Soon, we will commemorate the most awkwardly and confusingly named day of the year—Good Friday.

What’s so “good” about the day Jesus suffered and died on the cross? All four Gospels tell the story of what happened on this particular Friday almost 2,000 years ago. This week, read the accounts from Matthew 27:27-28:8; Mark 15:16-16:19; Luke 23:26-24:35; and John 19:16-20:30.

Good Friday is the year’s most somber day. Some faith traditions allude to the agony of Jesus’ passion and call this day Black Friday. It is a day for prayer and fasting and repenting. It doesn’t feel “good.”

And yet Good Friday it is, because we would not celebrate Easter Sunday without it.

Tony Campolo, the sociologist, author and evangelist, has preached a sermon about Good Friday, quite literally around the world: “It’s Friday, But Sunday’s Comin’!”

The illustration that gives Campolo’s sermon its title comes at the end of a powerful, poignant discussion of God’s redemptive grace. The whole sermon is magnificent, and then he closes by telling about preaching at his home church in west Philadelphia, where he grew up. When he was young, the Baptist church was predominantly white, and now it’s mostly black, but he’s been a member there his whole life. Campolo jokes about how “good” he was that night but readily acknowledges his aged pastor preached a better sermon, taking one line and improvising on it for an hour and a half: “It’s Friday, but Sunday’s comin’.”

Here’s an excerpt of Campolo’s recitation of his pastor’s sermon:

“It’s Friday, but Sunday’s a comin’. It was Friday, and my Jesus is dead on a tree. But that’s Friday, and Sunday’s a comin’. Friday, Mary’s crying her eyes out, the disciples are running in every direction like sheep without a shepherd. But that’s Friday, and Sunday’s a comin’. Friday, those (enemies of Jesus) are looking at the world and saying: ‘As things have been, so they shall be. You can’t change nothing in this world! You can’t change nothing in this world!’ But they didn’t know that it was only Friday; Sunday’s a comin’. Friday, them forces that oppress the poor and keep people down, them forces that destroy people, them forces in control now, them forces that are gonna rule, they don’t know it’s only Friday, but Sunday’s a comin’. Friday, people are saying, ‘Darkness is gonna rule the world; sadness is gonna be everywhere,’ but they don’t know it’s only Friday, but Sunday’s a comin’. … Friday! But Sunday’s a comin’!”

This world has wallowed in a Friday funk for a while now. The economic crisis has people squeezing their wallets, wondering about their jobs, fretting about their homes, worrying about their future. Wars and genocide and terrorists tear at our consciences and bruise our psyches. Slavery and sex trafficking and poverty and disease break our hearts and leave us feeling impotent. Even those of us, like most Texas Baptists, who enjoy some measure of protection from the most extreme grievances humanity inflicts upon itself feel brittle, ill-at-ease, borderline hopeless.

Yes, it’s Friday. But Sunday’s coming.

We do not delude ourselves into thinking the risen Christ will make war and famine and disease and wickedness disappear. Not in the short term. But when we remember Christ endured Friday—death and descent into hell—and rose again on Sunday, we live in the certainty that God has won and will win the ultimate victory over evil.

Friday reminds us God physically descended into this fallen world. In Christ on Friday, God experienced complete brokenness and devastation. But on Sunday, the sun rose and the Son arose, and death and evil and destruction lost the battle for control of the world. On Easter Sunday, the day we await, God redeemed all our rebellion and transformed all our transgressions. We live in hope. Sunday’s comin’!

Horror novelist Stephen King doesn’t have anything on the American Religious Information Survey. Scary reading.

The survey polled more than 54,000 Americans regarding their religious identity, beliefs and behavior. You can read about it in this edition of the Standard, but here are some facts that go bump in the night of the American soul:

• The percentage of American adults who identify themselves as Christians has fallen 10 points since 1990—from 86 percent to 76 percent.

• The segment who claim no religious affiliation increased by 20 million and now represent 15 percent of the population.

