For a few days this month, Texas Baptists experienced something like a modern-day Pentecost.

You remember what happened at Pentecost: About a week after Jesus ascended to heaven, his followers gathered in a house in Jerusalem, where “all of them were filled with the Holy Spirit and began to speak in other tongues as the Spirit enabled them” (Acts 2:4).

IEditor Marv Knoxn mid-July, more than 4,000 Texas Baptists converged on the Henry B. Gonzalez Convention Center in downtown San Antonio, about three blocks from the Alamo. Once again, the Holy Spirit showed up, and Texas Baptists spoke in “other tongues.”

No it wasn’t that kind of meeting. Texas Baptists aren’t about to embrace glossolalia (“speaking in tongues”) that drummed up controversy and divided congregations a few decades ago.

But the Texas Baptist Family Gathering represented a first-of-a-kind annual meeting. It created quite a confluence of cultures and languages—a microcosm of the diversity that increasingly shapes the tone and texture of our state.

The Baptist General Convention of Texas moved its annual meeting from the fall to midsummer to convene in concert with three of its affinity groups that usually meet this time of year—the African-American Fellowship of Texas, Bivocational/Small Church Association and Hispanic Baptist Convention of Texas. Other Texas Baptist affinity groups joined in—the Chinese Baptist Fellowship of Texas, Lao Baptist Fellowship of Texas, Texas Fellowship of Cowboy Churches and Vietnamese Baptist Fellowship of Texas.

A klatch of cultures

The result was a cacophony of languages and a klatch of cultures, all centered on our shared faith in Jesus Christ and common commission to spread the gospel and meet needs in his name.

Over and over, people in the meeting hall, concourses and exhibit area said something along these lines: “This just feels different.” Almost without exception, they said it with a grin on their faces. They couldn’t help but smile as they looked around the rooms and saw faces the colors of Texas, as they cocked their ears and heard voices that sound like the music of Texas.

This year, total registration reached 4,008, making this the largest such meeting in 13 years. Without a doubt, the San Antonio assembly produced the most diverse gathering of Texas Baptists. Ever.

With thanksgiving, I remember hearing prayers and songs expressed in at least 10 languages. With joy, I relish the recollection of conversations—some fluent, others halting—with Texas Baptists from a myriad of homelands and backgrounds.

We’re more than we seem

Our Family Gathering reminded Texas Baptists of something we easily overlook when we’re back home in the congregations where we worship and minister week-in and week-out: Together, we’re much larger, more creative and far more capable than we are in isolation.

Sometimes, the sheer expanse and diversity of Texas feels overwhelming. When we think about 30 million Texans scattered from Texarkana to El Paso and Brownsville to Booker, we wonder how we can get our arms around them all. When we consider Texans speak in enough languages to make the United Nations translation corps squeamish, we have a hard time imagining how we ever can proclaim proficiently.

But when we’re together in all our diversity, we can plainly see God already has begun this big work in us. The Lord has assembled a multitude of Texas missionaries—engineers, students, teachers, businesspeople, homemakers, doctors, laborers and, of course, even some pastors—who already have made headway toward that task.

Choices remain

The glory of the San Antonio experience doesn’t eliminate firm facts and challenging choices. We still don’t raise enough money to fund all the ministries Texas—not to mention the rest of the world—needs. We must prioritize those needs, take them on in order of those priorities, and stay after the primary tasks until they’re completed. We must determine how we can be a convention that viably serves the needs—both to give and to receive—of churches large and small, rich and poor. This demands levels of vision, discipline, consensus and sacrifice we have not achieved. It also reminds us the possibilities are phenomenal, even as the consequences of failure are catastrophic.

Many Texas Baptists left the Family Gathering thinking we should do this—meet in the summer, together across racial and ethnic lines—more often than once every five years, as our current schedule suggests. That feels like an excellent idea. Before we make a firm decision, we must consider the assessment of the affinity groups, particularly the African-Americans, Hispanics and bivocational/smaller churches, which sacrificed much of their meeting time to make this all possible.

Whatever the outcome of future gatherings, we need to remember the spirit of San Antonio. We are greater together than we can imagine alone. Our diversity is our greatest physical strength. And in God’s power, we can stride toward sharing the gospel with all of Texas.

Last week’s editorial,  “Get ready for all those babies,” created quite a stir. It propelled traffic on our website, prompted pro and con letters to the editor, popped up all over Facebook and packed my email in-box.

Some readers responded reflexively, and some missed the point. (One later admitted he wrote after reading only 10 percent of the editorial.) But most respondents—both those who agreed and disagreed with me—offered thoughtful, passionate insights. So, although we rarely produce sequels to editorials, this seems like a good time to bend that policy. In a minute, we’ll consider key questions and issues raised by readers.

Editor Marv KnoxBut first, a recap: The editorial anticipated passage of a Texas law banning abortions after the 20th week of pregnancy and including provisions that will cause most women’s health clinics that provide abortions to close their doors. It noted how, ironically, states like Texas that are bastions of Bible-believing Christians do worse than their so-called secular “pagan” counterparts in protecting the weak and vulnerable. It called on us to do a better job caring for these children, offering specific suggestions for adoption, parenting, nutrition and education.

Now, here are some reader responses, followed by reflections:

“Get specific. Where do you stand?”

One reader wanted a bumper-sticker “I believe __________” answer to the debate. A few others instinctively interpreted the editorial as political commentary on the Texas Legislature’s abortion bill.

As my record on editorials shows, I do not favor abortion. I wish no girl or woman ever felt she needed to abort a child. In fact, I don’t know a woman who has had an abortion who is “for” abortion. But we live in a broken world. Brokenness demands Christians faithfully, compassionately and humbly seek God’s redemptive will. That means extending grace to those with whom they do not agree and loving care to women and girls in awful situations.

The editorial did not address the new abortion bill, except that its passage means more babies—some unwanted, some born into desperate circumstances—are on the way. As the Legislature’s second special session began, passage already was foregone. The important questions are: What are we going to do about those babies? Will we do right by them?

“Your numbers are wrong. And those health centers won’t close.”

