The Baptist General Convention of Texas will continue to decline unless Texas Baptists resolve one of the great paradoxes: The source of strength often leads to downfall.

The BGCT decline may be irreversible. But for certain, Texas Baptists won’t pull out of our spiral unless we confront our strength-becomes-weakness condition.

Editor Marv KnoxDavid Hardage, the BGCT Executive Board’s executive director, hinted at this during the board’s winter meeting. He quoted a young pastor: “I don’t think you’re (BGCT) obsolete. I’m not sure you’re relevant.” And also an elder statesman: “We’re still doing convention as we have for 100 years,” adding, as if anyone wondered, “That was not a positive statement.”

Texas has changed, and Texas Baptists have changed, Hardage acknowledged. Consequently, the BGCT must change to meet the challenge. So, he will propose reconfiguring the convention, “and it may be pretty radical.”

To which Texas Baptists should respond: “Bring it on.”

I couldn’t help but think of Hardage’s announcement as I read David and Goliath, the latest book by best-selling author Malcolm Gladwell.

David and Goliath

Gladwell illustrates strength reduced to weakness in the ancient battle story. According to conventional military wisdom, a boy shepherd like David never should prevail against a behemoth soldier like Goliath. But Goliath’s outlandish size, poor eyesight, ominous battle attire and overweening pride made him a sitting duck for a fearless, fleet-footed boy who could sling a stone and kill a lion 200 yards away.

“There is an important lesson … for battles with all kinds of giants: The powerful and strong are not always what they seem,” Gladwell writes. “David came running toward Goliath, powered by courage and faith. Goliath was blind to his approach—and then he was down, too big and slow and blurry-eyed to comprehend the way the tables have been turned.”

This is a theme worthy of Bible stories, great novels and even Baptist reorganization plans. A tremendous strength often contains within it the seeds of its own destruction, the DNA of its own demise. The trait, characteristic or ability that leads to greatness also carries or covers an inherent flaw that results in failure.

A patina of invincibility

Vaunted strength provides a patina of invincibility. So while situations, adversaries and even the strength-bearer change, belief in the power and durability of the strength persists. That’s why decline goes unrecognized. It’s why leaders don’t realize their strategies and tactics no longer match their mission and vision or, worse, their mission and vision no longer relate to their reality.

For generations, Texas Baptists reflected a key characteristic of our state’s prevailing culture. “Everything’s bigger and better in Texas,” Texans boasted. Baptists, too. We meant it about our convention, our institutions, our churches and, maybe most importantly, our ideas.

We believed we were the ideal of a Christian convention. With good reason, actually. When I attended seminary out of state more than three decades ago, I sat under a retired Southern Baptist Convention executive who understood the Baptist denomination better than anyone. Period. He spent an entire career working with SBC agencies and state Baptist conventions.

My chest swelled when he said of my home-state brothers and sisters: “The Baptist General Convention of Texas is the gold standard of denominationalism. They have the most creative leaders. They have the biggest vision. They put the greatest amount of resources behind fulfilling that vision. They think they can take on any challenge. And they’re usually correct.”

That was long ago. Since then, the SBC split and the BGCT split. Baptists, particularly pastors, grew weary of strife and—often simultaneously—turned their attention toward meeting needs in their communities and networking beyond the conventions to accomplish missions and ministries.

Dissatisfaction at both ends

The Baby Boomers, maybe America’s most selfish generation, have led churches for a generation. Many churches have become like them—interested in what’s in it for them. This created an interesting overall divide: Strong churches have grown more independent of the convention, because they’ve figured out how to “do church” without assistance and, frankly, have seen the convention lag behind spiritual and cultural trends. Simultaneously, many weak churches have grown more dependent upon the convention and frustrated by its inability to meet their needs. So, dissatisfaction has swelled at both ends of the continuum.

Oh, and then there’s our historic strength. For decades, we stewarded vast resources of money, people and institutions. We became a lot like Goliath—powerful, feared and respected, if not liked; but also slow, lumbering, near-sighted and unduly proud. We believed our own hype, so we couldn’t fathom we weren’t as fast, strong, agile and state-of-the-art as we once were.

The Davids haven’t whacked us with a stone and chopped off our head—in fact, they don’t want to attack us, really—but nimble nonprofits, focused institutions, creative churches and other spiritual entrepreneurs have run circles around us, picking up followers and doing remarkable ministry.

Our executive leader, David Hardage, knows we need to change. He said: “The future—not just of the Texas Baptist convention, but of Texas and of what we need to do for (God’s) kingdom—weighs in the balance. We must adjust our mindset and our hearts to do whatever it takes to impact Texas for the gospel.”

He’s trying to break us out of the malaise of relying on bygone strength, God bless him. He told the Executive Board: “Send me your thoughts. Send me your ideas. Think. Pray. Dream. Let’s put something out there that will be exciting for the future of Texas Baptists.”

Whether you’re on the Executive Board or not, let Hardage know what you think. Click here to send him an email.

How would you identify an “influential” church? 

The question surfaced in an email from a minister of music and administration who serves a congregation in another state. The question caught me off guard, but more about that later.

“Would you mind supplying me with a list of your 20 most influential churches?” the emailer asked. “The criteria I’d suggest using for determining ‘influential’ is what churches have standing so as to make things happen in Texas. This isn’t intended to be a ranking of any kind. … I am not looking for the top 20 in financial gifts, baptisms, Bible study attendance, etc. My hope is to contact the worship leader(s) and … examine specific aspects of worship practices in churches you would consider influential.”

Not so simple

Not so long ago, that would have been an easy question. In an era of homogenous worship and strong denominational bonds, almost anyone active in a state or regional convention could have answered. And no matter how many replied, every regional list probably Editor Marv Knoxwould include 15 churches in common. The hardest part of responding would have been settling on only 20 congregations.