Editor Marv Knox

• Only 70 percent of respondents said they believe in a personal God. The remaining 30 percent are either atheist/agnostic (12 percent), believe in a “higher power” but not a personal God (12 percent) or refused to answer (6 percent).

• Twenty-seven percent do not expect to have a religious funeral, indicating strong skepticism about heaven and hell.

Ethicist David Gushee of Mercer University has written an insightful essay, “The future of American Christianity,” based on the survey. I commend it to you.

Right now, I want us to think beyond our Baptist brand and consider the larger cause of Christ. Let’s ask the “So, what?” implications of the survey: So, what does this survey mean? So, what happens if these trends continue? So, what should we do about it?

This survey means U.S. Christians have done a lousy job of evangelism. If we truly helped people see the story of Christ is “good news” for their lives, then the percentage of the population who are Christ-followers would be multiplying, not dwindling.

Of course, one reason we stink at evangelism is because so few Christians actually practice it. Unbelievers can’t be expected to develop a relationship with Jesus unless Christians tell and show them how. But a major reason we have failed at evangelism is because so many Christians practice the wrong kind of evangelism. Much of what passes for evangelism sounds like “bad news” to unbelievers. No matter how it is intended, it comes off as confrontational, arrogant, judgmental and mean-spirited. Too often, Christians sound like Rush Limbaugh talking about Barack Obama, as if we hope they fail.

If these trends continue, Christianity will drift to the periphery of American life. The impact of Christianity on society will be lost. Worse, lives will be lost.

Fortunately, Christians, of all people, have hope. The “center” of Christianity is moving to the Southern Hemisphere, where Christians have only a fraction of the resources held by their sisters and brothers in America. If we get past our cultural captivity and trust the power of the Holy Spirit as they do, we can see a revival and a reversal of declining U.S. Christianity. In this task, we must engage our:

• Souls. It’s a pity this sounds so trite, but we need to pray more for America. If you track the movement of God anywhere in the world, you discover people of prayer.

• Bodies. We must get out among unbelievers and help them. Not surprisingly, externally focused churches are growing. These congregations expect of themselves nothing less than full-out service to others. For them, faith is about relationships and meeting needs.

• Minds. America’s culture wars have dumbed-down faith, just as they have turned up its volume. Our nation needs intelligent honesty from Christians. We can’t expect others to take us seriously unless we engage them respectfully and with intellectual integrity. We’re not likely to argue others into the kingdom of God, but we owe it to a secular world to see God’s realm embraces the mind as well as the heart.

The presidential search committee and the presidential search advisory committee have been named at Baylor University. Now, for the good of the “Baylor family,” they need to operate as if they were one committee.

The search committee is composed entirely of Baylor regents—14 of the 15 current regents who will remain on the board when its fiscal year ends this summer—who ultimately will vote to select the university’s next president. The advisory committee is composed of representatives of the Baylor Alumni Association, Faculty Senate, Student Government, Staff Council, Council of Deans, Waco community and Texas Baptists.

Admittedly, a discussion of committee selections at Baylor may seem like “inside baseball.” But given Baylor’s size and influence, the selection of the 14th president of the world’s largest Baptist university will be important to the academic community, the state of Texas, the Baptist General Convention of Texas, and churches whose future ministers and lay leaders will be educated in Waco for generations to come.

Baylor regents Chairman Howie Batson appointed the committees and resisted requests from the Baylor Alumni Association, Faculty Senate and Student Government to seat their representatives as voting members on the search committee. Batson told reporters he studied search processes at about 20 schools and acknowledged, “There is no one right way by which to conduct a search.” But he added both Baylor governing documents and guidelines of the Southern Association of Colleges and Schools, the university’s primary accrediting agency, stipulate “the governing board (regents) is responsible for the presidential selection.”

