How should we—finite human beings—determine, much less claim, the will of infinite God Almighty?

The question arose with robust regularity across the past few months. At least three politicians indicated they decided to run for president of the United States because God told them to. If this struck you as a bit baffling, and perhaps outright ironic, raise your hand. Me, too.

Why would God tell three people to run for president at the same time? We can look at this situation from at least two perspectives. First, give them the benefit of the doubt and acknowledge each candidate heard God clearly, and God wanted all of them to run for president. In this case, isn't God acting as a bully? The only political contest I ever lost was for vice president of my sophomore class in high school, and that hurt like crazy. It's hard to imagine the psychological beating a losing U.S. presidential candidate must endure. A God who tells someone to sustain the rigors of a presidential campaign only to suffer the disappointment of defeat isn't very nice. Second, consider the logical conclusion that at least a couple of the candidates misunderstood. God did not tell them to run for president. Then how could leaders who feel wise enough to be president get something so important so wrong?

Obviously, one's sense of self gets involved in life's biggest decisions. We don't need presidential candidates to illustrate that fact. Have you ever considered a major life judgment—say, whether to marry this particular person, or buy precisely that house, or take that specific job—from a purely spiritual perspective? Me, neither, even though I've sincerely tried on many occasions. Always, my own self interest competes with my discernment of divine will. Try as I might to account for my ego, my own pecadilloes and perspectives, I always acknowledge they play a part in determining the decision.

More and more, I identify with the aged rabbi who participated in an interfaith dialogue with a group that included an energetic and demonstrative young Christian pastor. The pastor dominated each discussion, confidently proclaiming God's position on every issue. After many hours of talks, the wise old rabbi turned to a friend and admitted, "I'm never as certain about anything as that young man is about everything." Through the years, I've learned to allow my suspicion to rise in direct proprotion to the certainty with which someone claims to know God's will.

Still, one of the main tasks of the Christian life is figuring out WWJD—What would Jesus do? When our faith is purest, we want to make decisions that are congruent with God's will and plan for our lives.

No process is perfect, but we can take several steps that help:

• Stand under Scripture. Baptists say we are "people of the book," and so we turn to the Bible when we make major decisions. Do specific Scripture passages speak to the choices we must make? Of course, most of our major life decisions are so specific, Bible passages don't address them. But the principles we gain from the Bible help us: Which choice will give the most glory to God? Which reflects love for God and others? Which leads us to serenity of spirit? Which enables us to serve others—to be a better parent, or spouse, or friend? Which blesses others?

• Sit in community. Jesus gave us family and the church for several good reasons, but one of the best is corporate discernment. No, we don't take every personal decision to a church business meeting. But if we live in close community with Christian family members and other Christians, we can lean on a valuable resource for evaluating the options that shape our lives.

• Kneel in humility. Absolute certitude weaves an inescable straightjacket. If we claim we are 100 percent sure God told us to do something and it doesn't work out, we embarrass ourselves and undermine God's credibility. But if we are willing to say: "I sense God's leadership. Perhaps I'm wrong, but I'm heading this way," then we remain free to walk in the light of fresh revelations.

—Marv Knox is editor of the Baptist Standard. Visit his blog at baptiststandard.com.

A friend who "gets" me recently emailed a link to a fascinating video. It's a lecture from the TED Talks series by Susan Cain, an attorney-turned-author of the new book Quiet: The Power of Introverts in a World That Can't Stop Talking. Cain acknowledges the "Extrovert Ideal" dominates our culture. It casts outgoing, gregarious crowd-lovers as natural, successful leaders. But she speaks up on behalf of introverts, "one-third to one-half of the population … (who) prefer quieter, more low-key situations."

"When it comes to creativity and leadership, we need introverts," Cain claims. Her manifesto states: "There's a word for 'people who are in their heads too much'—thinkers" and my personal favorite, "It's OK to cross the street to avoid making small talk."

People who only know me casually typically think I'm an extrovert. This is a common projection upon people who have some form of public role. We speak to hundreds of people, write words read by thousands, perform before crowds. And so folks assume someone who enjoys doing that must be extroverted.

Of course, that's not the measure of extroversion or introversion. The key to realizing whether you're an introvert or an extrovert is figuring out where you draw energy. This is a bit oversimplified, but it's as easy as understanding whether you "charge your batteries" by jumping into a crowd or by getting away alone.

Both introversion and extroversion are value-neutral. Neither is inherently right or wrong. Even Cain, ever the introvert, concedes the world needs extroverts, too.