But now? Not so much. How could I provide a list of our “20 most influential churches”?

To prepare, I visited the questioner’s church’s website. It’s an apparently healthy so-called moderate Baptist congregation in a Deep South county-seat college town. Judging by context, I decided he isn’t interested in Texas Baptists’ most influential African-American, Hispanic, intercultural or western-heritage churches. So, I narrowed the parameters to Anglo congregations. The 20 most influential among them? Still hard to say.

I shared the email with friends and visited with others. They weren’t much help. In fact, they validated my initial impression. Drawing up a list of the “20 most influential churches” is—to use a highly sophisticated theological term—hard.

The question suggests ‘another time’

Church life just isn’t Top 20 simple anymore. Or, as one of my friends explained, the question suggests “another time, another subculture, and really doesn’t have the same definitions now.”

To buy time, I replied: “The answer to your question is complicated” and promised to get back to him. Complicated, indeed. Our culture today—churches included—is so fragmented, “influential” is more ineffable and harder to define than ever before.

What’s more, churches that possess historic name recognition as the traditional “leading” or “most influential” congregations don’t necessarily garner much respect anymore. In fact, many of them fell behind the curve of influence precisely because of their former success. Known for conducting a style of worship or producing a program with excellence, they have held on for heaven’s sake. Meanwhile, trends and expectations propel other churches forward.

And especially, when it comes to worship, churches that seek ideas and inspiration rarely consider the historically influential congregations. They certainly don’t restrict their consideration to other churches within their denomination, whether it’s Baptist or anything else.

Nowadays, ideas easily cross boundaries

Most take their cues from other churches within their worship niches, which now are as varied and bountiful as notes on a musical score. They find each other at myriad worship and leadership conferences, the largest and most influential among them completely unaffiliated with any denomination. Beyond that, the Internet—which recognizes no geographic boundaries or denominational affiliations—facilitates widespread observation, idea-sharing and relationship-building.

Ultimately, I sent a list of 17 Texas churches divided into four categories—affiliated with the Baptist General Convention of Texas and influential across the state, affiliated with the BGCT and influential in their geographic regions, affiliated with the competing convention in Texas, and non-Baptist congregations.

How about you? Which congregations influence you and your church? Where do you look for congregational inspiration, ideas and best practices?

The process isn’t as simple as it once was, but the possibilities have expanded exponentially.

Too bad people can’t jump into a year of late middle age—say, 57 or 63—and then go back to high school and live the rest of life in light of the knowledge they gained.

Totally ridiculous, isn’t it? But haven’t you wished you could have taken a sneak peek at adulthood early enough to shape your life?

Editor Marv KnoxThis notion arises with friends from time to time. Usually, it happens over dinner, when someone asks a speculative-but-impossible question. If you knew then what you know now, …

• What would you pick for your college major?

• What career would you choose?

• How many children would you have?

• Where would you live?

• What denomination or religion would you adopt?

• What sport or hobby would you have taken up?

• “Who would you marry?” (OK, I’ve never heard that one. But I can’t

guarantee some haven’t thought it.)

Possibility and opportunity

Of course, we live only in the light of the present moment. One of the great challenges—and blessings—of parenthood is shining a huge light of possibility and opportunity out in front of children. Encouraging them to dream big dreams. Calling them to stretch beyond imagination. But still, even the offspring of parents who amp up those lights someday will say, “If only I’d known then what I know now ….”

Across decades, I’ve attended funerals where friends of the deceased said something like, “If she could live her whole life over again, she would not change a thing.”

For years, I received those words with misty-eyed amazement. How splendid to live a whole life and get it right the first time every time.

Now? I’m not so sure.

Doesn’t add up

While I mean no disrespect for long, happy lives (and don’t discount funeral-parlor hyperbole), “wouldn’t change a thing” just doesn’t seem to add up. If such a statement were true, then the person either (a) never reflected sufficiently on the myriad possibilities of life and/or (b) always played it safe, aiming not to make a mistake. Both options are corollaries.

Life is too huge, varied, wild, fantastic and unpredictable to live all the way through and not ask “What if?” If a person can’t look back through at least a few question marks, then she’s probably not looking ahead with a sense of wonder.

And wonder is essential, whether you’re reflecting on life already lived or speculating about life still ahead.

We may consider missed opportunities, unfulfilled potential and poor choices and still see wonder. Often, that’s when we glimpse God’s grace. The times we messed up, and we felt God’s love in the forgiveness of others. The times we made dreadful decisions but learned valuable lessons. The times we aimed high, missed the mark but still accomplished more than we would have if we never tried. The times we analyzed and agonized over all the data at our disposal, and it wasn’t enough; we got it wrong, but God redeemed the situation anyway.

Grace quenches regret

Wouldn’t change a thing? No way. But God was real, anyway.

And here’s the paradox: We can look back on life, wish we could do some things differently and still feel no regret. Regret is a dry, parched soul. Grace quenches regret. That’s not to say regret doesn’t exist. But when regret is redeemed, it can instruct others and spark passion for what lies ahead in our own lives.

If only I’d known that at 17.

How specific is God’s will?

How should we discern God’s will?

To what degree can a person claim to know God’s will?

A friend and I have been talking and trading emails about divine discernment. Our conversation started when he told me he’s interested in taking another job and moving his family.

Editor Marv KnoxWell, that’s not exactly accurate. He said God has been telling his wife and him they need to be open about making a move. God is the instigator.

It’s a challenge

See? Talking about God’s will is a challenge, because people of faith and goodwill experience it and explain it differently.

For years, my friend has described his divine discernment directly. “God told me … ,” he’s said.

I wish I could share his clarity. A few times, I’ve even tried. “God told me … ,” I’d declare. But I never could proclaim it with conviction.