A couple of readers indicated few abortions actually take place between the 20th and 24th weeks of pregnancy, the timeframe banned by the new bill. Also, they added, pregnant women now will seek abortions earlier than the 20th week. Others predicted abortion clinics make so much money, they’ll comply with the new regulations and stay open. So, we won’t really see an influx of new babies, both groups insisted.

These arguments beg an obvious question: If the new law won’t prevent abortions, why did we endure all this trauma? Some Texans wonder whether Gov. Rick Perry produced the special legislative sessions and the new law to sate the Republican Party’s right wing and enhance his 2016 presidential bid. If that’s true, then this was one of the most callous political manipulations of all time.

Whatever the case—people of goodwill have studied the numbers and calculated various predictions for how many abortions will be prevented, and God only knows if the governor is running for president—the editorial and its proposals would be valid even if an abortion bill had not been presented.

Texas is strongly pro-birth but not pro-life. We do not do enough to care for and support the weakest and most vulnerable among us now, much less later. Whether the abortion rate drops or rises, we need to take steps outlined in the editorial to help those people Jesus called “the least” and admonished us to serve.

“Maybe we’re not ‘helping’ them.”

If pregnant women and the men who got them that way were more responsible and self-reliant, they would be better off, several readers noted. This issue breaks into two parts.

First, the editorial focused on children—the babies who would be born instead of aborted. We have a moral obligation to help children, no matter what we think about their parents. So, simplifying and streamlining adoption, ensuring prenatal and childhood nutrition, training parents and improving education are valid pursuits. And in case you’re wondering, adoption, parent-training and education all increase self-reliance.

Second—and this is counter-intuitive to many Texans—the states that excel in supporting human welfare produce lower rates of teen pregnancy, illiteracy and dropouts. They help create stronger individuals who don’t need to rely on others. Texas and other small-state, pro-self-reliant states rank among the worst in teen pregnancy, illiteracy, hunger and related maladies. We need to help.

“Teach personal responsibility. Make it tangible.”

A thoughtful reader suggested requiring the fathers of babies to do their part. “Strengthen child-support laws,” he wrote. “When a child is born to a single mom, paternity is required. The attorney general’s office is expanded to make sure that young man gets the bill for child support.  … Enforcement is swift. Young dads go to work camp if they aren’t able to find work and pay child support.  …  This will work against the mindset of many teens that having children is not an expense, since government will pick up the tab. This is teaching and enforcing personal responsibility.”

“We’re not all that bad. Your comparisons are wrong.”

At least one reader pointed out if we account for “demographics,” our poverty-and-pain statistics aren’t so bad. They’re comparable to states that spend more on combating child hunger, education and medical care.

That argument can only be translated one way: Hispanics and African-Americans don’t count. If we only consider white people, we’re OK. That, of course, is doubly problematic.

The lesser issue is practical. All the people who live within our state live within our state. If they’re hungry, they’re hungry. If they’re poorly educated, they’re poorly educated. All their problems and challenges impact our state and, consequently are our problems and challenges.

The greater issue is theological. God created all people equally and loves all of us the same. Jesus taught us to consider all people as God considers them. If we discount Texans because of their skin color, language or national origin, we blaspheme our Creator. God help us. 

“It’s the church’s job.”

Some readers recoiled at the notion government should be involved in providing aid for poor people, babies among them. This is a serious political and sociological notion, and almost anyone who reads broadly and converses widely understands the background. At least in part, it’s been advanced by examples of government incompetence and malfeasance. It’s also supported by the theory government should be limited to a few specific tasks. But, like other issues, this one merits two considerations:

First, churches just aren’t doing that job. For years, I’ve asked for an example to the contrary: Send the budget of a church that is doing its prorated share of meeting the nutritional, educational and medical needs of all the people in its community. Not happening. Several readers reported church budgets are strapped these days, and I concur. But their assertion proves the point—if we leave these tasks to the churches, increasing numbers of people will suffer. The task is bigger than all churches’ ability—and most churches’ desire—to respond.

Second, Christians must influence society for the common good. We do not abrogate our congregational duty to serve the poor if we also advocate for public programs that meet their needs. People of faith should be up to the task of promoting these programs and also demanding oversight to ensure they’re operated responsibly.

“You missed the obvious: Reduce the number of pregnancies.”

This is an excellent point, even if it is sensitive for Baptists and other Christians who don’t want to provide a whiff of support for premarital sex. We can preach abstinence until curfew time—and we should affirm the biblical view of sexuality. But if we care about reducing abortions, we’ll also practice clear-eyed pragmatism and make birth control readily available to the groups most at-risk for abortions.

“I didn’t know Christians—much less Baptists—cared like this.”

That statement, and numerous similar comments, broke my heart. As the editorial circulated, I heard from young people who think Christians hate them because they either made mistakes or disagree with traditional Christian thinking.

Several times, I replied: “If my church treated me the way people who claim to be Christian apparently treated you, I wouldn’t have anything to do with the church, either. But most Christians are not judgmental and mean, and Jesus is gracious and loving.”

We can’t expect to speak with credibility to unbelievers unless we first demonstrate our generous, unconditional love. Let’s start by loving Texas’ babies and children.

By the time you read this, the Texas Legislature probably will be close to passing a bill banning abortions after the 20th week of pregnancy and including provisions that will cause most women’s health clinics that provide abortions to close their doors.

An aside: Due to deadlines, the Independence Day holiday and the legislative process, this editorial went to “ether” prior to adoption of the bill. But this issue still matters because (a) lawmakers are all but certain to pass the abortion bill and (b) these proposals should become policy and/or practice, even if the “old” abortion laws still apply.

Editor Marv KnoxWith new abortion laws in place, Texans can expect a significant increase in the number of babies born every year. That’s the whole point—to turn more pregnancies into live births.

We can expect the mothers of a multitude of these “extra” babies to be teens, unwed and/or poor. Those are the demographics of a significant proportion of women who choose abortions.

Since the moral impetus for reducing, if not eliminating, abortions is advocacy for life, then Texans should demonstrate our support for these babies. When you examine many of our current practices and policies, you understand why outsiders claim Texans are more concerned about fetuses than babies, children and teenagers.

