent of the voting population to change the state’s constitution. And that’s up from the last constitutional election in 2017.

According to a report by the Pew Charitable Trusts, Texas’ voter turnout for the 2014 midterm election was 28.9 percent. It was better in 2018, which was seen widely as a referendum on Donald Trump. In the 2018 midterm election, 46.3 percent of the eligible Texas population voted. Despite the increased turnout in 2018, the numbers in both elections indicate the majority of the voting population is perfectly fine with a minority of voters making the decisions.

Turn out in gubernatorial, presidential and other elections with statewide and national consequence tends to be higher. The U.S. Census Bureau reports voter turnout for the 2016 presidential election was 61.4 percent, a rate that has held more or less steady since at least 1980.

Reasons for not voting in the 2016 election include lack of interest and a belief that one’s vote doesn’t matter. To express these thoughts and feelings, disaffected people didn’t turn out to vote.

Some forgot or were too busy to get to the polls. Others wanted to vote but lacked a means to get to their polling site, were ill or out of town, or had registration problems.

The number one reason eligible voters didn’t vote: They didn’t like the candidates or campaign issues. A full quarter of the American population eligible to vote simply didn’t because of dislike for the options.

In my own experience leading a church, I know some members stayed home on business meeting days because they didn’t like the options. They voted by not voting. As a result, a smaller group decided without the benefit of their voice.

How we vote at church is probably how we vote elsewhere

Inasmuch as churches are made of the same people who make up our communities, cities, states and nation, the way we approach decision-making in the church very likely will mirror the way we approach secular elections.

I’ve seen the DNA of some democratic, congregationally led churches decay as church members become less and less engaged in the decision-making process of the church until one day, the members are all but shut out. I’ve heard some of those church members wonder out loud what happened.

I haven’t made every election. I’ve missed some—both in and outside of the church—and chastised myself for it. Even so, when I see the results of local, state and national elections, I am amazed—and chilled—that outcomes affecting all of us in small and large ways are being decided by so few people.

Some Christians believe their faith is under threat and their voice is being squelched, but one of the ways Christians still have significant influence in our society and still have a significant means for exhibiting their faith is by voting.

But I wonder if these Christians perceive a secular threat because they already have disengaged from their churches.

Your vote really does matter

Whether a particular church’s governing structure is congregational or hierarchical, democratic or authoritarian—the church is made of individual members. So is our country. Just as Jesus Christ sees fit to allow his body to rise and fall on the participation of its members, so will our country rise and fall on the participation of its citizens.

In Texas, the 10 constitutional amendments on the ballot weren’t as inspiring as presidential candidates, even if one of the amendments did relate to a personal income tax. Maybe you didn’t make it out to the polls on Nov. 5, but there is a national election one year away you may be very interested in. Exercise your voting muscles by engaging in the business of your church this year.

Strengthen our secular citizenship by being a fully engaged member of your church.

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

The city is loud. It’s even louder during disaster recovery. The elevated noise of recovery is sound in search of a song. Christians carry the tune for the occasion.

Stormy times in the Bachman Lake area of Dallas

A few weeks ago, Pastor Ricardo Brambila and I set a date to get together for lunch in the Bachman Lake area of northwest Dallas. Brambila is the pastor of Primera Iglesia Bautista en Dallas. Little did we know what would happen just a couple of weeks later.

Around 9 p.m. on Oct. 21, an EF-3 tornado plowed right through Primera Iglesia Bautista’s building.

A week later, after driving into the parking lot of Primera Iglesia Bautista and turning off the engine, I listened. With the radio and engine off, I heard chainsaws, generators, skid steers, semis and tree grinders; rubble falling into trailers, haul-away dumpsters and truck beds; contractors, insurance adjusters, onlookers and well-wishers.

All of that sound represented the demolition of dreams and decades of hard work.

Over the top of all of that was the regular jet noise of Southwest Airlines 737s landing over Bachman Lake, the strange sound of the world still turning.

I watched for at least 30 minutes as Pastor Brambila took phone call after phone call, received visitor after visitor and coordinated contractor after contractor.

There was a lot going on. There was a lot of noise. It sure looked like chaos in search of a melody.

Those who have lived through disasters and recovery know the sounds and silences. They can feel them.

I walked up to the remains of the building and saw the church’s piano in the middle of the room. It looked ready for an open-air concert. If only I knew how to play the piano.

Stormy times call for songs of hope

To get to Primera Iglesia Bautista, I drove past and through about 10 miles of tornado-ravaged neighborhoods. Recovery was underway the full length of the trip. Under all of the noise of recovery work was a hush, a hush like missing birds, a hush like missing songs.