For one thing, when I claimed to know God’s will, it always neatly coincided with my own self-interest. That’s often how it seems when other people say it, too. And they play it like a trump card. How are you going to argue when God Almighty weighs in? “God told me …” would sound more credible if the speaker divined divine will counter to his or her own good.

I don’t trust myself

For another, I don’t trust myself. I get so many other things wrong; why should anyone trust me to be an infallible conduit of sanctified will?

So, while I pray for God’s guidance practically every day, I’m not mystical about God’s will. Frankly, I’m not sure I’ve ever absolutely discerned God’s will about anything up for grabs.

I know it’s absolutely God’s will to love the Lord with all my heart, soul, mind and strength; to love others as myself; to love my family unconditionally; to love the church; to serve “the least”; to do my best not to commit sins of commission (hard) and omission (even harder); and to work faithfully at my vocation.

Beyond that, everything seems ephemeral. For example, God’s “calling” to one place or one job seems ambiguous. God blesses us with gifts and passion and commitment. We may invest those in multiple places, and God gives us leeway in the particulars. God also gives us interests and desires. Our challenge is to be pure, honest and transparent with them. That’s part of the discerning process: God has given me X gifts, which can be invested in Y place/job. If I follow up, that will serve Y well and fill me with joy. But maybe I really want work at Z. It might reasonably take the place of Y. And God would say, “Well done” to either choice.

Comfortable with ambiguity

Ironically—and I didn’t see this coming—God gets more confusing as I grow older. But paradoxically, I’m more comfortable with God’s ambiguity now than I was with what I expected to be God’s certainty back then.

I’ve learned from the countless times I worked hard to discern God clearly. The outcomes often made me wonder. Either (a) I misunderstood God, (b) God didn’t fulfill the promises that seemed inherent in God’s “answer” or (c) God’s just not that concerned with all the details.

So, maybe the Christian’s challenge is not to find and declaim God’s solitary will, but to focus on the task at hand, realizing God is a God of options. When it comes to specifics—take this job or that job; live here or there; marry this person or that person; have two children or three—God’s will is free and open.

As long as we live faithfully and place God and others ahead of ourselves, God will be fine with our answers. At least that’s what experience has taught me.

God is big

My friend received my long arguments and responded briefly, yet eloquently: “Well, I’m more mystical in my approach to God’s will, but that is me. Your approach is you. I don’t think either is wrong. God is way too big to have to work with all of us the same way.”

He’s got a great point. There is a wideness in God’s mercy. Each of us approaches God personally, and we communicate with God—and God communicates with us—in ways we understand.

But sometimes, that means we have a hard time understanding each other.

The blogosphere, Facebook, Twitter and, no doubt, millions of email accounts just about melted down lately, thanks to a Coca-Cola commercial. Maybe America needs to hold a can of Coke up to its collective face and chill out.

It’s beautiful

If you stayed awake through the Super Bowl, you probably saw “It’s Beautiful,” a 60-second advertisement for Coca-Cola. Editor Marv KnoxThe spot showcased a series of voices singing “America, the Beautiful” over a montage of scenes featuring a palette of races and ethnicities. Unless you’ve been a translator at the United Nations, you probably couldn’t pinpoint them all, but singers intoned the iconic love song to America in at least nine languages—English, then Spanish, Tagalog, Hindi, Senegalese-French, Hebrew, Mandarin, Keres and Arabic.

My family and close friends know I’m sentimental. They wouldn’t be surprised to learn the commercial moved me to reverie. The voices and images illustrated the true beauty of our nation of immigrants. Yes, we occupy a vast swath of a bountiful and gorgeous continent. This land, our land, stuns and beguiles. Yet America’s beauty extends further and sinks deeper than its horizons.

It’s beautiful because people from all over the planet comprise our citizenry. Our mixture of races and perspectives has made us versatile, optimistic, strong and resilient. With few exceptions, we’re here because our ancestors chose to be here and we choose to remain.

True Americans speak English?

Paradoxically, the commercial celebrating America’s beautiful diversity ignited the Super Bowl’s hottest controversy. Within minutes—and certainly by the next morning—legions of citizens berated Coca-Cola for daring to interpret “America, the Beautiful” in any language other than English. Unfortunately, many of the responses can’t be printed on a family news site. And tweeters who wrote most of the Twitter hashtags about the commercial should wash their keypads with soap.

The consensus of criticism followed this line: This is America. True Americans speak English. How dare Coca-Cola create a commercial that features one of the country’s most historic and popular songs sung in anything other than English? Yes, everybody should love America. But if you truly love America, you’ll learn to speak English.

The funniest/saddest/just-plain-weirdest comments condemned Coca-Cola for desecrating the “national anthem” by singing it in other languages. If you’re so ignorant you think “America, the Beautiful,” and not “The Star-Spangled Banner,” is our national anthem, you really shouldn’t criticize anybody else for loving this nation. No matter what language they speak—or sing.

Christian critics

This would be bad enough if only out-and-out secularists and non-theists took part in bashing Coca-Cola for this commercial. You don’t expect them to possess moral compasses. So, you shouldn’t be surprised when they spout xenophobic rhetoric.

Sadly, however, many Coke critics claim to be Christian. Some of them are (gasp) Baptists. They should know better. Several reasons come readily to mind:

• As Bible-believers, we’re commanded to practice hospitality. Both the Old and New Testaments command God’s followers to welcome the stranger, include the marginalized and embrace the “least” among society.

How can people who claim to possess the love of Jesus espouse hatred and anger toward God’s creatures? Jesus died for them, just like he died for everybody. If they are unbelievers, then such vitriol drives them further from Jesus. That’s anti-evangelism. And if they do believe, then Christians are castigating Christians, which surely grieves Jesus, even as it violates God’s design.