But here's a secret I've never told anybody: For most of my life, I refused to acknowledge I'm an introvert. The reason was simple; I thought introversion was sinful. That's because of how Baptists and other evangelicals typically practice evangelism. When I was growing up and in college, the blue-ribbon Christians were the back-slapping soul-winners who actually enjoyed spending the day at Six Flags or on busy downtown intersections so they could pass out tracts and stop total strangers to tell them about Jesus. This always scared the bejabbers out of me. Not because I was ashamed of Jesus or afraid someone would punch me. I just never felt comfortable striking up conversations with people I'd never met. Later, as a journalist, I covered scores of sermons in scads of evangelism conferences, where the tried-and-true tales always highlighted the speakers, who inevitably witnessed for Jesus to waiters, cab drivers and the person in the next seat on the airplane. The subtext of their message remained the same: If you're not Bible-whacking people you've never met, you're just not serving the Lord.

The other day, I met a friend for lunch. I admire this guy. He's a great pastor/preacher, and his church is serving all kinds of people and changing lives. He's the Real Deal.

Somehow, we got to talking about the Cain video and introversion, and I confessed: "I love my church. But some Sunday mornings, I try to figure out how I can walk from my car to my 'regular' pew without having to talk to anyone." My friend laughed out loud. "We ought to be in the same support group," he chortled. This guy. Fantastic pastor. Like me.

Before you get too riled, hear me: We need extroverted soul-winners. I love and admire them. We could use more of them.

The other reality is this: We also need introverts. And this: Introverts don't get a pass on evangelism. In fact, some of the best evangelists I've ever seen are quiet introverts. Cain's observations of introverts illustrates why they're effective:

• They listen. Like good counseling, some of the best soul-winning takes place when we give others space to tell their stories. In the telling, they see their need for Jesus.

• They pay attention. Everyone loves to be cared for. And folks who look intently see deep needs. This enables them to meet those needs—and heal in Jesus' name.

• They leave room in the spotlight for Jesus.

• They're creative. Christians who don't adopt traditional evangelism methods often come up with new ideas because they're willing to contemplate new opportunities.

Our Bible study class has been reading from the Old Testament prophet Amos in the weeks leading up to Easter. This is the season the church calls Lent, a period of preparation for commemorating Jesus' death, burial and resurrection. It's a time to feel the anguish of God's sorrow, inflicted by a wayward world. It's an opportunity to imagine Jesus' loneliness as he "set his face toward Jerusalem" and death on the cross. It's an occasion to empathize with all the pain and anger and hurt experienced today by people for whom justice and righteousness seem like fairy-tale dreams.

Amos prophesied on behalf of God 2,860 years ago. He preached in Israel, the northern kingdom, past its prime. Geo-political observers worried about the rising power of competing nations. Israel's leaders manipulated religion for personal and political gain. The gap between upper and lower classes widened, as the powerful exploited their positions for greater privilege, while the poor suffered.

Amos' sermons sound as if he could stand and deliver them today. Parents look across the social, political and economic landscape and worry about their children's future. Countries we once considered third-rate threaten us economically, scientifically and technologically. Our politicians make a mockery of religion, and more distressing, the pastors who should think and act theologically enable them. And the economic forces driving our country reward an ever-smaller and ever-richer elite, while more and more working families fall into poverty, subsist on food pantries and eke out existence one paycheck away from homelessness.

The cover package in this edition of the Standard focuses on poverty in America. Here are a few facts:

• U.S. poverty is the highest it's been in 50 years.

• We're still the richest nation in history, but our poverty rate exceeds all Western industrialized nations.

• A record 45.7 million Americans survive on what we used to call food stamps.

• If faith groups were to take over the five key government programs that assist the needy, each congregation would need to add $1.5 million to its annual budget.

• The latest national budget offered to Congress would redistribute wealth upward, increasing poverty while cutting programs that assist the neediest Americans.

One particularly dispiriting aspect of reporting the status of poverty in America is recognizing the fact many Baptists and other Americans who claim the name of Christ are more offended by a report about poverty and injustice than they are by poverty and injustice themselves.

Every time I advocate on behalf of government programs designed to meet the needs of the most vulnerable members of our society, readers respond that poverty alleviation is not the government's job, and the church should do it. Well, at least now we know the cost. Does your church contribute $1.5 million to help the poor, the aged, the ill and children in awful conditions? Do you give your fair share of that $1.5 million?

Obviously, congregations can't do it alone. We the people share responsibility to those on whose behalf Amos advocated and whom Jesus called "the least of these." Of course, we should reward hard work and ingenuity and provide incentives for business to grow. And we certainly praise generous philanthropists.

But if we're going to break the cycle of poverty and also allow our nation to prosper, we must provide immediate care for the most vulnerable, solid education for all, affordable health care and decent wages so working parents can raise their children in hope and security. We must offer both training and mentors—to parents as well as children—so we can reset generational attitudes that contribute to poverty. And we must supply realistic opportunities for all people to live safe, decent, modest lives.

Some may protest that poverty and income disparity are ancient problems. They afflicted Israel in Amos' day, and they probably will be around another 2,860 years. That is correct. But remember this: The people who heard Amos' message didn't care. And so God allowed their nation to fall and their children to be carried into captivity. God despises empty religion and punishes selfishness and apathy.