When you’re in the middle of stormy times, how do you sing? I don’t know that you do.

Well, maybe you do, but I’ve watched people in the thick of things, and it seems like they’re doing everything they can to keep things moving forward. For them, there’s no time for singing.

I’ve watched others so overwhelmed by the storms, they have no breath for singing.

In those times, someone else will have to do the singing.

Pastor Brambila told me about the many people, churches and organizations that have reached out to him and Primera Iglesia Bautista to help them recover after the loss of their building. There’s music in that.

With particular gratitude, Brambila spoke of the connection between his church and other local Baptist churches, the local Baptist association, Baptist charitable organizations and the state Baptist convention. Through these relationships with others, Brambila and Primera Iglesia Bautista en Dallas don’t feel alone. That sounds like singing to me.

Through these relationships, Primera Iglesia Bautista is lifted with songs of hope. In the relief and recovery work, Baptists and other Christians are embodying the music of Jesus’ promise that the heavenly Father looks after the needs of those who seek him.

Stormy times are all around

The Bachman Lake area of northwest Dallas is not the only place impacted by storms—literal and figurative. Stormy times are all around.

Just as tornadoes are surgically precise and random at the same time, so are the storms ripping through communities. Some look small from the outside: financial distress, marital strain, parenting struggles, unemployment and others.

Other storms are fearsome to all who see them: gun violence, drug addiction, racial injustice, family violence, economic disparities, sexual predation, human trafficking and abuses of power, to name just a few.

Storms are raging in homes, neighborhoods and schools, in governments, along borders and throughout nations. In their wake, people are trying to recover, sometimes even as the storms still rage.

There are so many storms. There is so much sound and fury. And it seems to overwhelm to the point of silencing any song of hope.

But hope is one song that can’t be overwhelmed or silenced.

Let the people of God sing into the hush underneath the noise of our world. Let us sing our songs of hope.

Now, we sing

Given our long tradition of hymns and spiritual songs, Christians can do the singing, but in these times, the song must come through our lives more than just our mouths. Our singing on Sunday mornings is rehearsal for the performance.

Let’s respond to the storms around us. Let’s join together as the people of God and sing into the wake of the storms. Yes, Jesus said we would have trouble in this world, and he also told us to take heart because he has overcome the world. Let the music of our lives embody that hope.

Let’s work together to right wrongs and correct injustices.

Let’s join hands to carry each other’s burdens.

Let’s do such good that the music of our lives will be light drawing all people to glorify God in heaven.

Already, this work is underway. There’s still room in the choir—or the band, if you prefer.

Stormy times are all around us. Let’s sing for those who can’t.

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

The words we say to and about one another and when we say them matters. We know this, which adds to the pressure we feel to say the right thing at the right time.

I’ve not always been good with words. Some would say I’m still not. Others would say that’s a gross understatement.

One of my earliest and most shameful memories is the day I waxed eloquent about a friend’s mom. Despite how nice I was trying to be to her, what never crossed my mind—until the next day when her daughters defended her—was how hurtful my words were. I was very young. I still wish I could erase those words.

In college, rather than taking the mature route, I took the lily-livered route in breaking up with a young woman. I was silent when I shouldn’t have been and stupid when I finally spoke. She was furious, and rightfully so. I wasn’t quite a man, yet, and I’ve not stopped wishing I’d been more mature sooner.

The wrong words

In certain situations, no words are better than wrong or weak words.

John MacArthur would have been less than honest if he had remained silent about Beth Moore. He doesn’t believe women should preach, but he could have said something other than “go home.”

Jesus didn’t tell women to “go home,” not that we can read in the Bible. He did tell men to go home after he healed them. He told a man who had been demon-possessed: “Go home to your own people and tell them how much the Lord has done for you, and how he has had mercy on you” (Mark 5:19).

And I don’t think Jesus meant, “Go back where you came from.” The context is clear; Jesus meant the man was the best person to witness to the people near him.

Also wrong are the two words spray-painted on a “spirit rock” in Davidson County, North Carolina several weeks ago. They were covered quickly but shouldn’t have appeared at all.

Were those two words a stupid juvenile prank? Spray painting a call to kill certain people in no way can be defended as a juvenile prank, though it can be described as stupid.

Jesus simplified the Law and the Prophets into two commands we can paraphrase in five words: Love God and love others (Matthew 22:37-40). Those are the right words every time.

The right words

We don’t always have the right words at the right time. We don’t always know what to say and when to say it, but some words are right more often than they are wrong.

Please.
Thank you.
I’m sorry.
I don’t know.
I love you.

These words are some of the first we learn and some of the first we forget. They are simple yet powerful. Though they knit us together, they go against the grain of our culture.