Texas is among the nation’s leaders in child poverty, teen pregnancy, dropout rates and illiteracy. We’re also among the nation’s lowest-spending states on child poverty, teen pregnancy, dropout rates and illiteracy. Some people attribute these maladies to dependence on government, the product of a so-called welfare state. If that were true, then their incidence would be higher in states that spend the most on child welfare, anti-poverty programs and education, not the least-spending small-government states, like Texas.

A strange disparity

Ironically, conservative states composed of higher percentages of Bible-believing Christians—from Texas across the South—suffer the blights of child poverty, teen pregnancy, dropout rates and illiteracy much more promiscuously than their more secular counterparts. Those are the states many Texans and Southerners call “pagan” and “dark.”

This disparity is an affront to the name of Jesus. Small wonder unbelieving outsiders doubt the compassion of Christ and the credibility of Christians. We often treat people Jesus called “the least” worse than unbelievers do.

If Texans’ conservative moral values prompt our state to implement one of the nation’s most stringent abortion codes, then we should accept the responsibility for all those babies we will bring into the world. We need to do right by them.

Churches lagging behind

That means both enacting better laws and public programs that protect women and children, make certain no child goes hungry and ensure our young people receive quality education. And don’t dare claim that’s the job of the church, and the state should butt out. The church has demonstrated its unwillingness to rise to the occasion, and the enormity of the task is about to multiply. Maybe less than 10 congregations in the entire state come anywhere near caring for all the poor people in their community. Others lag far behind. Most don’t try. Moreover, a central task of Christian citizenship is public advocacy for the weakest and most vulnerable and championing the common good.

If we’re going to take care of babies spared from abortions, here’s where we start:

• Adoption. Streamline laws and practices to make Texas adoptions simple and inexpensive. A mother who carries her baby to term should know without a doubt that child can be placed in a loving “forever” family who will treasure and nurture it as their own.

Churches can support this by creating a culture of adoption—adoption as ministry—that provides a ready and willing supply of families who receive children.

• Parenting. At-risk families of these children need the help of a variety of steps. They include …

More classes and other learning opportunities to provide basic-parenting skills. Churches particularly can provide these.

Changes in tax laws to benefit intact two-parent families.

Stronger incentives, as well as financial requirements, for fathers to remain in homes with mothers and their children.

Changes in the penal codes so nonviolent offenders of numerous crimes make appropriate restitution but are not locked up and removed from their homes. Research shows the No. 1 factor related to promiscuity of girls and violence of boys is absence of a father from their home.

• Nutrition. Secure and strengthen public- and private-sector programs that ensure no child in Texas goes hungry. These changes need to accommodate programs for infants and preschoolers, as well as school-age children, not only during school sessions, but also holidays and summer.

• Education. Multiple changes will be required, including …

Expanded Head Start programs, to give young children in at-risk families greater opportunity to learn early and prepare for school.

Parental training, so moms and dads understand the educational system, the requirements of schools and how they can help their children learn. For some, expanded adult literacy and remedial adult education is needed. Churches can play a huge role.

Tutoring for children at all levels. Churches must provide the people-power to make this possible.

Modification of middle school and high school curriculum to expand vocational training and broaden vocational options. Our state economy increasingly will depend upon well-trained workers who did not attend college.

These are just a few ideas. If we all turn our hearts and minds toward unconditional compassion and care for the all the baby Texans, we will develop more and better responses.

We must start now, before they are born.

We are sidling up to a tenuous and tepid Independence Day this year.

Independence for whom? Fireworks may fizzle over the heads of racial minorities across the South and selected areas elsewhere in the US of A.

Editor Marv KnoxNine days prior to the Fourth of July, the U.S. Supreme Court crippled a key provision of the Voting Rights Act of 1965. This law stipulates states, cities and counties whose historical record indicates racial discrimination in their polling practices must receive prior approval from the attorney general or federal judges before changing how voters cast ballots. It applied to Texas and eight other states, mostly in the South, as well as parts of seven additional states.

Civil rights leaders and statesmen from both parties designed the Voting Rights Act to ensure all citizens receive a fair and equitable opportunity to vote. And understanding human nature, they wrote a provision specifically to prevent voter discrimination before it can occur.

The Supreme Court’s 5-4 decision did not overtly strike down that provision, which calls for federal oversight of state and local voting provisions. But it said Congress must come up with a new formula for how to apply the act. A sharply divided Congress is unlikely to draft nonpartisan consensus guidelines for anything as vital as the political parties’ futures.

Chief Justice John Roberts, who joined the other four conservative justices in undermining the key feature of the Voting Rights Act, explained: “Our country has changed. And while any racial discrimination in voting is too much, Congress must ensure that the legislation it passes to remedy that problem speaks to current conditions.”

Resurging racism

Roberts probably believes what he said. Millions of Americans no doubt believed it, too—four and a half years ago, when our nation elected its first African-American president. But that step forward set off insidious and then resurging racism that seemed to turn back the clock of progress. It strains our national psyche and threatens our future.

If you think the United States has “changed” so we need fewer protections for civil rights, think again. Study the congressional redistricting actions of the Texas Legislature during the past two decades. Read the comment sections of news websites—whatever their political leanings—and note the racial animosity and distrust. Ask your friends of color, if you have them, if we’re a state or nation of racial equality and accord.

Racial equality—of which the right to vote is one leading indicator—should matter to serious Christians because of principle and pragmatism.

Principles from the Bible

We take our principles from the Bible, where concern for minorities and the vulnerable abound. In the Old Testament, followers of God are instructed to care for the weak and powerless, such as widows, orphans and aliens. Later, the prophets pronounced God’s judgment when the people failed to live up to those direct and straightforward standards. In the New Testament, Jesus said people will be judged by how we treat the “least” in society. The Apostle Paul insisted distinctions that differentiate us are of no account.

If we’re true to the dictates of our faith, we will work and struggle and sacrifice to ensure the rights of all people are protected. Baptists, of all citizens, should understand and affirm minority rights. For much of our history, we were a persecuted minority. Sadly, we often seem to apply the same what’s-in-it-for-me calculus as our neighbors, helping to elect demagogues who divide people for political gain and deny others’ rights for their own power.

Common sense

We should learn pragmatism from basic observation and common sense. The weakest societies are the divided cultures—the places where only the upper and lower classes exist, where the powerful oppress the weak. In those societies, the wealth and strength of the rich and powerful inevitably are short-lived, because the overall infrastructure fails.