—Marv Knox is editor of the Baptist Standard. Visit his blog at baptiststandard.com .

Thanks to politics, religion keeps grabbing headlines.

• Surveyed just prior to their presidential primaries, 52 percent of Mississippians and 45 percent of Alabamians indicated they believe President Obama—who speaks frequently about his Christian faith—is a Muslim.

• The Pennsylvania chapter of American Atheists set off a racial storm when it posted a billboard featuring a black man wearing an iron collar with the caption "'Slaves, obey your masters'—Colossians 3:22." The atheists said they sponsored the sign to protest the Pennsylvania House of Representatives' resolution declaring 2012 "The Year of the Bible."

Editor Marv Knox

• Republican presidential candidate Rick Santorum made headlines when he told audiences President Kennedy's 1960 address advocating church-state separation made him want to "throw up."

• A strong subtext of this year's presidential race is Mitt Romney's Mormon faith. Polls show significant numbers of Americans, particularly in the South, are suspicious of Mormons. That fact fueled Santorum's candidacy, holding on for primaries not only in Alabama and Mississippi, which he won, but across the South and Southwest.

• The Obama administration's healthcare mandate requiring contraception coverage in employer-funded health care programs not only infuriated Roman Catholic bishops, whose doctrine opposes contraception, but Protestants who believe the mandate manhandled constitutional protections for religious liberty. Countering those protests, other Christians contended the policy supports the moral responsibility to provide adequate health care for women.

Those are just a few of the latest dispatches from the faith-foments-furor front. No doubt, you can recall other illustrations. Wherever you turn, it seems, you see Americans arguing about religion. Small wonder, then, the fastest-growing religious group in the nation is composed of the "nones," or people who say they have no religious affiliation.

This poses a problem for Baptists and other evangelicals, who believe ultimate meaning, fulfillment and salvation are found in a personal relationship with God, available through faith in Jesus. How can we help others draw near to God when "religion" repulses people? We must adopt and maintain characteristics quite uncommon in this age dominated by culture clashes. We need:

• Concise clarity. Unfortunately, many people who rage against Christianity simply don't understand it. They're confused. If we viewed our faith as they do, we'd hate us, too. We need to help them see Christianity clearly. And we must get at it concisely, because if we take too long, we lose.

For example, "Slaves, obey your masters." No 21st century Christian advocates slavery, and we don't believe the Apostle Paul did, either. To counter erroneous Scripture citations, we must explain the Bible and its cultural context. And we must learn to apply it to today, so people don't hate God simply because they misunderstand divine nature.

• Compelling control. This isn't about manipulating others or managing debates. It's about controlling ourselves. Many people form an inaccurate image of Jesus because they accurately analyze people who claim to represent him. Even when we disagree with others, we must be winsome in our attitudes and kind in our spirit. We must exercise discipline to remain gentle and Christlike, even in adversity.

• Courage and compassion. Cowardly Christians hurt our witness. The rarest bravery is the courage to call out our own tribe. We must confront fellow Christians whose meanness, judgmentalism and arrogance drive wedges between Creator and creatures. And we can demonstrate Jesus' love by compassionately caring for others—by tangibly expressing his grace through the words we say and the deeds we do. Of course, Christians already practice many acts of care. But if we bring Christlike compassion to politics and the public square, we can change the world.

—Marv Knox is editor of the Baptist Standard. Visit his blog at baptiststandard.com.

A couple of weeks ago, I wrote a blog about giving up anger for Lent. You're probably familiar with the practice of forgoing favorite "things" during the weeks leading up to Easter. Every year, I know friends who abstain from items they savor—usually, it's chocolate, or coffee, or cheeseburgers, a favorite TV show, stuff like that—beginning Ash Wednesday and extending through Holy Week. This year, the Lenten season spans from Feb. 22 to April 8.

Unlike many Baptists, particularly those who share my naturally provincial perspective, I have learned to take significant spiritual nourishment by following the church calendar. It not only reminds us to observe Christmas and Easter, but also Advent, Lent and Pentecost, as well as daily and weekly Scripture readings from the lectionary. Baptists' resistance to these faith practices generally stems from our historic adversarial relationship with the Roman Catholic Church. But that's a poor reason; the church calendar transcends denominational differences. Following its rhythms and pondering its nuance can stimulate spiritual exploration and growth. It also symbolizes our solidarity with the church universal and enables us to learn from Christian sisters and brothers who live beyond our Baptist borders.

So, to use an old-timey Baptist word, I felt convicted about my anger as Ash Wednesday approached. That's not to say I wasn't provoked. In the days leading up to Lent, evangelist Franklin Graham acted as if he owns the Lamb's Book of Life, pronouncing his opinion about the salvation—or damnation—of presidential candidates. And then the Southern Baptist Convention announced it wouldn't officially change its name, but its members could call themselves "Great Commission Baptists." As if they cornered the evangelism market. True to form, I got angry with my fellow Christians whose judgmentalism and arrogance embarrassed me in public, out in front of my non-Baptist, not to mention non-Christian, friends.