• If we’re true to our heritage, we identify with the wanderers, dispossessed and unsettled. Our earliest spiritual forebears, the Children of Israel, wandered homeless for 40 years. Protestant Puritans crossed the Atlantic to land on these shores, seeking relief from persecution as well as liberty to practice their faith. And our direct Baptist ancestors suffered grievous persecution until the First Amendment guaranteed religious liberty.

How dare we criticize and condemn immigrants and relative newcomers whose current wandering mirrors our historic journeys? Their story is ours, expressed in a different era.

• Of all nine languages that articulated “America, the Beautiful,” only one is truly American. And it isn’t English. Yes, Keres is the native American tongue in the mix—the language of the Pueblo Indians from New Mexico. All the other eight languages are imports. Including English.

This should remind us almost all of us are immigrants. Except for those rare 100 percent Native Americans, all of us came from somewhere else. Our nation is strong because we arrived and imported our virtues and passion and perspective and will. And we came to love this land. Together.

Yes, a national discussion about language is valid and valuable. Our society would be stronger if we all could speak and understand English. But it would be exponentially weaker if—as jingoistic protesters often imply—our neighbors whose heart language is not English denigrated or lost that language.

Speech is the most reliable conduit of culture. We benefit from shared language and perspective. But we should resist English-language hegemony that amputates other cultures and cleaves families.

• We should learn from history. Often, we hear the loud proclamations of a one-language, one-culture nation. Do you recall who wanted to create a completely homogenous society? The pariah of the 20th century—Nazi Germany.

America is beautiful

America is beautiful because she stands for freedom. People who profess their love of freedom should affirm the freedom of all people. Especially those who sing about their love for America in the languages that stir their hearts.

Texas is the buckle of the Bible Belt, right? Heaven help us; we’re more like a belt loop.

Chattanooga, Tenn., is the most “Bible-minded” American city, according to a survey conducted by the American Bible Society and the Barna Group, and reported by Time magazine.

Editor Marv Knox“Bible-mindedness” reflects how often respondents claim to read the Bible and how accurate they say they think the Bible is, Time explained. “Respondents who report reading the Bible within the past seven days and who agree strongly in the accuracy of the Bible are classified as ‘Bible-minded.’”

For two years running, the Bible Belt buckle snugs down squarely over western Tennessee. This year, in Chattanooga, 51 percent of respondents said they have read the Bible in the past week and believe it’s accurate. Last year’s top city for Bible reading and believing was Knoxville, which fell to 10th this year.

Tennessee and North Carolina tied with two cities each in the top 10.

All Texas’ tall, tall steeples aside, the Lone Star State didn’t even crack the top 20. The Dallas-Fort Worth Metroplex ranked 22nd, and 39 percent of respondents said they believe the Bible is accurate and have read it within the week.

Texas city rankings

Other Texas communities in the survey—along with their national rank and the percentage of people who read and believe the Bible—are:

• San Antonio, 34th/34 percent.

• Houston, 41st/31.

• Waco/Temple/Bryan, 43rd/31.

• Harlingen/Weslaco/McAllen/Brownsville, 46th/30.

• Austin, 48th/29.

• El Paso (with Las Cruces, N.M.), 62nd/26.

In addition to Chattanooga, the top five Bible-minded communities are Birmingham/Anniston/Tuscaloosa, Ala.; Roanoke/Lynchburg, Va.; Springfield, Mo.; and Shreveport, La.

The least Bible-minded cities

The least-Bible-oriented community is Providence, R.I./New Bedford, Mass. Others in the bottom five are Albany/Schenectady/Troy, N.Y.; Boston, Mass./Manchester, N.H.; San Francisco/Oakland/San Jose, Calif.; and Cedar Rapids/Waterloo, Iowa.

OK, so what?

The old adage really is true: Your life is the only Bible some people ever will read. Many small towns may be more Bible-friendly than the cities. Still, the survey shows few people read and/or believe the Bible.

In Texas, the best you can expect is four in 10 of your neighbors are oriented toward the Bible. And if you reasonably figure most of your church friends actually do read and believe the Bible, then the odds for everyone else actually are worse.

Comments posted at the end of the Time article dismally illustrate this point. On and on, readers deride Bible-believers. Dispiritingly often, their opinions of the Bible seem to be based on the actions of people who say they believe the Bible, not upon Scripture itself. For example:

• “All the top ‘Bible-minded’ cities are in bigoted, racist, intolerant Red States that have more in common with Satan than they do Jesus Christ.”

• “There are some significant fornicators and thieves amongst Bible thumpers.”

• “Being a ‘Christian’ here—or simply professing to be—gives you a pass, opens the right doors and includes you in the chosen ones, cult-like. So, of course, there is an awful lot to of obfuscating, lying and tweaking of the truth. Pretty pathetic and sad, really.”

• “Ironic that the ‘least’ Bible-minded cities do a better job of taking care of the poor and vulnerable than the ‘most’ Bible-minded.”

‘Bible-minded’ means ‘self-righteous’ to many

Hard as such comments are to read, we know where people get those ideas. They’ve met self-professed Christians who substitute self-righteousness for self-reflection. They know churchgoers who prefer judgment to mercy and vindictiveness to compassion. They see people who speak love and live hate, who preach discipline and practice greed and gluttony, who speak humility and wear hubris.

Of course, we know all people—including Christians—are sinners. We know we’re weak and vulnerable and prone to fail. We know all these shortcomings do not reflect gospel truth.

But we shouldn’t be surprised when others do not know that. All they know is what they see.

If we want more people to believe the Bible and, more importantly, follow Jesus, then it’s up to us to live out our beliefs and practice our faith in acts of kindness and compassion.

We’re the only Bibles many others read. Will they find and fall in love with Jesus because of what they see in us?

“This book unlocks the secret code of the Scriptures.”

If I had a nickel for every news release I’ve received promising to unlock the Bible’s “secret code,” I could buy a slew of books I’d actually like to read.