Domestically, a state or region cannot expect to be vibrant if it does not provide education, secure wellness and offer a path of progress for its weakest citizens. In recent decades, plenty of Texans have traveled through Southern states and thanked God we didn’t have their problems—illiteracy, teen pregnancy, diabetes and other scourges. Now, we’re racing them down the dead-end street of poverty and toward the grossest immorality, disregard for fellow human beings.

Our state and nation cannot be significantly stronger than our weakest residents. The Supreme Court doesn’t get it. Will we, before it’s too late?

I’ll be glad when my grandson, Ezra, learns to speak English.

Actually, Ezra already speaks English—partway. He doesn’t have any trouble communicating some of his greatest desires. Like when he wants to go outside, or blow bubbles, or play with his trains, or race, or watch Thomas the Tank Engine and Mickey Mouse on my iPad, or find my dog.

Editor Marv KnoxBut more complex speech simply evades his 2?-year-old grasp. He hasn’t graduated to abstract thinking. And if I question, “Why?” I might as well be speaking Swahili.

So, understanding Ezra’s rationale sometimes is as complex as Winston Churchill found Russian thought, which he described as “a riddle, wrapped in a mystery, inside an enigma.” I watch him closely, wondering exactly what’s going on inside that little head. And I’m befuddled.

This came to mind the other day, when his mama and my daughter, Lindsay, posted this note on Facebook: “I guess Ezra is afraid I may quit feeding him since he’s stashing breadcrumbs in his belly button and then pulling them out to eat them.”

I agreed with his grandmama and my wife, Joanna, who posted in reply, “That is quite funny and disgusting at the same time.” (My friend and colleague Ken Camp, the father of three sons, countered that if Joanna and I had raised boys instead of girls, we would be unfazed by bread in bellybuttons.)

We could be edified

If Ezra could articulate his thoughts, we could be edified. We could understand why he decided to start sticking breadcrumbs in his belly button and—even more fascinating-yet-loathsome—why he would eat them.

As it is, we’re left to speculate on the possibilities:

• His mama is right. He fears each meal may be his last, so he’s storing up.

• He’s a curious little boy. While eating a peanut butter sandwich, he mused: “Hey, my belly button is like a little sack. How many breadcrumbs will it hold? How long will it hold them? What will they taste like after they’ve been in my belly button for a while? Will my mom notice I stored breadcrumbs in my belly button and ate them for a snack?”

• He’s a budding comedian. At the tender age of 2?, he already knows two principles of slapstick: Although sight gags are the lowest form of humor, they always get a laugh. And you can bet the farm that gross jokes get an even-bigger laugh.

• He’s a magical prodigy. Someday, Ezra will pull rabbits out of hats, silver dollars out of children’s ears and bouquets of flowers out of thin air. But for starters, he’s perfecting the ol’ breadcrumbs-out-of-the-belly-button routine.

Unfortunately, we’ll never know exactly why Ezra decided to stuff breadcrumbs in his belly button and eat them later. By the time he’s old enough to explain himself, he will have progressed to more frantic antics. Breadcrumbs will be long forgotten.

Other strange, inexplicable stunts

Even more unfortunately, Ezra is not unique. And I’m not talking about the global population of 2?-year-olds. Our planet is full of people who pull strange, inexplicable stunts. You see this every morning when you look at the newspaper, every coffee break when you glance at the Internet, every evening when you turn on the news. Somebody, somewhere has done something totally bizarre but is at a loss to explain why.

We’ve seen so many politicians and prominent business people who think with regions of their bodies far removed from their brains, they could populate a European country. They governed states and ran Fortune 500 countries and then threw away their families, careers and reputations for a frisky fling or a fast buck. Then, given the opportunity to explain, they turned tongue-tied and told the world they’re sorry if we’re offended.

But those illustrations are too easy. And too distant.

Time and time again, our churches have lost precious influence, not to mention disgraced the name of Jesus, because they acted in decidedly un-Christlike ways. Fact is, the misbehavior within the church pretty much mirrors the misbehavior outside. And the squabbles and fights and mistreatment and pain we inflict on each other leave unbelievers wondering why they’d ever want anything we’ve got to offer.

Left to explain ourselves, we point fingers and cast blame and can’t begin to articulate what happened, much less why.

Closer to home

But, again, those illustrations are too easy. And too distant.

In my own life, I trip over the rug of sin and shame again and again. The same lack of discipline and selfishness and apathy and feeble faith for which I’ve tearfully repented countless times steals my joy and zaps my spiritual strength. And I can’t explain why, but only quote the Apostle Paul: “I do not understand what I do. For what I want to do I do not do, but what I hate I do” (Romans 7:15).

Years ago, my friend and colleague Lynn Clayton passed along a funny quote. The first time I heard it, I thought it was a joke. But it’s a deep truth. When I remember it—and I’m embarrassed to admit that, too often, I forget—my life is more grace-full, empathetic and understanding.

Editor Marv KnoxLynn and I worked together in the mid-1980s. He was editor of the Louisiana Baptist Message, and I was his associate. Those were tense days in Baptist life, and it seems our newspaper made readers angry enough to write vitriolic letters every week.

As editor, one of Lynn’s jobs was to answer all that mail. I could tell it sometimes weighed him down. He and I both are PKs—“preachers’ kids”—and our default perspective is to please people and make them happy. So, dealing with unhappy, ticked-off people was a burden. I didn’t envy him one bit.

One day, Lynn received a particularly nasty letter. He told me he’d heard how a Methodist bishop somewhere answers mail, and he was thinking about copying the approach.

“So, what does he do?” I asked.

“He answers all negative mail the same way,” Lynn responded. “Each letter is only two sentences long: ‘Thank you for your letter. There’s an excellent chance you might be right.’”

Lynn’s hot letter cooked him into a funk. He seemed serious about following our Methodist brother’s two-line approach to cranky correspondence. Despite his forlorn appearance, I couldn’t help but laugh out loud.

Nothing to punch

“That’s brilliant,” I insisted. “Think how much time a letter like that will save. On the front end, you don’t even have to think up an answer to all your negative mail. And second, it will end every argument. How do they fight back if you don’t give them anything to punch?”