But then I felt badly about the sin of my own judgmental anger. Whether or not I agree with other Christians is beside the point. In fact, we may disagree significantly about doctrine, tactics, politics and church practice. But when I nurture anger against them, it's like one part of the body despising another. "And besides, getting angry is hard work" I explained. "It's constricting work. And it resists God's grace, which I treasure more with each passing day."

A friend sent me an email, suggesting I'd bitten off more than I could chew—at least at one time. "I suggest you start with resentment, then work up to disappointment and then hostility. Save anger for the last week in Lent," he wrote. "No sense blowing all your remorse on just one shade of the emotion. Make it a journey through the dark side. You'll feel ever so much better if you space it all out."

My friend offered solid advice, which I've been following, except I took the liberty of reversing part of his order. I backed off anger but focused first on disappointment. It's the coolest of those four emotions, growing as it does out of grief. In my case, the first step toward anger began with disappointment that fellow Christians failed to behave appropriately. I expect more of them, and so disappointment blends sadness with revulsion. Now, I'm working on resentment, which no doubt grows out of jealousy that these badly behaving brothers captured such a bright spotlight while more winsome saints serve in the shadows. Soon, I'll turn my attention toward hostility, saving anger for Holy Week. I'm praying to learn lessons of humility, forbearance and repentance not only for anger, but also for the other actions in my life I despise in others.

My friend's advice provides a helpful template for other Lenten journeys. What's your spiritual struggle? Rather than attempting to defeat it all at once, consider the thoughts and actions that lead up to and enable your sin. Prioritize them, beginning with the most accessible and easiest to overcome. Then work your way up to your primary challenge.

Engage the power of incremental progress. Your journey to Easter will be fuller, richer and more productive.

Marv Knox is editor of the Baptist Standard. Visit his blog at baptiststandard.com.

President Obama's latest run-in with U.S. Catholic bishops provided what parents like to call a "teachable moment." Whether Americans learned a lesson is anybody's guess.

Here's what happened: The Department of Health and Human Services ruled employee insurance plans must cover contraceptive costs. Although the mandate exempted churches and other houses of worship, it did not provide passes to organizations with indirect religious affiliations, such as universities and hospitals. The bishops protested, since Catholic dogma prohibits contraception, and the ruling would require their institutions to provide the benefit. This set off a larger protest, from Protestants and Catholics alike, who stressed the new policy would violate church-state separation and religious liberty. Eventually, the Obama administration recanted. It broadened the exemption so that religious organizations are not required to provide contraceptives and sterilization services to their employees.

This episode highlights at least four truths:

• Concern for the greater good is noble. The contraception mandate began as an effort to reduce unwanted pregnancies. Acknowledge the Obama administration's ham-handed implentation, but give credit for positive intention.

Everyone who hopes to reduce the number of abortions should favor universal access to contraception. Of course, many Christians and others do not condone sex outside of marriage. And some fear birth control availability implies endorsement of premarital sex. But not every unintended pregnancy occurs outside of marriage. And denying contraception isn't going to stop unmarried people from having sex any more than removing seatbelts from fast cars is going to stop teen drivers from speeding. Both are asinine assumptions. So, contraceptive coverage seeks the greater good, and it should be available except when doing so violates religious conscience.

• We must respect minority positions and preserve religious liberty. Ironically, for all their power, the Catholic bishops staked out the minority position. Multiple surveys show 98 percent of American Catholics practice birth control. And a Public Religion Research Institute survey revealed 58 percent of Catholic laity join a majority of Americans in supporting the contraception-coverage requirement in health plans.

Still, even though the vast majority of Americans—Catholics included—do not believe contraception is a sin, the bishops believe it. Their religious liberty should be protected. Baptist champions of soul freedom appropriately lead the charge for safeguarding the bishops' right to follow their faith, even if it seems misquided at times.

Hypocritically, however, many Protestants —some Baptists included—who stood up for the bishops have not lifted their voices to support religious liberty of Muslims. No wonder their protests sounded tinny and partisan.

• When conflict crescendos, cooperate and compromise. As protests mounted and debate raged, Health and Human Services announced an "accommodation" to its policy. It exempted religiously affiliated organizations—most specifically Catholic hospitals and universities—from the contraception coverage mandate. The follow-up plan takes into account the religious organizations' conscience-based reservations and involves a third-party health company in the coverage.

• Especially in an election year, don't take what politicians say too seriously. If we could convert political hyperbole to cash, this debate would have eliminated the national debt. The bishops aren't as treacherous as advocates of universal contraception coverage claim. And the Obama administration did not trample the religious feelings of all Catholics as its adversaries aver.

As a nation, we must uphold two longstanding values—the health and welfare of all residents and their religious liberty, too. Unfortunately, the pols did precious little to advance these causes, but a beneficial outcome prevailed anyway.