Editor Marv KnoxIf you have gumption and gall, you can make money selling secrets to unlock divine deadbolts. Pitch this book idea: “This spiritual secret will turn God Almighty into your personal genie. (You’ll get free wishes for eternity!)”

Years ago, a friend insisted people love wacky religion. He said we could spend a weekend brainstorming religious ridiculousness. We’d come up with a mysterious message so intriguing we could launch our own church, collect a fantastic following and (of course) acquire fame and fortune. Fortunately, we chickened out.

Years later, I stumbled upon a simple situation that tested his hypothesis.

Remember Y2K? Leading up to the year 2000, twitchiness and goofiness abounded. Folks worried all hell would break loose on 01/01/2000.

Lessons on the Apocalypse

Our church’s Bible study material capitalized on the mayhem. The lesson series that began Sunday, Jan. 2, 2000, focused on apocalyptic literature, the so-called “End Times” passages from books like Daniel and Revelation. You would’ve thought all Christians made a millennial resolution to go to Sunday school. We hauled in chairs, and folks sat so close men blushed and women scrunched up against their husbands.

Silly me. “You’re here because we’re going to study some of the Bible’s most intriguing chapters,” I told them. “For millennia, Jews and then Christians have pored over these passages, seeking divine secrets about the end of the world. Well, the Holy Spirit inspired the authors to write clear messages for the first people who received them. Through the ages, the Spirit preserved those words, infusing them with meaning for each generation. And they still provide insight. But the notion they endured thousands of years and only possess social and political meaning for the year 2000 is arrogance of biblical proportions.”

Those words launched a Sunday school ensmallment campaign. The next week, 30 percent of the class returned. If I’d been clever like authors who promise to unlock the Bible’s secret code, they would’ve come back for more. “And next week,” I could’ve promised, “I’ll reveal the ‘mark of the beast’ and identify the ‘whore of Babylon.’” Our discipleship pastor would’ve had to move me to a bigger room.

Of course, the Bible contains mystery and intrigue. Some parts are downright confounding. And can I get a witness to the fact some passages are subject to interpretation, which has spawned myriad denominations?

But here’s the deal: The Bible is perfectly clear on what really matters. At least, we can be absolutely certain about where we stand before God and how we should live. You can think of examples. These verses sustain and guide me:

Divine standing …

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

• “For the wages of sin is death, but the gift of God is eternal life in Christ Jesus our Lord” (Romans 6:23).

• “But God demonstrates his own love for us in this: While we were still sinners, Christ died for us” (Romans 5:8).

• “If you declare with your mouth, ‘Jesus is Lord,’ and believe in your heart that God raised him from the dead, you will be saved” (Romans 10:9).

• “Everyone who calls on the name of the Lord will be saved” (Romans 10:13).

• “Therefore, since we have been justified through faith, we have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ” (Romans 5:1).

• “There is now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus” (Romans 8:1).

• “For I am convinced that neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither the present nor the future, nor any powers, neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord” (Romans 8:38-39).

Faithful living …

• “He has shown you, O mortal, what is good. And what does the Lord require of you? To act justly and to love mercy and to walk humbly with your God” (Micah 6:8).

• “‘Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind.’ This is the first and greatest commandment. And the second is like it: ‘Love your neighbor as yourself’” (Matthew 22:37-39).

• “Go and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, and teaching them to obey everything I have commanded you. And surely I am with you always, to the very end of the age” (Matthew 28:19-20).

• “‘I was hungry and you gave me something to eat, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink, I was a stranger and you invited me in, I needed clothes and you clothed me, I was sick and you looked after me, I was in prison and you came to visit me’” (Matthew 25:35-36).

• “The Spirit of the Lord is on me, because he has anointed me to proclaim good news to the poor. He has sent me to proclaim freedom for the prisoners and recovery of sight for the blind, to set the oppressed free, to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor” (Luke 4:18-19).

• “Rejoice in the Lord always. I will say it again: Rejoice! Let your gentleness be evident to all. The Lord is near. Do not be anxious about anything, but in every situation, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus” (Philippians 4:4-7).

• “And now these three remain—faith, hope and love. But the greatest of these is love” (1 Corinthians 13:13).

“Will big data make free will irrelevant?” the headline asked. Of course, I was intrigued. We’ll leave it to the philosophers and theologians to debate whether genetics, God’s sovereignty, fate, life experiences or random brain activity piqued my interest.

Editor Marv KnoxActually, we won’t leave it to the philosophers and theologians. Let’s tackle it ourselves—in just a moment.

The headline appeared above a fascinating article in bigthink.com,  a website that bills itself as “blogs, articles and videos from the world’s top thinkers and leaders.” The site is oriented toward science and features many more atheists and agnostics than evangelical Christians. I read bigthink.com because it (a) takes important issues seriously and (b) pushes me beyond my comfort zone to consider ideas from people whose worldviews differ significantly from my own.

The article captured my concentration because consideration of free will is one of the most important endeavors in human history. Free will is a central theme in the stories of Creation and the Fall in the first chapters of the first book of the Bible, Genesis. Within the Judeo-Christian heritage, the privileges and perils of free will have dominated serious discussions for millennia. For the past 500 years, the debate over God’s sovereignty vs. human will has drawn a line that divided Protestant Christians.

So, free will is a big deal.

A serious question

Although the headline might sound flippant, “Will big data make free will irrelevant?” poses a serious question for the postmodern, digital world. “Big data” is a term for huge “data sets so large and complex that it becomes difficult to process using on-hand database management tools or traditional data processing applications.” Advances in computer technology, however, are creating machines and algorithms capable of processing, ordering and translating such information.

Here’s an over-simplified illustration, which considers a much smaller information set but makes the point: When you shop through a sophisticated online store, such as Amazon, it keeps track of every item you check, every selection you place in your shopping cart, every thing you buy. Based on all that information, it suggests other items you might like to buy. Its accuracy can be haunting.