Advocates for the constituencies’ representation on the actual search committee have recognized the regents’ ultimate authority. But they also have contended the process would be more inclusive—and the ultimate nomination would receive greater buy-in—if representatives from across the Baylor family had an actual vote on the nomination.

That dispute is settled, now that separate committees have been named, and only regents have a seat on the search committee. However, the search committee could take a huge step toward long-term healing and harmony at Baylor if it would announce at its first meeting that it will meet simultaneously with the advisory committee, conduct straw polls in that group, and decline to nominate a candidate that does not receive the overwhelming support of the advisory committee. This would enable the regents to fulfill their fiduciary duties while at the same time giving all the constituencies a strong voice in Baylor’s future.

A key principle here is the difference between rights and responsibilities. Yes, the regents (and, by extension, the regents-only search committee) have the right to choose the next president. But they have a greater responsibility to do what’s best for Baylor. They could even elect the best candidate, but if they don’t nominate that candidate through the best process, the result won’t be best for Baylor.

When they elect a president, the regents will determine the future of Baylor. The university cannot afford for the regents to exert their rights at the expense of alienating alumni and donors, dividing faculty, marginalizing students, and ignoring its closest friends, Texas Baptists and Waco residents.

Fortunately, they can draw from recent positive patterns, when regents appointed Interim President David Garland and Interim Provost Elizabeth Davis last summer. Batson actively consulted with all Baylor constituencies. The result has been unusually strong support for two gifted leaders, and now a much-needed period of peace and progress.

The stakes are even higher in this new presidential search. The regents must do what’s best for Baylor.

Before you start this editorial, go read the news article I wrote titled “If your church disappeared, would anyone even notice?”

OK, you’re back. Let’s talk:

How would you go about implementing the kinds of service projects that comprise the core identity of Chase Oaks and LifeBridge Christian churches?

Tough question, huh?

(Just in case you didn’t read the article, here’s the deal: Leaders at Chase Oaks and LifeBridge asked themselves, “If our church disappeared, would anybody miss us?” They didn’t like the answer—“Probably not.” Problem was, they were like most churches. Through the years, they had geared all their programs toward serving and pleasing church members. They barely made an impact on their communities. So, they decided they had to change. They made service projects to the hurting and poor and disadvantaged a core component of what it means to be a member of their churches.)

In-between sessions of the Next Big Idea conference, I asked other participants a couple of questions. Our conversations went about like this:

Q. Do you think you can implement a comprehensive service program like Chase Oaks and LifeBridge?

A. It’d be pretty difficult.

Q. Why?

A. Sunday school.

Don’t get me wrong. I loved the presentations. These two congregations have ministered to thousands of people in their communities. God only knows how many people feel Jesus loves them because a group from Chase Oaks or LifeBridge lovingly tended to their physical needs. On top of that, the churches are booming. Many Christians these days resonate with the idea that their lives should be poured out, invested in others. So, they have flocked to churches where the emphasis transcends “What’s in it for me?”

But sometimes, I’m just too practical. Neither of these churches have adult Sunday school programs. (And, in case you’re up on the latest lingo, they don’t have adult Bible study programs, either.) They have small groups—now typically called life groups—that meet in homes sometime other than Sunday mornings.

At Chase Oaks, they’ve decided that every fourth time the life groups get together, they should meet at their ministry site and serve people outside their church.

My wife, Joanna, and I lead a young adult Bible study group. We meet—when else?—on Sunday morning. So, I got to thinking, if we did like they do at Chase Oaks, we would take 28 adults and seven children away from “church” once a month. I haven’t checked with our church staff, but I don’t think that would fly.

Still, I was impressed by the courage—even more than the creativity—of these and other churches, which have decided if they are going to “be” church, then they can’t let anything get in the way of their direct ministry to people outside their congregations. In many cases, that’s meant disassembling long-standing programs.

Church life is complicated these days. Although it’s not our intention, we often mirror our consumer culture. We design programs, products and services to please the faithful. That’s well-intentioned, and it’s not all bad. But it’s certainly not best.

