Civil war in Syria has produced more than its share of imponderable developments, shocking scenarios and geopolitical conundrums.

Even though we’ve seen such behavior before, we still struggle to imagine how a national leader can mete out brutality as Bashar al-Assad has visited upon the Syrian people. Satellite television delivers horror to our homes 24/7, but we are not so inured to sorrow our hearts did not break when family members scavenged through corpses in search of loved ones. And who would have dreamed Russia’s Vladimir Putin would, for whatever reason, aspire to become an international peace broker?

Editor Marv KnoxAlongside all these ideas and images and issues, one of the most fascinating facets of the Syrian crisis has been Americans’ discussion about whether we should intervene. It’s sounded sincere and open—like we want to do the right thing.

Only partly partisan

To be sure, much talk has divided along political lines. But not all of it. Perhaps that’s because President Obama initially staked out an unpopular position. After 22 years of interventions—two in Iraq, another in Afghanistan, and don’t forget Serbia-Croatia—Americans are leery of wars to straighten out other countries. So, many Democrats sided with Republicans. But don’t forget the Republicans who said the president got it right.

And then we witnessed a sight of historically minimal proportions. The president said he thought we should intervene, but rather than issue an executive order, he would put it to a vote of Congress. (Of course, he caught flak from both directions, and the pundits said he dithered. But isn’t it ironic that when Washington follows the scenario we learned in civics class—honoring the separation of powers between the branches of government—folks don’t know what to do?)

No easy answers

But what has impressed—maybe even inspired—me beyond all this has been the way Americans have talked about what we should do. I’ve heard the radio, read the news sites and papers, watched television and listened to regular people talk in public places. Over and over again, we have acknowledged this is a hard issue, with no easy answers. After so many years of kneejerk partisanship, that’s refreshing.

Suppose you were in a mall, and you saw an adult beating a child. Would you intercede to protect the child? Most healthy adults would say yes. And, at its root, this is the argument for intervention in Syria.

But suppose you interceded, causing a major fight with the person beating the child. The fight critically injures, and perhaps even kills, several other children. Some of your friends get involved, but so do the beater’s friends. The fight causes significant damage to the mall, and you’re charged for the expenses. In the fight, you’re injured grievously, a couple of your friends die and others are crippled. And then, when the fight is over and everybody goes home, the adult who started the whole incident keeps on beating the child. In simple terms, this is the argument for staying out of other countries’ conflicts.

We instinctively know this is a hard issue, without easy answers. Reasonable people can build a case for intervention and nonintervention. And so, to a degree I’ve not noticed in quite a while, Americans have been expressing our feelings, even as we acknowledge our ambivalence. We’ve talked civilly with others who take another position. We’ve agreed to disagree, and we’ve respected each other.

Is a rebirth of civility possible?

A great gift of the Syrian debate could be a rebirth of civil and humble discussion. What if we could disagree and express our positions in respectful, calm terms? What if we could disagree and realize that does not mean we must hate each other? What if we were humble enough to realize we might not always be right?

I don’t think this is so difficult. Many friends and I disagree on significant issues of politics and public policy. We talk over meals, occasionally in church, sometimes in cars. Often, we express our opinions passionately. But we never vilify or denigrate each other. And we always know the bonds of our friendship are far stronger—and more important—than the disagreements of our ideology. We disagree, but we part as friends.

What if America were like that? What if we learned to talk civilly? What if we agreed to argue the issues but not attack each other? What if we opened our minds as well as our hearts, relinquishing a tight grip on our arguments in order to learn from each other? We might not agree, but we could appreciate and respect one another.

This sounds idealistic, but it is possible. Christians should lead the way.

Is it just me, or is knowing and doing the will of God a lot harder than folks let on?

This year, I’ve been reading one of the world’s most famous books of daily devotionals, My Utmost for His Highest, by Oswald Chambers. It’s been in print almost 80 years, and it has shaped millions of Christians all over the world.

Editor Marv KnoxChambers’ masterpiece lands in my devotional reading about every three years. Most days, I think I understand what he means, and he encourages me enormously. But some days, my dominant feeling is simple: “Huh?”

That’s when Chambers matter-of-factly talks about doing God’s will. He often implies God’s will is obvious. This has not been my experience.

Trust myself? Not so much

My problem is trust. God I trust. But trust myself? Not so much. The human inclination toward self-will is just too strong. It’s far too easy to rationalize what I want to do and say it’s “God’s will.” Blessed are the times when God’s will and my will coalesce. But if what God wants and what I want don’t align, never underestimate my ability to bend reasoning to suit my purposes.

And I don’t think I’m alone in this predicament.