—Marv Knox is editor of the Baptist Standard. Visit his blog at baptiststandard.com.

Once upon a soggy time, late-winter snowmelt and early-spring rains gorged the big river. As waters rose, the sheriff dispatched a deputy in a big four-wheeler to fetch the bachelor farmer who lived on a remote bend in the river, where a weak levee threatened to burst.

"Naw," the farmer said, declining the deputy's offer of evacuation. "I'm praying for the Lord to deliver me."

When the levee broke, a neighbor floated over in his pontoon and found the old farmer hitched up in his hayloft.

"Thanks anyway," he told his friend, turning down a second offer of security. "I'm praying for the Lord to deliver me."

Later, a National Guard motorboat gunned against the rapids to reach the farmer, crouched on the crown of the roof.

"Appreciate it," he said to the young officer. "But I'm praying for the Lord to deliver me."

Well, the barn broke apart, and the farmer drowned. A moment later, he glared at God in heaven, mad as a wet rooster.

"Lord, I prayed and prayed for you to deliver me," he shouted. "Where were you?"

"I sent the deputy, your neighbor and the National Guard," God Almighty told him. "If you're too stubborn to accept my help, then you get what you deserve."

OK, that's an old joke. But it's hung around because it raises a good point: Faith is fine, but actions matter, too. Or put another way:?How much of our lives is God's responsibility, and how much is ours?

This issue surfaced in our Bible study class recently. We've been studying the Gospel of Matthew, and we got to the part of the Sermon on the Mount where Jesus instructs his followers not to worry. "Therefore I tell you, do not worry about your life, what you will eat or drink; or about your body, what you will wear. Is not life more than food, and the body more than clothes?" he teaches.

The full passage (Matthew 6:25-34) struck a chord with our class. Every week, concerns about jobs stand out on our prayer list. In the days leading up to our discussion, one member got hurt and learned he will be out of work, and income, for four to six weeks. Another got laid off in yet-another downsizing. Meanwhile, we still prayed for three others seeking work. These are fine, conscientious, steady young adults. And sometimes, the line between paycheck and pain is razor-thin. Besides caring deeply for these friends, I relate to similar anxiety. Although my job is secure, I'm responsible for raising $5 million to build and launch FaithVillage.com, a social-networking resources website for teens and young adults, which God laid on our organization. We've raised more than 40 percent of our goal, but we have a long way to go, the need for the ministry is great, and we can't print money in the basement.

Yet Jesus says, "Don't worry." He adds, "Seek first (God's) kingdom and his righteousness, and all these things will be given to you as well." We believe this. But we also know righteous Christians who remain unemployed, some who starve and others who get sick and die. We have watched faithful Christians lose their homes. We have seen vital ministries fail.

Still, Jesus says, "Don't worry." How?

One of our members cited the sage advice of his grandmother: Worry is (a) unproductive, because if you can do anything about the situation, then worry merely detracts from getting on with your task, and it is (b) pointless, because if you can't do anything about the situation yourself, then all you can do is leave it in God's hands.

On top of this, worry is idolatrous. When we worry, we assume we possess the power and authority to control our condition. Of course, we are responsible for our part. Like the flooded farmer, we can accept deliverance and get in the boat. The writer of Ecclesiastes admonishes us to "do with all your might" what we can do. But Jesus commands us to orient ourselves with God's will and then trust God.

Worry is one of the most insidious sins. It saps our faith, distracts us from doing what we can and blinds us to God's grace among us. Don't worry. But get to work.

Marv Knox is editor of the Baptist Standard. Visit his blog at baptiststandard.com.

David Hardage said the right thing shortly after Texas Baptists' Executive Board elected him executive director.

"I don't know."

Only moments before, the Executive Board voted 69-1 to name him the Baptist General Convention of Texas' top staff member. Then Hardage climbed the back stairs of the Baptist Building in Dallas, sat down with Baptist Standard editors, and talked about his new job.

The conversation ran the gamut of issues confronting the convention. (See Managing Editor Ken Camp's news article here.) But when I looked back over my notes, I realized a dominant theme: His open acknowledgement he's got a lot to learn, and he's not bringing pre-packaged "fixes" to the job.

• Queried how he would reconcile disparate desires of small churches, which demand a broad array of convention resources, and larger churches, which have been shifting their ministry money to other causes, he said: "I don't know yet."

• Asked if he would develop a "compelling vision" to rally Texas Baptists around a singular cause or event, he replied: "Probably. What it will be, I don't know yet."

• Questioned about how he would evaluate programs and priorities in order to allocate budget funds most wisely, he noted: "I've got a pretty big learning curve. … I don't know yet."

These are terrific answers, for at least three important reasons.

First, they're honest. Texas Baptists' opportunities and challenges are ominous and complex. Nobody knows all the solutions. Any pretense otherwise is disingenuous and off-putting.