If we’re going to make a difference on behalf of Christ in our communities across the state, then we’ve got to quit satisfying ourselves and start serving others.

That probably will mean re-thinking how we do church, paring programs and pushing ourselves outside our walls and into our communities. Next Sunday, ask this question: “If our church disappeared, would anybody notice?”

Is it too much to ask people to behave the same in private as they do in public?

I posed this question in a blog the other day and started by writing about Michael Phelps. You remember the Golden Boy of the 2008 Olympics. If you visited news websites in the past week, you probably saw a picture of Phelps with his face in a marijuana bong. As soon as that photo circulated, he owned up to his mistake. But he simultaneously forgave himself for acting “in a youthful and inappropriate way.” Phelps’ effort would fail to earn a bronze medal in the apology games. It sounds dispiritingly like the “I’m sorry if my actions offended you” line we hear so often. If you can’t apologize more earnestly than that, just don’t.

When I got home that night, my wife, Joanna, informed me I was disproportionately hard on young Phelps. He’s the greatest swimmer since Flipper, and his use of marijuana was wrong. But he’s only 23, and his actions were tame compared to many athletes his age. “You should have focused more intently on the politicians and business tycoons who have shamed themselves lately. They really should know better,” Jo said. As usual, she was right.

If we were playing the Who’s Hypocritical? game, you wouldn’t break a sweat to come up with a list. In fact, working together, we probably couldn’t keep up with all the new revelations.

We could start with politicians who have been bounced out of and/or otherwise embarrassed the Obama administration: Tom Daschle, nominated for secretary of health and human services, who failed to pay $146,000 in taxes; Nancy Killefer, up for chief White House performance officer, who didn’t pay taxes for a household employee; Bill Richardson, picked for commerce secretary but derailed by a federal investigation into his ties to a company that has done business with the state of New Mexico, where he is governor; and Timothy Geithner, who became treasury secretary despite failure to pay $34,000 in taxes a few years back.

The troubling thing about all these failures is that they aren’t a big surprise. Democrats are disappointed; Republicans are repulsed (and thrilled). But no matter who is in power, we eventually encounter a cadre of so-called leaders who live above laws they don’t particularly like. If these high-profile politicos—who should know the whole world watches them—skim on their taxes and break laws, it makes you wonder who else is skimming and breaking, too.

I could write reams about financial indiscretions of the titans of business and industry. A list of sexual failures by all kinds of famous people would fill a book. But you know their stories. And I’m trying to avoid a headache.

So, here’s the deal about ethics: We don’t expect much anymore. The unspoken-yet-acknowledged postmodern mantra seems to be, “Rules are made to be broken.”

Ironically, this could be a golden age for ethical Christian behavior. Why don’t we all come to understand that if we live lives of honesty, integrity and transparency, we validate the faith we proclaim?

One of my favorite Bible stories is recorded in Genesis 39. A young man named Joseph matured beyond his self-centered adolescence. When the world’s first cougar, Mrs. Potiphar, tried to seduce him, he literally ran the other way. He could have slept with his owner’s wife, and yet he did the right thing. Nobody would have known, and yet he did the right thing. It cost him dearly, and yet he did the right thing.

The rest of Joseph’s story describes how God honors integrity. Because Joseph stood for what was right, God enabled him to save Egypt and his entire family from famine—and perpetuate the line of people through whom God would send Jesus Christ into the world.

I wonder how many lives could be turned toward Christ if all Christians lived lives of honesty and integrity.

Marv Knox is editor of the Baptist Standard.

Stormclouds of discord and division blotted out the sunshine of optimism on Dec. 1, 1862, when Abraham Lincoln addressed Congress. The Civil War had raged almost 20 months, and the outcome appeared bleak. The future of the Union—and perhaps Western Civilization—hung in the balance. Few dared even to hope. And our 16th president spoke these words:

The dogmas of the quiet past are inadequate to the stormy present. The occasion is piled high with difficulty, and we must rise—with the occasion. As our case is new, so we must think anew and act anew. We must disenthrall ourselves, and then we shall save our country.