Department of Precrime?

The article on big data and free will speculates about the ethical implications of using the big data collected on individuals to prevent crime. It cites Kenneth Cukier, data editor of The Economist, regarding what should be done if big data indicates someone is quite likely to commit a crime. “If I could tell with a 98 percent statistical accuracy that you are likely to shoplift in the next 12 months, public safety requires that I interact,” he insisted.

The preferred response would not be punishment for a crime not committed, but rather “a social worker arriving to offer services. ‘We’d like to help you,’” Cukier explained.

Of course, mining such data raises red flags about government and/or corporate invasion of privacy: Should law enforcement target someone as a “highly likely” criminal before a crime is committed? A similar dilemma involves analysis of individuals’ genetic structure: Would it be used positively to prevent illnesses or negatively to deny insurance coverage?

We’re free moral agents

Those debates aside, the original question remains intriguing: “Will big data make free will irrelevant?” Suppose we could know enough about our genetics, choices, activities, education, acquaintances and other variables to predict “with a 98 percent statistical accuracy” our actions. Does that mean we have lost free will?

No. The Bible—from the Genesis accounts of humanity’s beginnings through the teachings of Jesus and the writings of the Apostle Paul—indicates we were created as free moral agents. If we were not free, we could not reciprocate God’s love and, biblically speaking, our purpose would be pointless. We were made for freedom. Exercising freedom expresses God’s loving and permissive will—not simply as individuals but, collectively, as humanity.

Genetic coding and other big data may help account for our choices. They even make many poor and sinful choices understandable. But those choices remain ours.

We must remain free and responsible, or else we deny our creation in God’s image.

Sunday school offers a bounty of blessings. One of the best is this: We learn from each other.

This happened in our class the other Sunday. The lesson focused on God’s generosity, and we looked at a slew of Scriptures and considered a passel of possibilities. Eventually, we discussed the Incarnation, how God took on the vulnerabilities and limitations of human flesh to live among us and expressed divine love to us.

Editor Marv KnoxThe key passage for this concept was Philippians 2:5-8, where the Apostle Paul describes “Christ Jesus, who, though he was in the form of God, did not regard equality with God as something to be exploited, but emptied himself, taking the form of a slave, being born in human likeness. …”

The incarnation

In the Incarnation, God poured God’s own self into a human body. In Jesus, God lived among us and understood—from our perspective—pain, fatigue, joy, humor, hunger, loneliness, limitation, affection, love, rejection, temptation and wonder.

The Incarnation poses all kinds of questions, two of which are: Why was Jesus’ humanity important? And why did God have to/choose to take on human frailty and finitude?

From over by the door, a class member spoke up. “For me, one important reason God became flesh was empathy,” she said. “Of course, God is sympathetic. But because of the Incarnation, we know God knows exactly what it’s like to be human. Sympathy is fine, but empathy is far better.”

That sister offered strong spiritual food, and I’ve been digesting it ever since. One thought keeps recurring: We’re more like God—we more fully reflect God’s generous love—when we empathize rather than sympathize.

Sympathy vs. empathy

Of course, sympathy is fine and noble. Being sympathetic means we “care about and are sorry about someone else’s trouble, grief, misfortune, etc.” Sympathy motivates us to perform acts of kindness and mercy. Sympathy propels us to do good deeds. The world is a better place because of sympathy.

But sympathy is a frail cousin to empathy. Through empathy, we actually “understand and share another person’s experiences and emotions.” We imagine what it’s like to be them, to feel their grief and pain and aspirations. If we’re empathetic, we will perform acts of mercy and kindness. But we’re also more inclined to do something about the causes of their suffering.

Sympathy seeks to alleviate the symptoms of suffering; empathy strives to eliminate the causes of suffering. Sympathy seeks relief; empathy strives for justice. Sympathy requests consolation; empathy demands righteousness.

The Incarnation pronounces judgment on American Christianity. We’re pretty good at conjuring up sympathy, but far too often, we’re tone deaf at empathy. We feel good when we’re sympathetic, and we do some good, too. But in an increasingly divided society—liberal and conservative, rich and poor, red and blue, have and have-not—sympathy may be a major factor in preventing us from actually living as Jesus would live if he were with us physically.

Conversely, empathy could change the balance of the culture wars. Through their identification with others, empathetic Christians are winsome, welcoming ambassadors for Jesus and bridge-builders to unbelievers trapped on islands of misunderstanding.

Sympathy without empathy is dangerous

Sympathy without empathy is dangerous for at least two reasons. First, sympathy can inoculate us from commitment to change the causes of pain and suffering. We do good deeds, and we feel we’ve done our part. So, we don’t think we need to do more, and situations worsen. Second, when sympathy wears away, good-but-tired people often despise those they sympathized.

If we take the name Christian, we claim to be “little Christs,” expressing the living, breathing will of Jesus here on Earth. If we embrace the Incarnation, then we identify with the suffering and weakness of folks Jesus called “the least of these.” In knowing their pain, we transcend sympathy and empathize. Then we seek not only mercy, but justice.

What would you do if you knew exactly how many days you had to live? How would you feel?

Those questions surfaced during a radio program I heard while driving to work on the last day of last year. A reporter narrated a story about a new watch that tells a different sort of time.

“How long until you die?” the reporter asked Frederik Colting, inventor of Tikker.

Editor Marv KnoxNow, that’s a cheery question to consider as the clock closes the door on an old year.

To be fair, Colting doesn’t pretend to know how long he or anybody will live. Tikker, “a sleek black wristwatch,” calculates a longevity algorithm similar to one established by the U.S. government to estimate life expectancy based on a person’s gender and age.

Morbid, right?