Of course, Hardage already knows quite a bit. He's the first executive director who has served in all three major spheres of Texas Baptist life—as pastor of congregations, director of an association of churches and staff member of a BGCT institution. He's visited and preached in hundreds of churches, knows associations well, and has witnessed both the incredible strengths and enormous needs of institutions. He knows a lot, but he doesn't pretend to carry around a briefcase full of fixes.

Second, those answers open the pathway for cooperative efforts at finding the solutions. The only way—the only way—to go about discovering those solutions is to (a) admit we don't know them yet and (b) invite Texas Baptists to join together to help find them.

Hardage stressed he wants to be a catalyst for enabling Texas Baptists to discover solutions to our common challenges and advance on our shared opportunities together.

"I plan to meet pastors and be in churches," he told Executive Board members just before their vote. "I would love for every Texas Baptist pastor to feel this is their building. I will open the doors to the executive director's office." An aside: He would do well to make sure laypeople know they are welcome. Engaged laity, with their range of experiences in business, education, the military, medicine and other "real world" vocations provide a wealth of often-overlooked resources.

One of his primary initial tasks will be "finding out what the churches need and providing it (with) high quality," he said in the interview.

Three, Hardage's "I don't know" answers evoke a sense of humility that, if it spreads, will do Texas Baptists a world of good. Pride and independence are the twin strands of Texans' DNA. And self-regard and autonomy are key ingredients of Baptists' chromosomes. So, when we combine our traits, we can tilt toward hubris and self-righteous isolationism. One of our biggest problems as a convention is we all want everything done our way. We're not very inclined to seek the common good. So, a dose of humility—embodied by our leader—will improve our predisposition.

Join me in praying for David Hardage and his wife, Kathleen, as he steps into this vital position. Lord willing, we'll discover answers and solutions together.

Marv Knox is editor of the Baptist Standard. Visit his blog at baptiststandard.com.

Election years present a challenge to Christian conscience: How should you express your faith with your ballot?

This winter and spring, Republican evangelicals and Catholics will confront an age-old version of that question. Will they entrust the country to a candidate whose religious beliefs they might describe as unorthodox, at best, and perhaps—if they concur with an infamous pronouncement by a Dallas pastor—cultish? Can they pull the lever for a Mormon, Mitt Romney or Jon Huntsman? Depending on how the primaries unfold, the broader electorate may ask themselves those questions.

The "Mormon issue" echoes the furious religious-political debate prompted by John Kennedy's presidential candidacy in 1960. Back then, widespread concern that the young war hero and Massachusetts senator might become the United States' first Roman Catholic president flooded the Baptist Standard. Many Baptists joined multitudes of non-Catholics in opposing Kennedy. They feared a Catholic president would take his marching orders from the papal hierarchy and obliterate church-state separation and religious liberty in America. They based their logic on the Catholic idea that salvation is dispensed through the church. So, a Catholic layman—even the president—would be required to obey the pope for fear of eternal damnation.

Standard Editor E.S. James wrote extensively about the election. Following his own convictions regarding church-state separation, James refused to endorse either candidate. But he exegeted the issue, insisting presidential loyalty to the U.S. Constitution should supercede loyalty to the papacy.

"There must be renunciation of allegiance to the foreign religio-political state at the Vatican, and there must be declaration of freedom of the clergy by American Catholic citizens," he stressed. "If that were done, we know of no reason why a Roman Catholic should not have the support of voters of all faiths." Just before the election, James reported: Catholic Kennedy "affirms again and again that he is definitely committed to the principle of separation of church and state, and that he is opposed to federal aid to parochial education or the appointment of an envoy to the Vatican."

Kennedy's Quaker opponent, Richard Nixon, "is vague, evasive and ambiguous about aid to parochial schools" and "favors federal aid to both public and private schools of higher learning." Ultimately, enough non-Catholics took Kennedy at his word to hand him the presidency.

In 2012, the issue isn't so much about candidates' fealty to the Mormon hierarchy as assent to ideas most Americans find unusual. Non-Mormons are asking (popularized, over-simplified and at times inaccurate) questions: Should a person whose beliefs involve special revelation written on tablets of gold and questionable anthropology lead the nation? Could a candidate whose thinking includes sacred underwear and the possibility of divinity provide sound leadership?

To be fair, secular commentators have noted orthodox Christian doctrine seems similarly wacky and illogical to millions of unbelievers. But since Mormonism stands outside the mainstream of American religion, the questions for Mormon candidates persist.

Fortunately, James' template for evaluating candidates is as valid today as it was more than a half-century ago. He recognized politicians' decisions are shaped by faith, but he acknowledged the Constitution guarantees they must not be limited by a religious test for office. Since governing essentially is a secular task, loyalty to the Constitution and commitment to church-state separation provide sufficient protection to ward off alarmists' fears.

Ironically, ultra-conservative evangelical Christians, who often confuse their personal convictions with public policy, pose the greater threat to religious liberty today. That's all the more reason voters in this election cycle should evaluate candidates on three vital characteristics—character, competence and the clarity of their positions. That is fodder for another editorial, which we'll have time to explore later.