Those lines from that great speech resonated in my heart as actor Tom Hanks recited them in a ceremony leading up to the inauguration of our new president, Barack Obama. Like a melody that stirs the soul, the last sentence played over and over and over in my mind: “We must disenthrall ourselves, and then we shall save our country.”

Exactly a month after he spoke those words, President Lincoln signed the Emancipation Proclamation. Affixing his name to that seminal document, he freed the slaves throughout the Confederacy. Moreover, the proclamation transformed the Civil War from a struggle for the rights of states to a supreme battle for the freedom of all people who live in this nation. A practical and political exercise became a moral and spiritual endeavor.

The wisdom and resolve reflected in President Lincoln’s speech preceded—even made possible—the great act of freeing American slaves. “We must disenthrall ourselves, and then we shall save our country.” He signaled the call-and-response of human nature as well as history. The president, Congress and all leaders of the Union first had to free their minds, free their thinking, before they could set others free.

We don’t use the word “disenthrall” much anymore. It’s a verb that means “set free.” President Lincoln knew exactly what it meant. And just as he understood the strength of the right word, he understood the power of ideas whose time had come. He set the proper order of great actions: “ … so we must think anew and act anew. We must disenthrall ourselves, and then we shall save our country.”

Those long-spoken words resound in this winter because the times are similarly ominous. Few presidents have presided over as much peril as that which greets our new, young leader. Consequently, few generations have sailed such dire straits. Lincoln speaks wisdom that transcends decades: “Disenthrall yourselves, and then save our country.” Set yourselves free, and then you can be a beacon for freedom.

That’s sound advice for a nation. It also applies to congregations, as well as to individuals. We cannot expect to be of use to others until we ourselves are free. And from what should we seek emancipation?

• Prejudice. Because of prejudice, we make objects of people who are different from us. And because of prejudice, we blaspheme the image of God stamped into each human soul.

• Self-interest and greed. One begat the other. They both begat our present economic catastrophe.

• Fear. Most people think they’re afraid of other people. Really, they’re afraid of their own selves, their personal weaknesses. They’re frightened that their own beliefs and ideas will not stand up to scrutiny. They’re scared of being alone with themselves or, more frightening, alone with God.

• Laziness. Physical laziness is bad enough, but moral laziness is the fault that produced our collective inability to make hard decisions, to discipline ourselves for greater good.

Christians, of all people, should strive for true freedom. “If the Son sets you free, you will be free indeed” (John 8:36).

Happy Birthday, Baptists. Don’t faint trying to blow out all those 400 candles on your cake.

Of course, some Baptists contend we are celebrating our 1,983rd birthday—or something in that neighborhood. The exact number depends upon when they think John “the Baptist” and/or Jesus planted First Baptist Church of the Universe. Careful and reasonable readings of church history, however, suggest a tiny band of English Separatist exiles founded the first-ever Baptist church in 1609 in an Amsterdam bakery.

You can read all about the debate over when Baptists began, as well as other aspects of Baptists’ story, in this issue. To help us celebrate our four-century heritage, New Voice Media partners—of which the Baptist Standard is a grateful member—have compiled a package of Baptist history articles.

Right now, I want us to think about Baptists’ defining characteristic. Of course, the linguistically focused among us say it’s our insistence upon believer’s baptism by immersion. However, (a) Baptists didn’t always immerse, and (b) plenty of other groups also immerse. Some folks would say it’s our passion for missions and evangelism, and they can build a solid case. But scores, if not hundreds, of Christian groups promote missions and evangelism. Others say it’s our inclination toward cooperation, but the dissolution of southern U.S. Baptists debunks that notion.

So, I’d like to suggest the quality that, for 400 years, has made Baptists Baptist is—drumroll, please—dissent.