Whenever someone says, “God told me …,” my first impulse is to laugh. My second impulse is to duck. I wish I knew the percentage of times what God “told” somebody to do happened to be clearly in that person’s self-interest. I’d bet it’s in the high 90s.

A friend once told about a young pastor who moved into his community. The pastor regularly and emphatically pronounced God’s will on practically every subject. After several months, an elderly clergyman in the community told my friend: “I wish I were as certain about anything as that young man is about everything.”

I’m with the old guy. Hindsight is much clearer than foresight.

No ‘God’s Will-O-Meter’

But that doesn’t alleviate the responsibility of discerning God’s will. Too bad we don’t own a God’swillometer. Ask a question, and the needle moves to “God’s Will” or “Not God’s Will.” Short of that divine discernment breakthrough, five filters help me make decisions. Prayer is the sixth, but it permeates all of them. Here you go …

• Scripture. This is dicey, of course, because Christians are excellent at proof-texting—using the Bible to support whatever they want to do. But the Bible guides both positively and negatively. The first basic question is this: Does the Bible tend to support this action or idea? Of course, the Bible doesn’t speak to millions of specific issues or circumstances, but it addresses the broader range. So, we can ask: Will this glorify God? Will this strengthen the cause of Christ? Will this bless others? The Bible points us toward answers.

The second basic question: Does the Bible oppose this action or idea? This question functions on the same principle as the previous question, but it operates from the other direction.

• Wise counsel. When I face major questions or challenges, I want to know what people I respect think. The most tangible way to test ideas and inclinations is to share them with wise people who will tell you the truth.

Baptists ought to be good with this, because we respect the priesthood of all believers. Yes, that doctrine suggests we each possess the privilege and responsibility to seek God and ask for divine will. But it also acknowledges we are not Lone Rangers; we do not live alone. And so we invite the community—or part of the community—to enter into the discernment process with us.

• Self-interest. A great test of personal inclination is to check it against personal interest vs. the greater good. If it only betters you or your lot in life, then be wary. If it improves the circumstances of others, take it more seriously.

• Time. Sometimes, we get in too big of a rush. Society moves rapidly, and we’re tempted to treat decisions like leftovers—pop them in the microwave and get on with it.

Often, however, we need to slow down and allow God’s guidance to seep into our souls. This is counter-cultural, but it’s vital.

My wife, Joanna, and I recently made one of the most significant decisions of our marriage. We took at least three years, maybe longer, to reach a conclusion. Joanna perceived what we now believe to be the Lord’s leadership much earlier than I. But even if I had climbed on board months ago, I’m not sure that would have been best. Time did its work—on both of us—so we could enter a new phase of our lives with joy and anticipation.

• Peace. Through the years, I’ve learned if I’m not at peace with a decision, I’m not finished deciding. Likewise—and maybe even more importantly—I’ve sometimes been surprised by peace. I’ve wrestled with the issue and maybe even wrestled with God, and suddenly a still, small voice says: “Let go. It’s over. You know what to do.”

Many mornings when I’ve found Oswald Chambers confusing, I’ve felt this is what he was getting at. The Holy Spirit makes God’s direction known through gentle, stillness. Through peace.

It’s not emphatic. It’s usually not certain. I’d still never say, “God told me ….” But it’s steady. You can lean on it. You can rest in it.

You probably would not be surprised to learn we receive quite a bit of mail at our office. In the “olden days” of envelopes and stamps, I thought it arrived in torrents. But “snail mail” trickled compared to the deluge precipitated by the ease and speed of email.

Sometimes, I lament the flood, simply because keeping up can take inordinate time. Still, I’m grateful for letters to the editor and personal mail about the work we do here.

Editor Marv KnoxAs you might imagine, some mail conveys adverse reactions to the way we do our work or the ideas I published in editorials. (People seem motivated to write letters when they’re angry or annoyed.) Across the years, I’ve benefited enormously from the criticism readers took time to send my way. Those letters revealed fresh perspectives that had not been apparent to me. They helped me look at our work and the issues facing Baptists with fresh eyes.

Even when I did not agree or did not change my mind, they forced me to think more critically and hone my statements more carefully. So, from a practical standpoint, I appreciate such mail, because it helps me do my job better, and that serves our readers.

More importantly, I appreciate letters to the editor and constructive criticism because I’m a Baptist: I affirm the priesthood of all believers. Among multiple inferences, this means each person—reader, reporter and editor alike—has both the right and responsibility to seek God’s will on the common issues we face, and then to speak up.

Two exceptions

So, I receive mail and email gratefully, with two notable exceptions. The first occurs when writers present themselves as acting spontaneously, but the evidence of more than one letter points toward collusion. The second happens when a reader seeks to extort a specific action by making threats.