This election year is young. Very young.

—Marv Knox is editor of the Baptist Standard. Visit his blog at baptiststandard.com .

For to us a child is born,

to us a son is given,

and the government will be on his shoulders.

And he will be called

Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God,

Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace.

(Isaiah 9:6)

What if we truly celebrated the birth of the Prince of Peace this Christmas? The implications would touch our lives far more personally and intimately than we might imagine.

To be sure, we witness the toxic evidence of war and violence everywhere we turn. Even as our nation winds down a war in Iraq, the United States continues to battle the longest war in our history, in Afghanistan. Brutality spawned by drug cartels has frightened visitors out of many regions of Mexico. Closer to home, daily news reports describe domestic abuse, shootings and road rage. This fall, our hearts broke as we learned how respected members of communities violated public trust and harmed innocent children.

Seen through this huge and glaring lens, we tend to look at peace as the absence of war, violence and abuse. This kind of peace merits pursuing with purpose and prayer. The world desperately needs fewer dangers such as these.

But as we examine our day-to-day lives, we realize we must seek a deeper, more subtle peace. As you probably know, the primary biblical term for peace is the Hebrew word shalom. Its meaning extends far beyond mere absence of fighting and strife. It also implies the presence of positive qualities, such as well-being and safety. It embraces the active presence of joy and satisfaction and fulfillment. Ultimately, its peace does not seek goodness and benefit for oneself but for the other.

Relatively few of us who read these words will fight in a war, stare down the barrel of a gun or mend from physical violence. But practically every day, simple low-level insidious forms of violence and conflict lacerate our lives and sear our psyches. Maybe it's the unnecessary and corrosive carping between spouses or the incessant spats between siblings. Perhaps its gossip in the neighborhood or church, and it might be infighting in the office. Sometimes, it's loud, obnoxious and obvious; often, it's incipient and almost invisible, but no less incendiary. On the one hand, yelling and berating and bitterness; on the other hand, teasing, subtle put-downs or exclusion. And also condescension, suspicious questioning, sharp rebukes. Verbal violence should be out of bounds in the Christian community. But it's the norm in so much of society, and sadly, church mirrors culture.

So, what if we truly celebrated the birth of the Prince of Peace this Christmas? What if we conducted an experiment in positive peacemaking from Advent through Easter?

Suppose we all monitor our minds and tutor our tongues, so that we speak only kindness and goodwill through the winter and the spring. Now, you might be thinking, "Surely, you can't expect me to agree with everything everyone does around me for four or five months." Of course not. But we can disagree agreeably. You might be saying: "Sometimes, people need a good talking-to. You don't know my kids, or my co-workers. They'll walk all over me." Well, being kind doesn't mean being a wimp. It means being soft-spoken, gracious and considerate, even in the face of fury.

Soon, we'll gather with family and joyfully mark Jesus' birth. Then we'll roll up the lights, pack up the tree and turn the calendar to a new year. That will be 2012, time for another round of elections and the kind of year that seems to spark incivility across our society. Think what could happen if Christians everywhere lived every day in the spirit of the Prince of Peace. We could change the culture, which could change history. And in the meantime, imagine the impact of sweet-spirited Christian peacemakers on our homes, in our workplaces and at our churches.

–Marv Knox is editor of the Baptist Standard. Visit his blog at baptiststandard.com.

We need Advent particularly badly this year. And not simply because it's a prelude to Christmas.

Advent marks the beginning of the church year and starts four Sundays before Christmas. Advent takes its name from the Latin word adventus, which means "coming." Advent is the season of waiting for and anticipating the coming of Jesus—God in the flesh—whose birthday, Christmas, ends Advent.

The four Sundays of Advent represent the eternal themes of the season—hope, love, joy and peace. Some Christians also consider each Sunday as representing the prophets, Bethlehem, shepherds and angels, or possibly prophets, John the Baptist, Mary and the magi. Many churches recognize the Sundays of Advent by lighting candles on a wreath, with each of the four candles representing a theme of the season. Usually, the candles for the first (hope), second (love) and fourth (peace) Sundays are purple, and the third-Sunday candle (joy) is pink or rose. On Christmas eve, worshippers light the white Christ candle in the center of the wreath.

Our family began observing Advent 30 years ago, when my wife, Joanna, and I lived in another state, where I attended seminary. The solemn, reverential, expectant nature of waiting for Jesus' arrival captivated our hearts and enthused our imaginations. Our eventual celebration of the arrival of the Christ child meant far more to us because we spent about a month thinking about the needs of a hurting world and how they could be transformed by the arrival—advent—of God in human flesh. Jo and I bought a plaster advent "wreath" and commemorated Advent at bedtime throughout the years our daughters were growing up. Lindsay and Molly still would tell you those Advent evenings around the wreath—lighting candles, reading stories, saying prayers and singing carols (some purists would say we should have held off on carols until Christmas Eve)—comprise one of their best childhood memories.