That’s right, our perpetual penchant for pronouncement-as-pugilism. Our enduring inclination toward discordant discourse. Our craving for cacophonous chaos. Our … well, you get the point.

Dissent comes naturally to Baptists. It’s part of our DNA, both theologically and historically.

From the theological side, Baptists are born dissenters because we affirm the twin doctrines of soul competency and the priesthood of all believers. We understand each individual is capable of approaching God directly, searching Scripture, seeking the mind of Christ and making spiritual and moral decisions. We don’t need any intermediary—preacher, priest or pope—to tell us what and how to think. So, we think for ourselves. And often disagree.

Historically, the first Baptist church also split. One of the founders, Thomas Helwys, died in prison for telling King James, who also headed the Church of England, where to get off. The first Baptist in America, Roger Williams, vigorously protested the Puritans’ stranglehold on Massachusetts. We’ve been dissenters ever since.

Some Baptists deplore dissent. You can see why. We’ve all seen dysfunctional churches wracked by disagreement. The “Baptist battles” of the late 20th century embarrassed the cause of Christ. And faith just feels better when we all get along.

Still, Baptists’ predilection for dissent is our heritage. Sure, it’s disconcerting, uncomfortable and just plain cringeworthy. But it offers distinct advantages. Dissent:

• Fuels our passion. At root, dissent springs from our affirmation of soul competency. Disagreement isn’t fun, but we stay vitally engaged when we know our beliefs and ideas matter—not only to each other, but to God.

• Opens us to new ideas. We debate. We argue. Sometimes, we change our minds.

• Helps us stay honest. Dissenters tend to say, “Hey, the emperor has no clothes.” Embarrassing for naked emperors; healthy for everyone else.

• Maintains democracy. Dissenters present alternatives, which break bureaucratic logjams and staid thinking. Power to the people.

O Lord, thank you for 400 years of dissenting Baptists.

What was God thinking?

The world was a rambunctious, rancorous, rancid mess. And God sent a baby to do what everybody else thought should be a king’s job.

Unless you were a senator in Rome, a scholar in Alexandria or a member of the Sanhedrin in Jerusalem, the world was a pretty rough place a little more than 2,000 years ago. By today’s standards—even economic recession standards—those people had it bad.

Take the Jews, for example. The stars of the Old Testament. God’s “chosen people.” But by this time, the mighty had fallen. Once considered—in their own minds, at least—the preeminent nation on Earth, they had been relegated to a dusty outpost astride a modest trade route in the Roman empire. Foreign troops occupied their land. Their economy bobbed along unproductively. Government at every level took advantage of them. They had virtually no middle class, with a chasm between upper and lower classes. They hadn’t even heard any decent preaching in 400 years.

Now, if you or I were going to fix this mess, we would start by sending brigades of elite special forces to throw out the occupying army. We would call in our Council of Economic Advisers to jump-start business, pump up the tourist and convention trade, and recapitalize the central bank. We would commission ambassadors to write new treaties with neighboring countries and put a trade czar in charge of drumming up reciprocal relationships with craftspeople from Asia to Gaul. We’d dispatch a healthy Billy Graham to preach a great revival. And, for sure, we would elect the wisest, strongest, most experienced warrior/CEO/politician to manage all the redevelopment.

But God sent a baby. Of course, Jesus was no ordinary baby. But the Bible says he was as fully human as he was fully divine. So, he was a baby, just the same.

Leave it to God to think outside the crib. No conventional political or commercial wisdom for the God of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob (who, come to think of it, weren’t exactly the prototypical nation-building patriarchs you’d choose if you were hiring for the job).

No, God took on the shape and substance of a baby to turn the world upside down. Before Jesus ever left heaven for the limitations of infancy, he knew how this would turn out. Of course, Jesus the holy baby probably didn’t know it, but the eternal Jesus, the Word who spoke the world into being, understood the life that baby would lead. Rejection, suffering and misunderstanding. Forsakenness, heartache and persecution. Sure, this week and next, we will romanticize Christmas and the Christ Child. But back then, patience, love and sacrifice were his weapons of choice against a world gone wickedly wrong. Redemption, not revenge, was his plan.