This seems to have occurred recently. Perhaps the letters were coincidental, but similarities indicate otherwise. And from the receiving end, they certainly seem threatening. Rather than explain, I’ll share the primary text from the most recent letter:

“I noticed on Baptist Standard website that the Baptist Standard is supplying the link to the Alliance of Baptists which is a pro-homosexual group. I find it very hard to understand why the Baptist Standard would endorse this group by placing it on its website. (Yes you are endorsing it by having it on your website.) I am asking you to remove the link. I will be talking with some Directors of Missions, Pastors, and others about this and letting them know what the Baptist Standard is doing. I am disappointed Marv in the Baptist Standard and in you if you endorsed doing this.”

A link is not endorsement

Yes, the address to the Alliance of Baptists website is one of 104 “Baptist links” included on our website. And, yes, the Alliance of Baptists has taken a minority position among Baptists by welcoming and affirming homosexuals.

But, no, a link on our website does not indicate endorsement of every position the organization has taken. Shoot, we also include links to 13 Southern Baptist Convention agencies and institutions, and we would need to disconnect most, if not all, of them if inclusion implied endorsement of all their beliefs and actions.

Here’s why we include a broad array of links to other Baptist organizations:

First, we believe we should be helpful and transparent in service to our readers. We cover Baptists across the nation and around the world. If our readers want to know more about a Baptist organization that appears in an article, then we should provide easy access to its website. Due to deadlines and the volume of news, we don’t always remember to link every organization in every story, but readers can get there through our “Baptist links” page. (Who knows? Maybe the Alliance-link complainers found out about the Alliance’s stand on sexuality by using our link.)

We trust our readers

And second, we trust our readers. They’re fully capable of conducting their research and deciding if they agree or disagree with another Baptist organization. We don’t need to protect them from the truth. We would be derelict if we tried.

But now these brothers want us to remove the Alliance of Baptists link, or else they’re going to tattle to “directors of missions, pastors and others.” How Christlike of them. When I must deal with pious extortionists, I glimpse a glimmer of how discouraged and fatigued Jesus must have felt when he dealt with the scribes and the Pharisees. “Straining at a gnat while swallowing a camel” makes perfect sense.

Implicit in the threats is the notion these brothers will get the Baptist General Convention of Texas to punish us. Most seem to think they can cut off our funds. But, thank God, the Baptist Standard is the only Baptist news organization not subsidized by a convention. We don’t receive Cooperative Program funds. Never have.

Complacency is dangerous

In the 15 years since a competing convention split from the BGCT, most Texas Baptists have grown complacent about threats to our freedom. We don’t attend BGCT annual meetings to engage in political battle, so most Texas Baptists think we are, well, home free.

That’s not the case, as these threats indicate. A link here, a pulpit there, an agency leader over there. Freedom-deniers think they know what’s best for all Baptists, and they’re happy to force their will onto others. The Baptist Standard will remain a bulwark for freedom. If you’d like to help us, click here.

Fifty years ago this week, a black pastor from the South stood in front of the Lincoln Memorial and delivered the gold standard of social and political oratory.

I wish we could say Martin Luther King Jr.’s “I Have a Dream” speech became the most important and effective political proclamation of all time, or at least in our nation’s history. But we cannot say that, because it’s not true. At least not yet. Reticence does not reflect Dr. King’s vision and eloquence. Rather, it reflects our nation’s moral timidity, fear and greed.

Editor Marv KnoxOften imitated, never duplicated, Dr. King’s speech moved millions of Americans with its power, poignancy and passion. It articulated the aspirations of Americans who did not enjoy the promises of our founding fathers’ principles.

“In a sense, we have come to our nation’s capital to cash a check,” King told 250,000 participants in the March on Washington for Jobs and Freedom. “When the architects of our republic wrote the magnificent words of the Constitution and the Declaration of Independence, they were signing a promissory note to which every American was to fall heir. This note was a promise that all men would be guaranteed the inalienable rights of life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness.

“It is obvious today that America has defaulted on this promissory note insofar as her citizens of color are concerned. Instead of honoring this sacred obligation, America has given the Negro people a bad check which has come back marked ‘insufficient funds.’”

After Birmingham

King spoke three months after horrified Americans tuned in to the evening news and watched police in Birmingham, Ala., turn attack dogs and fire hoses on women and children who protested for integration. He spoke in the shadow of bus boycotts, lunch-counter sit-ins and Freedom Rides—all peaceful protests to lift the yoke of injustice.

Indeed, even as King spoke, more than two-thirds of African-Americans lacked the right to vote, attend integrated schools and use the same water fountains, restrooms and other public facilities as white people, according to USA Today.

King began his speech as most African-American preachers launch their sermons—slowly, deliberately. His prepared text included the line, “I have a dream,” which he had spoken before, at least in Chicago and Detroit.