Among people who expect to get what they want when they want it, “please” and “thank you” are considered unnecessary and illogical, an affront and an offense against the self.

Among people who think they are never wrong and that their way is the only right way, “I’m sorry” is weak and shameful.

Among people who can never show weakness and must be fully capable, “I don’t know” is a sickening admission of incompetence.

Among people who are self-absorbed, “I love you” is a fetter to another person, an unthinkable admission that someone outside the self has inestimable value.

Despite flying in the face of our culture, all these words are right more often than they are wrong. We need to speak and live them more often.

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

I suppose I’m like you in at least one way: I get tired of bad news. After a day of it, I just want to get away.

One way I try to get away from bad news is through humor. Hoping for some brevity, I subscribed to Christianity Today’s “Church Humor” weekly email. Yesterday, after seeing a couple of particularly bad news items and finishing most of my weekly “to do” list, I opened the “Church Humor” email, clicked on “Stuff Presbyterian Seminarians Say,” and watched the video.

In this long-ish YouTube video, a Presbyterian seminarian rehearses tropes distinctive to his denomination. He delivers a string of one-liners about topics like Calvin, depravity, praise songs, the Montreat Conference Center—the Glorieta of the PCUSA—and unintelligible Presbyterian acronyms. (Don’t pretend like Baptists don’t have unintelligible acronyms—BGCT, CLC, NAMB, IMB, WMU, TBM and among many others, my personal favorite, CNBAM.)

Though lighthearted, the video didn’t help. Maybe because I’m not Presbyterian.

News you may want to tune out

Here are some news items from the last few days that may send us looking for an escape.

• Beto O’Rourke pledged—if elected—to remove the tax-exempt status of religious institutions that oppose same-sex marriage.

• President Trump ordered American troops out of northeast Syria ahead of a planned military operation by Turkey targeting our Kurdish allies.

• Atatiana Jefferson was shot and killed in her mother’s home by former Fort Worth Police Officer Aaron Dean.

• Former worship leader Jeff Berry was arrested on allegations of a child sex crime.

• Dallas Baptist University was evacuated and classes were canceled after “a bomb and coordinated armed threat” was made to the campus. This less than two weeks after Baylor had a lockdown due to a shooting in a nearby apartment complex and after schools in south Plano were under lockout twice in two weeks due to police activity in their neighborhood.

That Presbyterian video sounds really good right now, doesn’t it?

Responding to this kind of news

Predictable reactions followed the news listed above: outrage, speculation, blaming, threatening, worrying, handwringing, watching Presbyterian videos.

There seems to be only so much bad news we can take. Bad news—by engaging our emotions and endocrine system—literally wears us out. Bad news produces a stress response we want to avoid. We have enough stress without adding bad news to the mix.

When confronted with bad news, we react with fight, flight or freeze. We find these instinctual reactions very difficult to control. We need to acknowledge our tendencies to fight, flight or freeze and differentiate these reactions from responses.

Reacting accomplishes less good than acting. Even though stress wearies us, we must not grow weary in doing good. After our very human reactions to bad news, we need to move beyond outrage, speculation, blaming, threatening, worrying, handwringing and escapist humor. We need to respond.

Meeting bad news one response after another

When bad things happen, we must respond. As followers of Christ, when bad things happen, we must embody Jesus Christ in the midst of bad situations.

We need to practice religious liberty and freedom of conscience available to all persons, whether or not we agree with all persons’ religious convictions and expressions.

We need to demonstrate how it costs us less to defend our allies than it costs us to betray our character. We are not perfect people, which is why we have to work so hard to be noble and honorable.

We need to seek justice in response to injustice, knowing that justice-seeking can be a slow and fallible process. We are not God and don’t see all the facts clearly. Therefore, we need to extend grace and mercy as these have been extended to us, and we need to pursue justice even when the facts are not in our favor.

We need to defend the vulnerable. There doesn’t seem to be a better way to say that. We need to defend the vulnerable. Ah, but that requires us to acknowledge the vulnerable, that they exist and that they indeed are vulnerable—and that not all of us are.

We need to train up our children to respect and cherish the humanity of others. We must honor the humanity of other people and teach our children to do the same. Those who harm or threaten to harm other people do so after learning other people don’t matter so much.

How Jesus met the worst news

In response to our rejection of God—sin—and the death that followed, Jesus didn’t stew or escape in satire. Jesus—as an expression of God’s love and pain—became Immanuel, God with us. Jesus lived our mess and ultimately was killed by it, but not before teaching us with his very life how to respond to bad news with our lives.