Of course, I also thought the fine bishop’s letter was totally disingenuous. Who really would write a letter like that and mean it? I knew I couldn’t.

And then I got a little older. Life experiences taught me lessons. The most important lessons—and the hardest to learn—schooled me when I made mistakes, when I thought I was absolutely right, only to discover I was irrevocably wrong.

One word describes situations like that: “Humbling.”

Well, another word also comes to mind: “Invaluable.”

Some of the greatest episodes of growth happen when I have to admit I made a mistake. When I acknowledge someone else is right and I am (golly, it’s hard to say) wrong.

Good results

When you admit you are wrong—or someone else is right—several good things happen.

First, you feel liberated. Always being right is a heavy, onerous job. When you’re set free from perfection, weight falls off your shoulders.

Second, you can be more flexible. Even when you think you’re right, you can appreciate the fact you might be wrong. That provides permission to think more broadly, to explore other options, to be creative.

Third, the future is more exciting. If you realize you don’t know everything, then you can’t wait to see what you’ll learn. (Even if you could know everything, then you might as well die. Because what fun would life be if new lessons weren’t out there to be learned?)

Of course, as I noted, admitting you’re wrong—or even acknowledging you might be wrong—is a humbling experience. Most of the time, we act like that’s a bad thing. “Humbling” and “humiliating” are sibling experiences. And in our proud culture, nothing is worse.

We need more humility

But that’s not true, is it? The more I see of this world—in international relations, in our churches, in communities, in businesses, and in families and marriages—the more I’m certain the one thing we need more of is humility. Humility is not earned. It’s bequeathed through mistakes, errors, blunders, gaffes and miscalculations.

When we embrace the capacity to say, “There’s an excellent chance you may be right” and/or “You know, I might be wrong,” we open up new worlds of growth and relationships. If more of us could admit mistakes and agree we might be wrong, the world would experience fewer wars, divorces, business failures, estrangement, loneliness, heartache and split churches.

“Do you think Baptists ever will get back together again?” a young friend asked over lunch the other day.

His question arose naturally, because this is convention season for Baptists. The Southern Baptist Convention conducts its annual meeting in Houston this week. The Cooperative Baptist Fellowship convenes in Greensboro, N.C., the end of the month. And the Baptist General Convention of Texas, which normally meets in the fall, holds its “Family Gathering” in San Antonio the middle of July.

Editor Marv KnoxThe main reason these Baptists hold two national meetings every June is because the Southern Baptist Convention split a couple of decades ago. The division resolved a theological-political “holy war.” The more conservative group called the other side liberals and said they didn’t believe the Bible. The more progressive group called the others fundamentalists and said they desecrated Baptist polity and heritage. The right wing won the battle and gained control of the SBC, while the vanquished left and formed the Fellowship. Then the rancor spread to many state conventions, such as Texas, where the more conservative group left the BGCT and formed the Southern Baptists of Texas Convention in 1998.

My friend wondered if all those Baptists would reunite someday.

Already settled

His question startled me. Not because it’s unreasonable. Not because Baptists shouldn’t hope for unity. Not even because God’s grace isn’t broad enough to embrace all kinds of Baptists. But because the issue was settled long ago.

So, I gave him the most direct answer: “No.”

He looked quizzical.

“It’s like this: After a divorce, friends and family of the couple sometimes hope they’ll get back together, right?” I asked.

He nodded.

“But when they marry other people, the odds of remarrying are long. And then, when they have kids with their new spouses, nobody dreams of getting back together. Well, the old conventions still maintain their institutions and send missionaries, while the new conventions support their own missionaries and institutions. They’ve got ‘families’ and ‘kids’ to support, and they’re never, ever getting back together.”

He nodded again but didn’t say anything.

Filling the silence and feeling less-than-holy for making such a dire prediction, I explained I believe in miracles, but I also know human nature and Baptists. “I don’t think they’ll get back together—at least in my lifetime,” I finished, tossing a caveat of hope there at the end.

The ‘future’ has arrived

That conversation occurred a few days ago, but Baptist conventions have remained on my mind.

The future for which Baptists battled has arrived. And it hasn’t turned out like either side planned. At the state and national levels, both groups are grayer, smaller and poorer than they were before the splits. We could analyze and document each of those points—and myriad other issues besides—for both the national and state conventions. For the sake of time, we won’t. The operative truth is the same: Both groups are grayer, smaller and poorer than they were before the splits.

They probably couldn’t afford to get back together, even if they wanted.

Antagonism abatement

But here’s a positive observation: The antagonism among all the folks who currently are or used to be Southern Baptists seems to have abated in the last few years. That’s probably due to three reasons.

First, time heals wounds. It’s just hard to stay hurt and angry for 30-something years. People have to get on with their lives. And so the penchant for punishment and vindication erodes. Christians see how God worked with them and through them, even out of the worst of times. And, despite it all, we feel blessed.

Second, new leaders have emerged. Both “sides” now look to torchbearers who weren’t even out of high school with the big battles raged. Others are rising who weren’t even born when the SBC split and the CBF formed. They may have the same theological and political convictions of their elders, but they don’t remember the conflict. It feels foreign to them. And so their forebears’ enemies aren’t their own; they’re just their distant Christian cousins.

Third, for the most part—a few exceptions aside—Baptists are humbler now. The realities of tight budgets, decreased baptisms, plateaued churches and cultural power erosion have softened most Baptists. We’re less inclined to look down on other Baptists because we know, from our own experience, how hard it is to keep the faith—whatever faith you keep.

The next step …

With that in mind, it’s time for all these Baptists to take the next step on the spiritual pilgrimage we all—ironically—share.

Why don’t we start praying for each other?

What if the Southern Baptist Convention set aside time in its meeting to pray for the Cooperative Baptist Fellowship? And what if the CBF stopped to pray for the SBC? What if the Baptist General Convention of Texas prayed for the Southern Baptists of Texas Convention and vice-versa?

We’re not inclined to “get back together,” and it probably wouldn’t be wise.

But, Lord knows, we all could use some prayer.

The crackling sound you heard a few days ago was hell freezing over.