Well into the speech, Mahalia Jackson, a gospel singer and King’s good friend, called out to him: “Tell ’em about the dream, Martin. Tell ’em about the dream.”

Departing from the text

That’s when King departed from his text and told the world about “the dream”—King’s dream, of course, but also the dream of African-Americans and others who envision true liberty and equality.

“I say to you today, my friends, that in spite of the difficulties and frustrations of the moment, I still have a dream. It is a dream deeply rooted in the American dream,” King said. “I have a dream that one day this nation will rise up and live out the true meaning of its creed: ‘We hold these truths to be self-evident: That all men are created equal.’

“I have a dream that one day on the red hills of Georgia the sons of former slaves and the sons of former slave owners will be able to sit down together at a table of brotherhood. … I have a dream that my four children will one day live in a nation where they will not be judged by the color of their skin but by the content of their character. …

“This is our hope. This is the faith with which I return to the South. With this faith, we will be able to hew out of the mountain of despair a stone of hope. With this faith, we will be able to transform the jangling discords of our nation into a beautiful symphony of brotherhood. With this faith, we will be able to work together, to pray together, to struggle together, to go to jail together, to stand up for freedom together, knowing that we will be free one day. …

“And when this happens, when we allow freedom to ring, when we let it ring from every village and every hamlet, from every state and every city, we will be able to speed up that day when all of God’s children, black men and white men, Jews and Gentiles, Protestants and Catholics, will be able to join hands and sing in the words of the old Negro spiritual, ‘Free at last! Free at last! Thank God Almighty, we are free at last!’”

King’s dream inspired African-Americans and awakened millions of middle-class whites. The next year, Congress passed the Civil Rights Act of 1964, and the year after that, the Voting Rights Act of 1965 became law. Schools integrated. Forty-five years later, Americans elected an African-American president.

But don’t be confused. Dr. King’s dream has not been fulfilled.

A dream still deferred

Just this summer, the George Zimmerman trial reminded Americans of the pungent fear that leads to racial profiling and resulted in the death of an African-American teenager, Trayvon Martin.

An even more craven and calculating fear pressed the Supreme Court to undermine the Voting Rights Act and—in moves that confirm the justices’ myopic failure—propelled states to enact practices that once again curtail minorities’ access to the ballot. To our shame, Texas is among them.

If you pay even the slightest attention, you realize race is an underlying theme of strikes and other protests by fast-food workers. Far too many jobs do not pay a wage sufficient to raise a family, mocking the “American dream.”

To be sure, racial liberty and equality is one of the thorniest issues of this and any age. Responsibility lies with all parties. But as long as racial injustice exists—and any reasonable person must recognize its existence among not only African-Americans, but also Hispanic-Americans and other people of color—we all must press for liberty, equality, freedom.

Otherwise, Dr. King’s hallowed dream will remain deferred.

Texas Baptists should support steps to secure one of our most valuable ministries—the Christian Life Commission.

Editor Marv KnoxFor more than six decades, the Christian Life Commission has provided prophetic leadership to Texas Baptists. The CLC began its ministry in 1950, helping Texas Baptists think about race relations and integration biblically and ethically, years before Brown v. Board of Education.

Through the CLC, we have worked together to apply Christian faith to daily living and public policy. The CLC is renowned for opposing gambling expansion, fighting human trafficking, addressing hunger, curbing predatory lending and standing up for religious liberty.

The Christian Life Commission not only is a Texas Baptist treasure; it is an asset to the entire state. For all our faults, Texas Baptists are more Christlike and Texas is a better place because of the CLC.

Inadvertent action

But this summer, messengers to the Baptist General Convention of Texas annual meeting inadvertently took an action that could erode the CLC’s strength.

Messengers approved a recommendation to clean up the convention’s bylaws. Primarily, the proposal removed descriptions of the BGCT Executive Board’s operational committees from the bylaws and moved them to the board’s policy manual.

That was a good idea. Those committees help the Executive Board do its basic, day-in and day-out work. When their descriptions were included in the bylaws, they could be changed only by vote of the convention in annual session. The Executive Board needed authority to tend to its internal committees directly and promptly.

Unfortunately, along with the committees, the recommendation also removed the description of the Christian Life Commission from the bylaws. So, now the function and operation of the CLC could be modified by the Executive Board with no input from, much less approval by, the convention at large.

Some have contended the change actually did not alter policy, since the BGCT constitution already gave the Executive Board authority to organize itself. But until this year’s BGCT annual meeting, the convention’s bylaws specifically named and outlined the duties of the CLC. So, the CLC was mandated, which provided a parliamentary limit to the Executive Board’s authority with regard to the CLC.

CLC left vulnerable

Under the recently amended bylaws, however, a future Executive Board could decide it wants to do away with the CLC, and the convention at large would have no say in that decision.