That’s not how Colting sees it. A former gravedigger, he wanted to create a device to offer perspective on life. He figured a watch that counts down his moments would help him focus on what really matters and appreciate his life as it ticks away. He thrives on that idea and even calls Tikker “the happiness watch.”

Of course, not everybody tells time that way. The reporter recruited a couple to wear Tikkers and watch what happens. In the morning, every petty delay annoyed the wife, while the husband saw even humdrum moments as special. But later, their roles reversed. By the end of the day, the score was Ticker 1, Blissful Ignorance 1.

A toss-up

Even the science behind a mortality countdown is a toss-up. Research reveals that thinking about death helps some people savor life and causes others to be more generous. But the field of psychology known as terror management theory indicates many people who consider death become more xenophobic, or hostile to people who are different.

Tikker is scheduled to go on the market in April, but I won’t be lining up to buy one. That’s not because I don’t need a reminder to relish life or to be more benevolent. It’s also not because I’m afraid I’ll develop a pathological dislike for tall, handsome athletes who also sing well.

My problem with Tikker is it offers a false sense of time. Sure, on the one hand, my life expectancy might be another 25.7 or even 28.9 years. But I might die next week. When I think about it, I shouldn’t require a winding-down wristwatch to remind me to find delight in and appreciate every moment. And I shouldn’t count on any moments beyond the present.

The Bible brims with stories about people who took life, not to mention the Creator of life, for granted. The parable of the rich farmer comes to mind.

One of the blessings of getting older—and, believe me, I didn’t see this coming—is the ability to appreciate life better and more fully. Maybe it’s because young people think they have so much to prove and so much to achieve that everything has to be a big deal. And so life inevitably feels more disappointing and less rewarding than expected.

Years provide perspective

Years provide perspective. Sure, the special moments and big events are spectacular. But the normal time of regular days, the give-and-take of long friendships, the delights and trials of a strong marriage, the thrill and heartache of parenting, the delight of feasting and grind of dieting—all the stuff of life—cultivate the fertile field where joy, gladness and fulfillment blossom and grow.

Maybe a ticking-down wristwatch would help me appreciate 2014. But I’m guessing the smile of my sweet wife, the voices of family on the phone, shared meals with friends, winter frost and summer heat, enchiladas on a plate, favorite tunes in my earbuds, and silence in church on Sunday morning will be reminders enough.

Happy New Year.

At church, our adult Bible study class has been examining the Gospel of John, guided by the BaptistWay Press  lessons for the fall quarter. Along the way, we got behind. We couldn’t complete the series by the end of November, as planned. So, during Advent, we’ve fallen out of sync with the rest of Christendom.

Christians all over the globe have prepared for the birth of the Baby Jesus. We’ve contemplated the trial, passion, death and resurrection of Jesus, the Christ.

Editor Marv KnoxOf course, preparation for Christmas has moved steadily forward 167 hours a week. But we’ve spent one hour each Sunday morning viewing the Incarnation through the prism of Jesus’ crucifixion and resurrection.

Instead of studying about ancient prophecies from Isaiah, we’ve been looking at false charges trumped up by the high priest and his cohorts. Instead of the joy of Mary and Elizabeth, we’ve considered the agony of Mary, her sister and friends as they watched her firstborn son suffer and die on a Roman cross. Instead of an angelic chorus, shepherds and wise men, we’ve pondered victory over death, outlandishly shocking joy and eternal life.

And while I can’t speak for the rest of our class, I’ll testify: This has been the most moving and challenging Advent season I can remember.

Why God entered human flesh

Our Sunday lessons have reminded us why God entered human flesh, took on the vulnerability of a baby and descended to Earth to live and move among us. He didn’t come down here so we could coo and purr over a cute little baby. He didn’t arrive to fill us with warm-fuzzy feelings. He didn’t drop in so we’d take a few days off from work and spend time with our families. He didn’t appear to appeal to our misty feelings of love and goodness. And he certainly didn’t invest himself in humanity to provide an excuse to buy gifts and make merry.

That’s not to say all those things are bad and should be dropped from our Christmas celebrations. Life is hard and harsh, and the sweetness of Christmas softens our hearts. We need to slow down and pay attention to the people closest to us. We need to find a place in our hearts for love and care for others. And expressions of generosity lift spirits—others’ and our own.

Keep the epilogue in mind

But too often, I’m afraid, we trap Jesus in a nine-pound, 21-inch box. We make such a big deal of the Little Lord Jesus, we fail to identify God’s Son, the Messiah. And if we can’t keep the story straight and the epilogue in mind, how can we expect the world to get it right?

This time of year, many Christians fret over the “culture wars” and worry atheists and humanists have declared a “war on Christmas.” Yes, it is true some people feel only hostility toward Christianity and despise Christians. But across America and particularly throughout Texas, they’re not numerous enough to present a legitimate threat to our liberty, much less our faith.

Ironically, we’ve aided and abetted their antipathy by failing to present them with a cogent, clear depiction of the Christ. And maybe our failure begins when we make so much of Christmas without including Easter at the same time.

The Baby was dangerous

Of course, the angels proclaimed peace, goodwill and glad tidings of great joy. But that Baby they celebrated was dangerous. He arrived to upset the status quo. I’m sure the shepherds thought he looked sweet, as most babies do. But for Jesus, infancy provided the portal for eternal change. He didn’t come down to gurgle and grin, but “to proclaim good news to the poor … freedom for the prisoners and recovery of sight for the blind, to set the oppressed free, to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor.”

He came to bring the kingdom of heaven down to earth. He came to change everything.

This week, we’ll sing “O Little Town of Bethlehem” and “Hark, the Herald Angels Sing” and “Silent Night,” but let us remember “up from the grave he arose.”

Homeowners at Glorieta Conference Center deserve the first item on their Christmas wish list—their day in court.