The Boy Scouts of America’s National Council voted  “to remove the restriction denying membership to youth on the basis of sexual orientation alone.” Beginning in January, the Scouts will allow gay members.

Editor Marv KnoxFor 103 years, the Boy Scouts have represented one of the most conservative organizations in America. Congregations sponsor the vast majority of the organization’s 116,000 troops. The BSA describes itself as “one of the nation’s largest and most prominent values-based youth development organizations (that) provides a program for young people that builds character, trains them in the responsibilities of participating citizenship and develops personal fitness.”

Small wonder, then, the whole nation took notice when the Scouts accepted gay members. This decision says a great deal about our society.

The culture war is over.

Now that Scouting is open to gay youth, how can anyone think conservative Christians are going to control our cultural conversation?

(We should take a moment to note the operative phrase in that sentence is “conservative Christians.” All Christians do not agree about homosexuality. Indeed, it’s a pivotal issue in several Christian denominations, with serious people of faith taking opposing sides.)

2013 will go down as a pivotal year in the relationship between Americans and sexuality. More than votes on gay marriage, which are taken state by state, and Supreme Court cases, which are decided on narrow legal terms, the Boy Scouts reflect cultural change. Scouts are nationwide and grassroots. Their policy shift represents revised thinking at the local, even individual, level.

What’s next?

The Boy Scouts’ announcement left millions of Americans—conservative Christians among them—wondering about the future. To be certain, hundreds and perhaps thousands of churches will disband their Scout troops or disassociate from the national organization. Southern Baptist leaders see the Scouts’ gay vote as a golden opportunity to revamp its Royal Ambassadors missions program, which many Baptists thought died out long ago. Churches in other denominations will follow suit.

But honestly, that’s only a secondary issue. Here’s a bigger and more important question: How are Christians who believe homosexual practice is sinful going to behave in a society where they are a shrinking minority?

Such a question particularly is challenging for conservative Christians in Texas and across the South, where they enjoyed cultural hegemony for generations. That hegemony played out 25 or more years ago, but it’s become harder to ignore only in the last few years. Now, it should be obvious.

(Before we go further, an aside: Might doesn’t ensure right. Never has. Conservative Christians held the worst record on race relations. The “Bible Belt” states still routinely lead the way in teen pregnancy, child poverty and illiteracy. For all their biblicism, conservative Christians own a sorry record for creating communities and providing state leadership that reflect Jesus’ concern for the poor and disenfranchised. Oh, and they also tend to be dogmatic deniers of human responsibility for the environment.)

An effective minority

Conservative Christians tend to despair when they lose another battle in the culture war. It’s time to get over it and start behaving as an effective minority.

Christians comprise minorities in many parts of the world where the church is growing most rapidly. Faith is multiplying because the Holy Spirit is working. And the Spirit is working through people who are untroubled by the fact they do not get to call the shots in their culture. In fact, harsh circumstances directly correlate to expansive growth.

Christians in developing nations and other locations where they are minorities are multiplying because they faithfully, radically and sacrificially demonstrate Jesus’ love—especially for people who disagree with them and at times treat them harshly. Rather than attempt to dictate the norms of society and complain when they don’t get their way, they act out the Good Samaritan’s loving concern for their neighbor.

They risk their own comfort, their security and, in many cases, their own lives to demonstrate loving care for others. They don’t depend upon voting their will upon others. They don’t exert political or commercial power to get their way. In fact, they don’t even try to get their way. They incarnate the gospel, enabling others to experience Jesus’ love through their own sacrificial good deeds.

Transforming initiatives—stark acts of love and selfless service—proclaim the gospel so redemptively it cannot be ignored. If more Americans expressed their faith through love instead of dogma and judgment, the culture just might take notice.

See reader responses to this editorial in our Letters section here and here.

Every so often, I play the “If We Knew Then …” Game.

Without fail, the other player is a fellow Baby Boomer. We’re middle-aged. Too far along to make monumental career changes. Still years from retirement.

“If we knew then what we know now, what would you become?” one of us asks. Then we re-live our lives as if we had made one huge, different choice.

Editor Marv KnoxIt’s not quite the George Bailey/It’s a Wonderful Life option—what life would be like for our families and friends if we’d never lived. It’s less radical but more personal—what our own lives would be like if we had chosen different careers.

Most times, I say I would have become a pediatrician. In my day (re)dream, my life is idyllic. That’s because I, in fact, did not become a pediatrician. Panicky new parents never have called in the middle of the night. And I’m not trying to figure out how to manage a medical practice in the midst of healthcare reform.

Blessings

So, I settle back into my own real life. God blessed me with a splendid family, terrific friends, vibrant health and an interesting career. Every day, I give thanks.

But practically every life is shaped by at least one random element. It’s the event or development that knocks plans off course. It’s unpredictable, perhaps unavoidable. It may not change everything, but it re-forms and re-shapes huge swaths of that life.

My random element is my career. And I’m good with that. If I had to choose radical alteration of my family, friends, health or career, I’d pick career. Every time.

Maybe your career is your random element. Or maybe not. But chances are, you’ve experienced a random element, too. And if you ponder it, you can correlate your random element to mine or to my life. We’re probably not that different.

My ‘random element’

Ironically, my random element didn’t surface at the obvious time. Early in my career, I covered the Southern Baptist Holy War. A friend predicted I would be “damaged goods,” because most Baptists didn’t want to know the truth about the conflict rocking their convention.

Instead, I eventually landed my dream job: Back in my home state, Texas, editing the newspaper I’d read since I was a boy, the Baptist Standard.

Be careful what you pray for.

Fourteen-plus years ago, when I sat down at my predecessors’ desk, few observers envisioned the near-death of the newspaper industry. Fewer still predicted the escalating pace of post-denominationalism, the malaise of the Baptist movement and large-scale congregational apathy toward conventions. Even visionaries didn’t have a clue about the amazing-yet-bewildering advances in computers, communication, the Internet and social networking.

Shortly after I became editor here, the Baptist General Convention of Texas split, victimized by the Holy War. The Standard’s circulation—a victim of a perfect storm of the Holy War, broader declines in the newspaper industry, and cyclical economic downturns—continued a slide that began in 1980.