More specifically, the language removed from the bylaws transcended mere description. It expressed the ethos of the CLC. For example, this is where the commission was instructed to “speak to and not for the convention and the churches.” Given Baptists’ polity, this is a vital distinction. Without this policy, a future Executive Board could command the CLC to speak “for” the convention without the careful study and approval by, as well as safeguard of, the commission members.

The removed language also charges the CLC with ecumenical work. This is not always popular, but it is vital—both for the commission’s effectiveness and for Texas Baptists’ credibility.

To be sure, the immediate impact on the CLC is not dire. It still functions as it has historically, with offices in Dallas and Austin. The CLC educates Texas Baptists about applied Christianity, helping us bring our faith to bear on everyday ethics and on the great moral issues of the day. The CLC also leads Texas Baptists in public policy engagement. Although it speaks to and not for Texas Baptists, it enables us to address matters considered by state government.

BGCT Executive Director David Hardage affirmed the commission and its work. “The CLC is a vital part of who we are and what we do,” he said. “There was no intention to de-emphasize the CLC. Any conclusion that it has been de-emphasized is incorrect.”

Commission ‘reinstated’

In fact, although recent plans called for the CLC director—a position currently vacant—to report to BGCT Associate Executive Director Steve Vernon, the ethics leader will report directly to Hardage. The CLC has been “reinstated” at the upper echelon of staff leadership, he said.

Still, the Executive Board should recommend reinserting the CLC in the convention’s bylaws at next year’s BGCT annual meeting.

This idea does not reflect on Hardage and Vernon, whose affirmation of the CLC and its role in the convention is strong and consistent. Vernon is a former member and vice chair of the commission. Diminution of the CLC is not likely to take place on their watch.

But Texas Baptists should take a longer view of history. In both state and national spheres of Baptist life, we have seen values and policies shift with the accession of leadership. The Christian Life Commission is far too important to Texas Baptists and to the Lone Star State to be susceptible to changes in executive administration or board rotation.

All Texas Baptists have a stake in the Christian Life Commission. We should maintain a say in its future.

Here’s a nomination for the most interesting question of the month: “Is Francis too radical for the flock?”

That question dominates a fascinating essay by Michael D’Antonio, a Pulitzer Prize-winning journalist and author, in the latest edition of Foreign Policy  magazine. Religion News Service referenced the question, as did dozens of websites and newspapers.

Pope Francis started piquing curiosity—not to mention raising hackles—moments after his election to lead the Roman Catholic Church. He emphasized Christians’ responsibility to imitate Jesus by caring for the poor and disenfranchised. He buttressed that theme with his simple lifestyle and proclivity for reaching out to the dispossessed, disabled and diseased.

Editor Marv KnoxMost recently, in an impromptu conversation with reporters, he expressed a nonjudgmental attitude toward priests with homosexual orientation.

D’Antonio’s essay explores the consequential question—whether Francis risks alienating conservative Catholics, who reveled in the rightward papacies of John Paul II and Benedict XVI.

And that raises a practical question: What is the duty of spiritual leaders?

Churches have become so complex—and even businessy—we often forget the primary task of spiritual leaders is “to equip (Jesus’) people for works of service, so that the body of Christ may be built up until we all reach unity in the faith and in the knowledge of the Son of God and become mature, attaining to the whole measure of the fullness of Christ” (Ephesians 4:12-13).

Spiritual leaders are responsible for training and guiding Christians so they reflect Jesus. This will result in serving others, strengthening the church and attaining faithful unity.

Tough Duty

That’s tough duty in an era when churches—and worldviews—often are shaped more by the prevailing culture than by the gospel. Ironically, while many church-attenders complain about declining moral values (usually having to do with sex), they embrace moral values far below those of Jesus (usually having to do with economic justice and care for the poor).

Unfortunately, following the teachings and practice of Jesus looks “radical,” to use D’Atonio’s term. It runs counter to American middle class capitalistic values, which most church members equate with Christianity.

So, pastors and other would-be Christian leaders face a dilemma: If you’re out front but nobody is following, you’re not leading. That fact seems to inhibit many pastors from teaching lessons about human relationships and economics and justice they know Jesus taught and practiced. They can read their Bibles, and Jesus is unambiguous. But our churches often aren’t on the same page with Jesus.

So, what’s a spiritual leader to do?

• Talk the talk. Too often, church people skip over Scriptures that make them uncomfortable. Or they turn them inside out and spiritualize everything, ignoring the fact Jesus clearly talked about everyday, real-world problems.

Baptists, of all people, should not be afraid to talk about racism, economics, sexuality, hunger, poverty and even politics. We say we believe in the priesthood of all believers. So, we should be believer-priests to one another, and the only way to do that is by talking civilly, honestly and constructively.