Some Baptists and other Protestants oppose observing Advent because it sounds "too Catholic." I see where they get it, what with candles, colors, rituals, metaphor and all. But this misses the point, and it denies worshippers the opportunity to experience rich, fervent spiritual evidence of God's active, redemptive presence in the world. Ironically, some of the Christians who complain the loudest about the commercialization of Christmas and the secularization of the season miss out on an excellent opportunity to counter those forces when they decline to observe Advent.

That points to the reason we need Advent so desperately this year. It's counter-cultural. Sure, pushing against commercialism and secularism is part of it. But those concepts, while obvious, are sidelights compared to the primary issue.

Advent tells us to wait. It reminds us we're not in control; God is. Advent provides a structure for remembering that the world waited in lonely cosmic exile until the Messiah, Jesus, arrived to redeem us from our sins and the morass of our own making. And Advent suggests what was true 2,000 years ago remains true today. We do not set the agenda for our lives; God does.

We live in a society that hates to wait. That's because we inherently believe we— individually, each of us— are most important. We want to microwave our lives so what we desire happens immediately. We want gratification now. This is a symptom of deep-set selfishness as old as Adam and Eve and as current as Washington gridlock, the latest financial scandal and the National Basketball Association lockout.

The one issue Americans seem to agree on is that our society is in decline. The skids have been greased by selfishness. The demand to get what I want and to get it now is but a symptom of epidemic egotism that refuses to consider the common good. So we need to be reminded we are not the center of the universe; God is. Waiting is a good discipline for learning that lesson.

Take a deep breath. Light an Advent candle. And wait.

—Marv Knox is editor of the Baptist Standard. Visit his blog at baptiststandard.com.

"Can churches retain theological integrity and still find common ground among those with differing beliefs?"

That's the question presented by the cover story in this issue of the paper. And it mirrors a key question the board of directors and staff of Baptist Standard Publishing—our parent organization—have been asking for several years: Can a 123-year-old Baptist news organization create a website that will strengthen and expand the larger Christian community, particularly teens and young adults?

We believe the answer is a resounding Yes! So, we have spent more than three years praying, researching, thinking, cooperating and dreaming. Now, we are building FaithVillage, a website that will gather a vast online community of evangelical Christians, ages 13 to 44. FaithVillage will expand their personal faith, provide them with a broad range of excellent Christian resources, and enable them to contact and collaborate with each other in ways never imagined before.

Our research revealed the vast majority of young Christians access the Internet and spend much of their lives online. They told us they would like to use the web to strengthen their faith, but that's daunting. For starters, they must visit dozens of sites to find the range of resources they need—from inspiration, to Bible study, to missions and ministry, to growing in their faith, to strengthening relationships, to worship, and on and on. Beyond that, they don't have a clue what's trustworthy. And these lonely, disjointed treks into the Internet leave them feeling isolated and frustrated, rather than welcomed into the larger family of faith and encouraged.

As we listened to young Christians, we prayed. We asked God to give us a clear vision for how to build on our decades of strength as a Christian publisher so we can inform, inspire and empower them to grow in their faith and expand Jesus' kingdom. What we saw was FaithVillage.

Visitors to FaithVillage will stroll down four virtual "streets" in our community. Each building they see will house a unique channel of information about a particular aspect of faith or ministry. Each channel will be marked with a sign, much like you would see on a store or business facing a commercial street in your town. For example, Momentum will house church leadership resources, Scriptura will offer Bible study materials, Engage will involve participants in missions and ministry causes, Epic House will minister to college students, while Revolution will serve middle schoolers and high schoolers, and the Grove Theater will present videos. FaithVillage will be home to these and many other channels—providing participants with access to resources otherwise available only by visiting scores of different websites.

FaithVillage is built on a social networking infrastructure, so each member of the Village will receive a profile page. It will enable members to post photos and comments, create and participate in all kinds of groups, and easily share materials from throughout the Village. We're making FaithVillage available free to individuals and churches. So, congregations can use the groups function as the backbone of their communication with members individually, as well as teams, committees, Sunday school classes, small groups and staff. Imagine the value of operating your own free in-church communication network within a village of excellent, trusted resources.

If you'd like to visit FaithVillage, go to our blog website, www.faithvillage.com. Be sure to click the arrow in the FV TV box, and you can watch a six-minute video that will give you an excellent overview.

Meanwhile, we would be grateful if you would help us build FaithVillage. Please consider taking these faith steps:

• Most importantly, pray for FaithVillage and our team.

• Tell everyone you know who is 13 to 44 about FaithVillage, and show them the online video.

• Sign up as a charter member on our homepage or apply to become a free church partner (click the partnerships tab).

• If God leads, contribute to this vital venture.

You can contact me at mknox@faithvillage.com.

Marv Knox is editor of the Baptist Standard. Visit his blog at baptiststandard.com.