The best escape from bad news isn’t sticking our heads in the sand or losing ourselves in entertainment.

The best escape from bad news isn’t lashing out to exact our own vengeance on wrongdoers.

The best escape from bad news is getting involved in turning bad news into good. That’s the redeeming and reconciling work of Jesus Christ.

“Let us not become weary in doing good, for at the proper time we will reap a harvest if we do not give up” (Galatians 6:9).

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

There is a plague among us. It’s a mind-altering and highly contagious disease we are most susceptible to when we are young. It grows unnoticed, frequently for decades. It has a single name and a multitude of expressions.

This plague is called “the other.”

One symptom of infection is thinking that last sentence supports the discrimination, subjugation or terrorization of any “other.”

The sickness isn’t the actual other but is the perceived other. That’s an awfully philosophical sentence.

The disease isn’t the human being standing in front of us, behind us, beside us, above us or below us. The plague is our ideas about the human beings outside us.

How the plague grows

Part of the problem is our ideas about others are based on some seed—however small—of experience. It may be our own experience or the experience of others told to us. Either way, the experience is shaped by our own perception of it, which often is different from how others perceive it.

One person celebrated the forgiveness, the hug and the Bible given to Amber Guyger. Another person condemned the injustice of the sentence; another, the inappropriateness of Judge Kemp’s actions. The same experience is perceived differently along multiple lines. Differing narratives grow from different perceptions of one shared experience.

The seed grows to completely outstrip the original experience and becomes what we call a caricature or stereotype of the other.

The caricature takes on a life of its own. It seems so much more interesting than the truth, and so we settle for relating to the caricature of the other in place of interacting with the real human being. It’s less complicated and feels safer.

The plague feeds on supposed opposites

Consider some of the ways we think we are opposite of each other:

• Ford and Chevrolet
• Windows and Mac
• Cowboys and Redskins or Eagles
• Men and women
• Old and young
• Rural and urban, country and city
• Poor and rich
• Unions and bosses, workers and CEOs
• Democrats and Republicans
• Conservatives and liberals
• Whites and blacks, or any non-white person
• Citizens and immigrants and refugees
• Christians and Muslims
• Gay and straight
• Us and them

The list can go on for days. We have so many ways we separate ourselves from and oppose ourselves to others.

They don’t look like us, act like us, smell like us. They don’t eat like us, love like us, govern like us. We don’t understand them or like them. We’re afraid they will infect us, gain on us and take what is ours.

As long as we deal with a caricature of them, we don’t have to deal with how the real human being is very much like us. Their likeness to us seems to scare us more than their difference from us.

The Christian response to the plague

The Bible’s story tells us we are much more alike in fundamental ways than we are different.

“Let us make mankind in our image, in our likeness … So God created mankind in his own image, in the image of God he created them; male and female he created them” (Genesis 1:26-27).

We can caricature each other all we want, but we can’t take the image of God out of one another. Every single one of us shares this one thing: We all bear God’s image.

“For all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God …” (Romans 3:23).

We can caricature each other all we want, but we can’t alter our appearance so much as to make ourselves look better than any other. Every single one of us shares this one thing: We all bear the stench of sin.

“… and all (who believe) are justified freely by his grace through the redemption that came by Christ Jesus” (Romans 3:22, 24).

We can caricature each other all we want, but we can’t erase the saving work of Jesus Christ. Not a single one of us accomplished his work, and not a single one of us can take it away.

There’s no loophole in the Bible’s story. There’s no dehumanizing the other so that God’s image and Jesus Christ’s redemption don’t apply but sin does. All three together are the fundamental likeness we all share.

Going back to the list of supposed opposites

The word “and” in each dichotomy above—and all other dichotomies—is shorthand for the three fundamentals of the Bible’s story:

1. All humans bear God’s image.
2. All humans bear sin.
3. Jesus justifies and redeems all who believe in him.

To eradicate the plague among us, we need to build our stories about each other, our experiences of each other and our relationships with each other on “and.”

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

Hurtling through the air at hundreds of miles per hour, I looked around at my fellow passengers. There we were—held thousands of feet above the ground, pushing forward in something a bit wider and three times longer than a charter bus—with nowhere to go if things went wrong.

The principles of aerodynamics tell us the shape and size of the wings combined with enough thrust from enough engines cause a plane to lift off the ground and stay aloft. The wings and the engines get all the glory.

What goes unnoticed is what holds the plane together. The wings and engines contribute to the flight, but it’s good fasteners that get us to our intended destinations.

Be the glue in your world. Hold strong in fractious times.