Many days, I cried out to God as I drove to work. I pleaded with God to reverse our circulation trends and restore advertising. Acknowledging my limitations as a leader perhaps had exacerbated our challenges, I told God I’d happily change jobs if that would mean restoration for the Standard. God never seemed to resolve those prayers.

Opportunities

Instead, God strengthened love for the Standard within a core of Texas Baptists. God fortified the faith and courage of Baptist Standard Publishing’s board of directors. God propelled the passion and commitment of our staff. God directed vision, technology and opportunity our way.

So, this year, we converted the Baptist Standard to digital delivery exclusively; updated our website, baptiststandard.com; launched CommonCall, a magazine of inspiration and ideas; and completed construction of FaithVillage.com, a resources website and social network for young church leaders, adults and teenagers.

All these changes don’t guarantee success, of course. But the digital Standard and CommonCall provide us with our best opportunities in 30 years to extend our reach. And FaithVillage.com presents the possibility of helping hundreds of thousands of church leaders, young adults and teenagers deepen their relationship with Jesus, expand their faith friendships, and strengthen their ministry skills for the cause of Christ.

I hope and pray those developments come about. More imminently, I hope my experience with life’s random element resonates with yours and brings you hope.

Do I wish my life and career had tracked the way 19-year-old Marv planned it? You bet. But I’ve been blessed by my own random element and, more particularly, the lessons it has taught. Here are five things I’ve learned through struggle with my random element:

• Life is hard. As Christian singing artist Ginny Owens proclaims, God never said life would be easy; he only said we’d never go through it alone.

• Change is constant. That’s the obvious truth of our era.

• Desperation is liberating. You can try as hard as you are able, over and over, and your labor doesn’t produce results. Then you give yourself permission to try something new.

• You can’t control much of anything, which also is liberating.

• God is reliable. “Meanwhile, the moment we get tired in the waiting, God’s Spirit is right alongside helping us along. If we don’t know how or what to pray, it doesn’t matter. He does our praying in and for us, making prayer out of our wordless sighs, our aching groans. He knows us far better than we know ourselves, knows our pregnant condition, and keeps us present before God. That’s why we can be so sure that every detail in our lives of love for God is worked into something good” (Romans 8:26-28, The Message).

Are you cool enough for Abercrombie & Fitch? 

Chances are, the answer is “No.” If you’re a woman who’s not skinny or if you’re anywhere near my age (56), the answer is “Definitely no.”

Editor Marv KnoxAbercrombie has been in the news lately because of reaction to old comments by the company’s CEO, Mike Jeffries. In 2006, he told Salon.com he only wants “good-looking people” in his stores. “Good-looking people attract other good-looking people, and we want to market to cool, good-looking people,” he said. “We don’t market to anyone other than that.”

Abercrombie reinforces its marketing strategy by refusing to make women’s clothing larger than size 10. That policy provoked the ire of actress Kirstie Alley, known in recent years for her ongoing struggle with weight.

Attire for the homeless?

The brand also has been targeted by filmmaker Greg Karber. One of Abercrombie’s district managers reportedly said the company’s clothing collections aren’t intended for “poor people,” so it burns faulty clothing rather than donating it to charity. Karber has launched a campaign to re-brand Abercrombie by giving its flagrantly branded “A&F” clothes to homeless people. He’s vowed to make Abercrombie & Fitch “the world’s No. 1 brand of homeless apparel.”

(That strategy prompted a thoughtful discussion  at the Red Letter Christians website about the ethics of using vulnerable homeless people as virtual billboards in an economic/political campaign.)

On one level, the Abercrombie & Fitch fracas is just another cultural sideshow. But it provides a metaphor with deeper implications for Christians.

‘Our kind’ of people

Do we market our churches as clubs for “our kind” of people? No doubt, few congregations intentionally take that approach. But when we fail to make sure all people feel welcome, we’re promoting an exclusive “brand.” When we send out verbal and nonverbal cues that only people who dress, speak, think, act and look a certain way really belong, we tell everybody else they don’t.

I’ve talked to plenty of people who tried church but felt they just didn’t belong. Sometimes, they simply felt “other” than the church members. Far too often, they felt judged and condemned.

You’ve heard the old saying, “The church is a hospital for sinners, not a country club for saints.” But we always must resist the impulse toward clubbiness. We fail in our mission every time someone drives past a church building and feels the way all of us uncool people feel when we walk past an Abercrombie & Fitch store in the local mall.

Kountze’s Scripture-quoting cheerleaders won the latest round in their battle to paint Bible verses on run-through signs at football games.

But this game might not be over until nine black-robed referees in Washington, D.C., proclaim, “Thus saith the court.”

Editor Marv KnoxHere’s the latest: Judge Steve Thomas of the 356th District Court in Hardin County ruled in favor of cheerleaders’ right to hold up run-through banners emblazoned with Scripture verses at the start of football games.

The banners—which typically cite verses such as “I can do all things through Christ which strengthens me” and “If God is for us, who can be against us?”—have been contested since the 2012 football season.

The Freedom From Religion Foundation received a complaint and contacted the Kountze Independent School District. The district banned the banners. Then the cheerleaders sued the district. Thomas issued a temporary injunction, which allowed the cheerleaders to make and display the banners through the football season. Eventually, the school district changed its policy to support the cheerleaders. And Thomas issued his ruling May 8, negating a trial scheduled for summer.

Thomas’ summary judgment states: “The evidence in this case confirms that religious messages expressed on run-through banners have not created, and will not create, an establishment of religion in the Kountze community.”

“Neither the Establishment Clause (of the First Amendment) nor any other law prohibits the cheerleaders from using religious-themed banners at school sporting events,” the Beaumont Enterprise reported Thomas as ruling. “Neither the Establishment Clause nor any other law requires Kountze I.S.D. to prohibit the inclusion of religious-theme banners at school sporting events.”

Up the legal ladder

The Los Angeles Times reported Dallas attorney Thomas Brandt indicated school district officials would study the ruling and ask the judge for further clarification before deciding whether to appeal. District officials wanted to allow the banners because of strong community support, but the district should not be required to allow them, he said.

So, the contest may not be over. The school district could appeal. And even if the district defers, others may press the issue in federal court.