• Walk the walk. The most effective sermons are performance art. Sure, structured speeches on Sunday mornings are helpful and important. But the best way to make certain people hear a sermon is to show them. That means integrating teachings about economics, justice, race and the like into daily living—both personally and with others who also know Jesus meant what he said.

Applied Christianity bears at least two kinds of fruit. First, acts of ministry and grace change the people directly involved—both the givers and receivers. And second, people prone to argue about abstract interpretations of Scripture grow tongue-tied arguing with the results of lived-out gospel.

• Take courage. While the pope has a job for life, pastors and other ministers can be fired. So, fear and intimidation are powerful. But ultimately, we answer to God, not other people. If we’re going to be afraid, we should fear facing God after failing to do justice and mercy, not what others may do in the meantime. And through that, we should receive day-to-day courage.

Once, I sat with a pastor and wife who provided remarkable leadership for the cause of justice. They gently but persistently guided their congregation—in both word and deed—to embrace Jesus’ values. “Wow, you spent quite a bit of political capital to lead your church to do this,” I told them. They looked at me incredulously, and I don’t remember who spoke first, but their response was: “Well, what’s it for if you don’t use it?”

We need more Christian leaders like that. We need leaders—pastors and laity alike—brave enough to live like Jesus and to advocate for the things that broke Jesus’ heart.

That’s not “radical.” It’s simply Christian.

Let’s say it up front: A white person doesn’t know what being black feels like. And a man can’t completely understand a woman.

But during this long, hard summer, I’ve tried.

First came the George Zimmerman trial. A Hispanic man stood on Florida’s “stand your ground” law and was acquitted in the murder of an African-American teenager, Trayvon Martin.

Editor Marv KnoxShock waves rolled, particularly in African-American communities. Predicted riots did not occur, thank God. But you’d have to be tone deaf not to recognize the grief, pain and anger that emanated—especially from African Americans—when people wondered whether Trayvon would have been treated with such leniency if that bullet had taken the other life.

Unique perspective

President Barack Obama offered a clear picture of at least one African-American man’s thinking when he talked to reporters about the killing and trial.

“Trayvon Martin could have been me 35 years ago,” he said. “And … it’s important to recognize that the African-American community is looking at this issue through a set of experiences and a history that—that doesn’t go away. …

“There are very few African-American men in this country who haven’t had the experience of being followed when they were shopping in a department store. That includes me. And there are very few African-American men who haven’t had the experience of walking across the street and hearing the locks click on the doors of cars. That happens to me, at least before I was a senator. There are very few African-Americans who haven’t had the experience of getting on an elevator and a woman clutching her purse nervously and holding her breath until she had a chance to get off. That happens often.

“And you know, I don’t want to exaggerate this, but those sets of experiences inform how the African-American community interprets what happened one night in Florida. And it’s inescapable for people to bring those experiences to bear.”

Some people said Obama inserted racism into the situation, as if race weren’t already the central issue. No, he spoke as educator-in-chief. He helped all who would listen glimpse what it’s like to be an African-American male in this country. Still.

Hope deferred

I remember November 2008, when voters elected Obama president. Democrats and Republicans alike marveled at the march of history—we lived in a country that elected an African-American as its leader.

For a moment, I wanted to believe we had arrived at a post-racial America. I didn’t believe it, of course. I have African-American friends, and I know some of their stories. Besides, I can read surveys and statistics and basic everyday reports from the newspaper. So, I knew our nation had not achieved racial equality.

Naively, however, I hoped the election of an African-American president—whatever his political party—marked a giant step forward. Unfortunately, America has disabused that notion. The patina of racism appears thicker, even in the politest situations. And out-and-out racism crops up more frequently and ferociously than it did immediately before.

So, the only real surprise of the Martin-Zimmerman tragedy is that some Americans seem surprised to learn other Americans experience racism.

The woman behind the man

More recently, news outlets have reported 24/7 on disgraced New York City politician and sexting afficionado Anthony Weiner. He’s morphed into a pathetic and disgusting sideshow. Frankly, he’s not that interesting. If he weren’t a former congressman and current NYC mayoral candidate, his case would be worth seven lines in the back of the local papers.

His wife, Huma Abedin, is fascinating. She’s a smart, well-educated, accomplished woman. And—as of this writing, at least—she’s standing by her man.

Stories about Abedin have been intriguing, whether or not you agree with them—or her. People wonder why she hasn’t dumped him. She said she loves him and has forgiven him. They have lives together. They have children.

Some surmise she’s staying because they’re a political couple. After all, her boss, Hillary Clinton, stood with her husband through scandals. Others speculate on Abedin’s and Weiner’s co-dependent relationship. Some predict her career chances would improve if she leaves. They criticize her, on behalf of victimized women everywhere, for staying with a creep.