The glue we don’t see

I doubt anyone else on the plane gave any thought to the fasteners holding strong as we fought gravity and intense physical forces. My wife would say I am right. She rolls her eyes and urges, “Don’t,” whenever I say I want to see the airworthiness certificate for the plane we’ve just boarded.

What we tend to think about are the things we see: the wings, cockpit, exits, seats, overhead bins, aisles, tray tables, inflight magazines, lavatories, flight attendants and pilots. All these are part of air travel. They are to flight what schools, neighborhoods, businesses, governments, civic organizations, arts, sports and so many other things are to society. They are necessary, but they don’t hold it together.

What holds our society together is what holds the church together and gives it its mission. The glue we don’t see is the Spirit of Christ living in his followers.

This is a bold assertion because the church hasn’t acted like glue holding things together. Rather, the church has contributed to the fractiousness of our times.

Be the glue in your world. Hold strong in fractious times.

The world needs glue

Consider the headlines over the last several months. Even if you don’t want to, even if you’ve had enough, consider the condition of our world reflected in the headlines.

Politicians are having a difficult time holding things together. Families are struggling to hold things together. Economies are straining to hold things together.

Even the natural world seems to be fraying. The Earth’s climate is off balance. The Earth’s bounty of water and oil is at the center of numerous and growing conflicts. Land is a precious commodity and fodder for war.

Addictions, diseases, racism and distrust are fracturing and eating our families, neighborhoods, communities and country.

The plane we’re all passengers on is hurtling forward, and the acid of fraction is eating away the glue.

Body of Christ, be the glue in your world. Hold strong in fractious times.

Is it ignorance or trust?

During the flight, gregarious businessmen made small talk. Jokes produced laughter like popcorn throughout the cabin.

Some of the passengers are in favor of impeaching President Trump. Some are opposed. No one told me this, but I know it’s true. Despite our mixed opinions about the top news story of the day, we managed to make the trip in peace.

Was it because we simply didn’t talk about it, that we stayed ignorant of our differences? Is it because we assumed we all think alike and didn’t need to talk about it? Is it because you don’t get into a fight about such things when you’re 30,000 feet in the air?

Something held us together, and I wonder if any of us were aware of it. I wonder if any of us acknowledged it. I wonder if any of us gave any thought to our ability to travel together in such close quarters without a fight over what is dividing us on the ground.

Whether the passengers knew it or not, the glue held strong.

Be the glue in your world. Hold strong in fractious times.

Acid of fraction is eating away the glue

Some blame Congress—specifically, the Democrats—for the current impeachment inquiry. Others blame President Trump—his words and actions—for what is happening.

We are not pointing the finger at ourselves, yet we elected—maybe not individually, but corporately—those we blame. Like Isaiah, we are wrapped up in the wrongs of our people.

Impeachment inquiries have taken place four times in 243 years of American history, three times in the last 45 years. Is this because our politicians are more corrupt than they’ve ever been? Are they more given to impeaching one another than they’ve ever been? Is impeachment more acceptable than ever?

In answering these questions, we must remember our politicians come from us. They are us. The fractiousness in our politics is not in Washington, D.C., or 50 state capitals. The fractiousness is in us.

We haven’t given enough attention to the glue that holds us together and have allowed the acid of fraction to eat it away.

We can have the perfect aerodynamics and flying conditions, but if the glue doesn’t hold the plane together …

Be the glue in your world. Hold strong in fractious times.

Christ is the glue

“In him all things hold together. And he is the head of the body, the church” (Colossians 1:17-18).

The body of Christ needs to remember itself. The body of Christ—the church—needs to give renewed attention to its place in the world, which is not power, prominence and prestige. The church’s place is to carry, to proclaim, to live and to give the gospel of Jesus Christ—his life, death and resurrection, his lordship and reconciling work.

In, through and by him, the church is given the ministry of reconciliation and the charge to “go and make disciples of all people, baptizing them in the name of the Father, Son and Holy Spirit, and teaching them to obey everything” he taught (Matthew 28:19-20).

We all are called to enter the fray of these fractious times. We all must face the intense physical forces and fight the gravity of this world being eaten away by the acid of fraction. We must because we have the glue that holds the world together.

Remember your line

The last thing the flight attendant said to us after we landed was, “Be kind to each other.”

And I thought, “Hey, that’s our line!”

Kindness is, after all, a fruit of the Spirit—sandwiched between patience and goodness; joined by faithfulness, gentleness and self-control; following love, joy and peace. Why do we have to be reminded by a flight attendant when it’s the body of Christ’s job?

I’m thankful the things holding the plane together didn’t quit on us and that I made it safely home. May the body of Christ be the glue this world needs, holding strong in fractious times so others will reach their home in Christ.

Be the glue. Hold strong.

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