Last summer, LifeWay Christian Resources, the Southern Baptist Convention’s publishing house, announced it planned to sell Glorieta. The camp, located near Santa Fe, N.M., had been operated by the SBC through LifeWay and its predecessor, the Sunday School Board, since 1952.

Editor Marv KnoxIn the fall of 2011, LifeWay reported it was considering selling Glorieta and scaled back operations at the camp. LifeWay said the camp failed to operate in the black 24 of the previous 25 years.

LifeWay tried to sell Glorieta at least four times. The Baptist Convention of New Mexico considered LifeWay’s offer to sell the camp for $1 but backed away since it could not afford deferred maintenance and other costs. About the same time the New Mexico convention received its offer, the Baptist General Convention of Texas also got a $1 proposal from LifeWay, but it declined to act.

After New Mexico Baptists decided not to buy Glorieta, LifeWay considered selling to California-based Olivet University International. But LifeWay rescinded its offer when the university apparently fared poorly in a theological study conducted by the National Association of Evangelicals.

Sold to Camp Eagle

Finally, last summer, LifeWay agreed to sell the camp to Glorieta 2.0, a corporation that owns Camp Eagle, a Christian facility located near Rocksprings in the Texas Hill Country.

The deal quickly turned controversial. The Glorieta property includes a number of cabins and lodges. Individuals, churches and other groups, including the BGCT, have owned the buildings. But LifeWay retained ownership of the property, which it has leased to the cabin-owners.

Glorieta 2.0 presented the cabin-owners with three options—a $40,000 buyout, later increased to range from $40,000 to $100,000; a final 12-year lease, after which cabin-owners would ether remove their buildings or give them to Glorieta 2.0; and an invitation to charitably donate the buildings to Glorieta 2.0.

This fall, cabin-owners Kirk and Susie Tompkins of Little Rock, Ark., sued LifeWay and others, accusing the publisher of fraud. An amended version of the suit seeks $12 million for the leaseholders/cabin-owners in general and $400,000 for the Tompkinses.

Suit: LifeWay not the owner

The suit claims the 1950 Glorieta property deed specifies the SBC Executive Committee is the owner, and the property never was transferred to LifeWay. Therefore, LifeWay did not have authority to sell the property. It also states as recently as 2011, LifeWay urged prospective buyers to purchase cabins and led them to believe the SBC would own Glorieta another 50 years.

Late last month, a federal judge agreed with the plaintiffs’ suggestion to remove the SBC Executive Committee and most LifeWay trustees and employees from the lawsuit. The judge recessed the case pending the defendants’ claim the court lacks standing to settle the dispute, since the First Amendment guarantees religious freedom.

This entire affair should create ambivalence in anyone who studies it carefully.

The leaseholders/cabin-owners generate sympathy. Some individuals and families have owned their Glorieta cabins for decades, even back to the foundation of the camp. It’s hard to imagine retired ministers and missionaries losing the primary investment of their lifetimes—their homes—with a return of only cents on the dollar.

Recent buyers should have known

The sympathy dissipates for leaseholders/cabin-owners who came along more recently. Anyone who signed a lease with the Sunday School Board/LifeWay after the late 1980s had to ignore all that happened within the SBC during the “Baptist battles” of the late 20th century.

And cabin-owners leased in the last few years had to turn a blind eye to the property all around them. Alongside falling participation at Glorieta’s famous weeklong camps, corporate-owned buildings across the campus lapsed into disrepair. Glorieta-owned vehicles ran on bald tires. Anyone who looked around could see dilapidation. No matter what LifeWay officials may have said about the future, prospective leaseholders’ eyes should have told them the truth.

On top of all this, of course, these people bought cabins knowing they never would own the property where they sat. Such a future never could be certain.

Sympathy for longtime cabin owners

Still, the individuals who bought cabins at Glorieta—particularly those who chose to live in them full time in retirement—are sympathetic. Most likely, many if not most of them chose Glorieta because their lives changed in that place. They bought because they believed in the mission and vision of what Glorieta stood for across six decades. They bought because they love and trusted the Southern Baptist Convention.

Would it have been too much for LifeWay to have sold all the corporate buildings and common land for $1 but required Glorieta 2.0 to pay the cabin-owners fair property value or provide a one-time lease renewal to the owners and their families for 50 years? No.

That would have been honorable and decent. It would have “taken care of” the elderly retired ministers and missionaries and given their families time to plan for their futures. And it would have provided a fair business proposition for the stakeholders of Glorieta 2.0. Even at that, Glorieta 2.0 would have received one of the most scenic religious camps in the world for a reasonable price.

Practicing hypocrisy

But now, beyond pushing the cabin-owners into an awful position, LifeWay is practicing hypocrisy—and, daresay, blasphemy.

LifeWay’s and the SBC Executive Committee’s attorneys claim the courts have no right to rule in this case. They cite a 2012 Supreme Court case, Hosanna-Tabor Evangelical Church & School v. EEOC, that bars the government from interfering “with an internal church decision that affects the faith and mission of the church itself.”

The attorneys also argued: “In addition, civil courts are incompetent to pronounce on matters involving the proper interpretation of religious doctrine, such as whether LifeWay’s decision to sell the Glorieta Conference Center was in accord with LifeWay’s religious beliefs.”

Yes, Glorieta is one of Baptists’ most sacred sites. Many thousands of campers who experienced the Spirit of God there call it holy ground.

Cheapening religious protection

But LifeWay’s sale of Glorieta has nothing to do with how LifeWay plans and conducts church camps and spiritual retreats. It is part of LifeWay’s attempt to get out of Christian camping in the Southwest. It is a business decision, pure and simple.

LifeWay’s and the Executive Committee’s argument the courts cannot intervene skews and diminishes the First Amendment. Ultimately, by cheapening religious protection, it undermines religious liberty.