All guesses and conjectures are ludicrous. Nobody knows the inside of a marriage. Nobody can dissect love and describe the pathology of loyalty.

We need empathy

What do these disparate events have in common? Not much, perhaps. But one thing: The tendency to assume we know what it’s like to be another. No, that’s not it: The tendency to judge another based on what we assume and/or presume.

We assume our perspective—our worldview built upon personal experience, training and culture—is normative. Then we judge others by what we feel and believe, failing to account for the limits of our understanding.

For example, many white Americans downplay racism because we fail to see our communities and nation from the perspectives of people of color. We don’t know what we don’t know, but we judge others as if we did. Similarly, many Americans treat the failure, pain and shame of others as sport, as foils for comedy, as entertainment. Decency compels us to grieve with those who grieve and desire privacy for those who are humiliated.

We can’t see clearly into the lives of others. We can’t know what it’s like to be them. But we can empathize. We can try to identify with them.

Christians, of all people, ought to work at this. We look to a divine Role Model. Jesus—fully God—took on human form in part to identify with our humanity. We must identify with the humanity of others. And while Jesus’ identification resulted in the possibility of full redemption, at least we can take steps toward redemption and reconciliation.

One of the great challenges of following Jesus involves learning from estranged Christians and—gasp!—unbelievers. Most Christians believe we possess divine truth. So, we’re naturally disinclined to receive truth from “others.”

But we err when we discount their veracity out of hand. We rob ourselves of vital lessons, and we rob them of dialogue that may help them glimpse God’s truth.

Editor Marv KnoxThis is valid for at least two reasons. First, all truth is God’s truth, and God tends to spread truth promiscuously, much like the Sower in Jesus’ parable. Second, people can express truth, even when their words are subject to dispute. The passion conveyed in questionable comments often is poignantly true.

This summer, I’ve learned from non-Christians and people who once believed. They sent me emails after I wrote editorials about Texas’ new abortion law. The first editorial called on Texas Christians to get ready to help take care of the babies who will be born because of the law. The second editorial presented common reactions to the first editorial.

Along the way, I received personal and often painful emails. They expressed surprise to find an empathetic discussion of abortion and at-risk children and mothers on a Baptist website. They came from people who, for the most part, carry emotional scars inflicted by Christians.

I’ve decided to share excerpts of those emails with you. Prepare to be shocked. Most likely, you’ll disagree with what they say, or at least how they interpret what they have seen. But read nondefensively. Try to learn from their experiences and recognize how to embody the presence of Jesus to people who have been hurt by Christians.

We might be stoned

“I married a boy from a good Baptist home, his father a minister of the gospel. We went to church. We embraced it all, and when our children were born, we took them before the congregation and ‘gave them back to God.’ We were there every time the doors were open. But then the Sunday school teachers kept bringing up politics, and we came to realize we just didn’t fit in to that church anymore. If, heaven forbid, they found out we were dirty, filthy liberals, we might be stoned. …

“I personally consider myself a Christian and have a very clear daily dialogue with Jesus. But my husband has pretty much become an atheist. …

“The church will never be what you describe, because the majority of members really do enjoy the ‘I’m better than you because …’ part of it.”

“Holier than thou”

“I left the Baptist church after 55 years due to the irresponsibility shown towards poverty and due to the ‘holier-than-thou’ tactics of congregants.”

Proud to renounce Christianity

“I gave up on Christians long ago. … I place my faith in your continued failure. Maybe if you loved more and hated less … we might all be in a better place. I am proud to renounce my Christianity and dissolve any ties to that organization.”

Judgment vs. compassion

“I have never doubted the compassion of the Christ, but many of his followers believe in judgment rather than compassion. I hope that this editorial is a sign of much-needed change.”

Turned away

“The hypocrites in religion have turned so many, like me, away from organized religion. If the pro-birth members of the GOP were to write such an editorial, they would replace ‘babies’ with the word ‘parasite.’

“While I remain firmly pro-choice, I feel if everyone who is not had your rational mindset, we would have little need to argue. We waste too many resources on this struggle, resources that could go to supporting mothers and families who find no or little choice available to them.”

Perspective from a pro-lifer

“I came with a group that offered pregnancy counseling services from a Christian perspective. …

“There was way too much quoting of Scripture to a secular crowd that had no point of reference. It was as if we were speaking Chinese to them! …

“I was appalled that a preacher at the rally at the Capitol said to the crowd, ‘Whether the folks in orange realize it or not, they are tools of Satan.’ I watched the pro-choice folks …, and I was ashamed I was in blue. … Yelling that in the public square makes them recoil in hate and widens the divide.