“We did not expect justice in a Texas state court,” Annie Laurie Gaylor, the Freedom From Religion Foundation’s co-president, told the Times. “It’s impossible to imagine a judge approving cheerleader messages saying, ‘Atheists rule—God is dead’ or ‘Allah is supreme—pray to him for victory.’”

The foundation hopes students, teachers and parents who oppose the banners will keep up the legal challenge.

Constitutional questions

Ultimately, the issue could be decided based upon whether Scripture-citing banners violate the Establishment Clause, which maintains government cannot “establish” religion.

Students enjoy free-speech rights to pray and quote Scripture and share their faith on campus and at school events. But if the school—as an agency of the government—sponsors or supports that activity, a higher court may rule it unconstitutional.

So, questions will arise: Do the school or the students themselves purchase supplies used to make the banners? Do the students create the banners on their own time or during school? Are sponsors who are school employees involved in constructing the banners? Those are simple questions with straightforward answers.

Harder questions would dig deeper: Is the act of holding up and running through the banners intrinsically part of a school-sponsored event, such as an athletic contest? Do banners held by cheerleaders wearing school uniforms and crashed by athletes wearing school uniforms imply the sanction and endorsement of the school? And if Christian cheerleaders can hold banners with Bible verses, can students of other faiths paint huge signs quoting the Quran or a Wiccan text?

If the question of prayer before ballgames could climb much higher up the judicial ladder—which it did—then this case could, too.

Higher issues

Meanwhile, grownups who provide guidance to these girls and other students ought to ask an important question. “Is this really what’s best for God’s kingdom?”

It’s hard to imagine any Christian who would dispute “I can do all things through Christ … .” But here are a couple of non-legal issues to consider:

• Signs that imply divine endorsement of one high school football team over another promote bad theology. God doesn’t care who wins a football game.

In Texas, for example, practically every public school team will include some faithful Christians, some hypocritical Christians, some out-and-out scoundrels, some pagans and, most likely these days, folks of other faiths.

Don’t expect God to choose one over the other.

While we want our students to believe the truth of the Scriptures on those banners, raising them up as talismans for their teams imparts an air of superiority and divine entitlement. Spiritual triumphalism is not becoming.

And that leads to the other point …

• Scripture run-through signs aren’t very evangelistic.

They imply God loves one team more than the other. Not true.

They exclude and unnecessarily taunt people who do not share the faith.

They’re far from personal and relational.

They’re unloving.

So, while their advocates claim the Kountze cheerleaders’ legal victories are wins for freedom of speech and religion, it’s much harder to maintain they advance the cause of Christ. 

Fear—or high anxiety, at the least—wafted through the large auditorium on a windy spring evening. Hundreds of parents assembled to listen to speakers talk to them about raising their children.

Sitting among them, I couldn’t tell if most of the parents carried their tiny torches of fear with them or if a couple of speakers struck sparks of fear and then fanned the flames for all they were worth.

Editor Marv KnoxIn the moment, I felt flames of anger rising in my own spirit. That’s because I felt those speakers preyed on the parents’ fears to sell the products they promoted. Later, away from the venue, I questioned my assessment because it questioned their motives. Perhaps they really fear the same things the parents fear and they altruistically created their resources to help. Either way—and it’s not my place to judge—the fear felt palpable.

They fear culture. The parents are scared about raising their children, to say nothing of turning them loose, in “the world.”

And those two speakers gave them plenty of fuel for their flaming fear: Supreme Court cases that could legalize gay marriage. Sections of the Affordable Care Act (aka Obamacare) that regulate contraception. Atheist university professors. Social relativism. Ambiguous gender roles.

While some aspects of culture certainly contradict traditional Christian beliefs and practices (and we must admit in humility that Christians don’t agree on many issues or interpretations of issues), and some members of society aggressively confront people of faith, fear is not a valid Christian reaction to culture.

Three responses come to mind:

• Fear contradicts our testimony and undermines faith.

In the first century, John the Evangelist told  the early church: “… the one who is in you is greater than the one who is in the world” (1 John 4:4). The first recipients of his encouragement suffered political and religious persecution. John bolstered their faith by reminding them the Spirit of Christ is stronger than any force they encounter or challenge they endure.

Today, many U.S. Christians claim to be persecuted because others disagree with them or—gasp!—mock them. Such a claim insults Christians elsewhere who endure actual physical and political persecution and, of course, martyrs who actually die for their faith.

Besides, what does Christian fear of the world say about Jesus? Christians shouldn’t expect unbelievers or people of other faiths to accept their truth claims if, at the same time, they live in fear of culture. What kind of a wimpy God can’t hold his own with an agnostic or atheist?

• Christian duty demands we rise above fear.

One of the great books of faith is Christ and Culture, written in the middle of the last century by the theologian/ethicist H. Richard Niebuhr, but still relevant and enormously helpful. Neibuhr describes five ways Christians relate to culture—“against,” or rejecting culture; “of culture,” or accommodating faith to the dominant culture; “above,” or synthesizing faith to culture; in paradox with culture; and transforming culture.

Ironically, many American evangelical Christians embrace two contradictory approaches. Those people who expressed so much fear of culture place themselves against or in conflict with culture. But many also accommodate large elements of culture, or at least the parts that support their lifestyle. So, they simultaneously loathe such aspects of culture as public education and entertainment, while they embrace materialism and conservative politics, much of which is shaped far more by economics than faith.

A more compelling vision urges Christians to follow the Christ who transformed culture. That’s certainly not accepting culture at face value, but it definitely involves living in the culture and engaging it for a greater good. Scared Christians fail at this. Courageous Christians who also are grounded in Jesus excel at it and make a positive difference in the world.

• If we love God’s world, we will not fear it.

After John reminded the early Christians the One who is in them is greater than the one who dominates the world, he reminded them of the power of love: “There is no fear in love. But perfect love drives out fear, because fear has to do with punishment. The one who fears is not made perfect in love.” If we love God and also love the world God made, we need not fear it.

This is a wonderfully evangelistic thought. If we love God’s creation—even the people who challenge and contradict and hate us—we can be instruments that drive out fear. Love powers us to transcend fear. Our love can overcome their fear, too.

“Perfect love drives out fear.”