“Before we roll up our sleeves to take on the task ahead of us, I know we must get on our knees and repent of our disdain of those who are ‘not like us.’ Our first order of business as the church in Texas is to be filled with the Spirit of God so we can truly love the lost and show compassion. Otherwise, our work will be nothing more than a clanging cymbal. We must remember the Lord’s kindness leads to repentance. They will know we are Christians by our love.”

Pro-birth, not pro-life

“In my four years at (a Texas Baptist university), I witnessed a lot of hypocrisy by some of my fellow students who would proclaim a moral high ground because of their Southern Baptist affiliation and yet fail to treat their fellow humans with respect and kindness. For a girl who grew up with ‘And they will know we are Christians by our Love’ as her favorite hymn and thought the Golden Rule trumped any kind of denominational in-fighting, it was devastating. …

“For the non-Christian population—and even for many from the less theologically conservative end of Christianity—a single-minded political fervor and legislative impetus to ensure every baby is born, while there is either silence on or advocacy for the reduction of services and resources that help a child … does look like the only value is pro-birth, and not at all pro-life.”

Success questionable

“I fear the people who supported the bill the most have the least care about taking responsibility for the consequences that will naturally follow.

“We do indeed need to get ready to take care of these babies. However, based on how we take care of those already with us, I question how successful we will be with the ‘help’ of our Texas Legislature.”

“I’ll take my chances with hell”

“The majority of those who claim to be Christians are actually just materialistic, feel-good-on-Sunday Pharisees. …

“I hope you and every other Baptist answers before God someday for the suffering you are going to cause and have already caused by curtailing contraceptive availability. … While reducing abortion availability may have some argument, reducing availability of contraceptives to poor working women does not, and you and your lot are responsible for that as well. And increased contraceptive availability is proven, statistically, to reduce abortions! Yet it was de-funded! …

“Be proud and smug about yourselves. You can claim every poor woman’s death now as your own personal ‘kill,’ like in some sort of childish video game. Be proud of your body count, because that is what you’ve created.

“I don’t know if there is a God or not, Mr. Knox. But if there is and if that … group—mean-spirited, hypocritical—embodies what he represents, I think I’ll take my chances with hell.”

The way backwards

“We can thank Texas for leading the way backwards toward a Christian version of Sharia law, where woman are marginalized baby factories, under the thumbs of their male-dominated society. Because that’s what the Legislature really wants, isn’t it?

“Are we so out of touch with reality to think that politicians—the most protected and corrupt members of our society—are looking to make the lives of women and children ‘better’? No.”

Marching in lockstep

“I’m continually shocked this decade by the hostile actions … against women, children, minorities, and immigrants. And I’m further dismayed by the Christian Right, who marches lockstep behind them. Do they believe Jesus would really treat people this way?”

Lack of Christian compassion

“I am very concerned about the lack of compassion and assistance that is offered by Christians to those who are marginalized by today’s culture.

“About 15 years ago, I applied for and received public assistance for me and my two children for about a year. … I worked three part-time jobs at the time and was very grateful for food stamps and health care. … I was not lazy, uneducated or unmotivated, and I have never felt a sense of entitlement. I feel both sad and resentful when my ‘friends’ and ‘peers’ speak with such scorn, anger and bitterness about those who receive benefits.

“I can honestly say that no one ever offered to help in any way with my (autistic) son—not even to offer to stay with him while I bought groceries. … I can guarantee that no one who adamantly opposes abortion would be willing or able to care for my son. …

I have wondered many times whether my son would have been more fortunate if I had, in fact, had an abortion. I cannot imagine life without him, but I can certainly understand a woman seriously considering that option for an unborn child. …

“And I frequently find, as I get older, that I question exactly where God can be found in the Christian culture of today.”

Final thoughts from Marv …

Do these comments break your heart as they broke mine? You may be angry with me for publishing them, or for publishing them without refuting them point-by-point. That’s your right. But I hope you tuned in to the pain and agony they expressed. The truth of these statements lies in the experiences of the people who shared them. Their pain and sense of estrangement comprise a reality—a truth—with which we must deal.

Several times, I responded to these dear people: “I’m so sorry for your pain. If I had been treated as some Christians apparently treated you, I don’t doubt I would feel as you do now. I hope and pray you will encounter kind and compassionate Christians who will embody Jesus’ love for you. Millions of them are scattered all over the world. And even the sweetest and gentlest only dimly reflect divine compassion.”

You may be thinking, “I’m not the kind of Christian who turned these people away from God.” I pray you’re right. But all of us need to strive daily to express Christian love into a hurting world. And thinking kind thoughts isn’t enough. We must express that love tangibly and practically. Taking care of babies, children, mothers and pregnant women is an excellent place to start.

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?