I grew up in a family who loved Christmas surprises. In fact, surprise was the valued variable in our gift-giving equation. No peeking; you had to be surprised on Christmas morning. As an adult, I look back and think we were onto something: Surprise as a metaphor for God’s response to all Earth’s heartache. God sprung a surprise on the whole world that first Christmas. The Jews wanted a big, burly Messiah. God sent a baby from a poor family. Surprise.

A little more than 2,000 years later, the world seems even more messed up now than it was back then. Despite our progress, despair is having its day. The gulf between rich and poor is greater. The tyranny of despots is even more ferocious. The gap between wish and hope seems almost beyond reaching.

So now we wait for Christmas on a violent, forlorn planet, near the end of one of the hardest years in memory. Let us expect surprises from God. We can’t plan them or manipulate them. Most likely, we won’t understand them. We merely accept them, love them and “faith” them.

This Christmas, we sorely need divine surprises.

Texas Baptists’ next big project would sound preposterous if the needs weren’t so poignant and pervasive, and if the power of the Holy Spirit weren’t present. Together, we’re taking on Texas Hope 2010, a campaign to (a) share the hope of Christ with all Texans in their own language and context and (b) ensure that no Texan goes to bed hungry. We intend to do this by Easter 2010.

Texas Hope 2010 reflects the vision of the Baptist General Convention of Texas’ new executive director, Randel Everett. He began his tenure last spring and quickly set about to help us look past the misfortune and malaise that seemed to dog our convention the past few years. His solution is deceptively simple. We must see beyond ourselves so that we can recognize the tremendous needs in our state and decide what we’re going to do about them.

The impetus for Texas Hope 2010 grows out of Jesus’ twin mandates. The Great Commission (Matthew 28:19-20) calls upon us to share the gospel with all people. The Great Commandments insist we must love God and love our neighbors (Matthew 22:34-40). As we take the message of Christ to every Texan, regardless of language, race, neighborhood or religion, we focus on completing one phase of the Great Commission. And as we eliminate hunger throughout our state, we demonstrate our love for God in the most tangible way—by expressing our love for and to our neighbors—both of which are crucial to fulfilling Christ’s commandments.

We will seek to fulfill the Texas Hope 2010 goals by engaging three ongoing tasks:

• Praying. We’re quick to say we will pray, but I often wonder how well we follow through. But we have to admit a task as huge as Texas Hope 2010 is impossible without prayer. Not only does prayer petition God’s involvement in this task, but sustained prayer conditions our hearts and minds for the sustained effort required to fulfill it. Daily focus on the spiritual and physical needs of fellow Texans will channel our interests and inclinations toward the seemingly impossible but increasingly probable.

Please join me in pledging to pray for Texas Hope 2010 and our fellow Texans every day at noon. You can sign up and order prayer guides at www.TexasHope2010.com. On the homepage, click on the word “prayer.”

• Caring. Jesus told us we feed and hydrate him when we feed the hungry and give water to the thirsty (Matthew 25:37-40). No doubt, if any of us actually saw Jesus looking weak from hunger and thirst, we would do everything in our power to provide him food and water. But Texas, home to about 5,600 BGCT churches, also is home to more than 1 million people who do not know where they’ll find their next meal. If we say we take Jesus seriously yet do not feed them, then we’re letting him go hungry.

With our network of churches—that’s people—in almost every community, we’ve got the infrastructure to deliver food to all Texas’ hungry. And with all our skill and education, we’ve got the resources to train many of them to care for themselves.

• Sharing. If we care for Texans’ stomachs but ignore their souls, we’ve done them an eternal disservice. (Just like if we care for their souls but ignore their stomachs, and we do them a daily disservice.) We have the opportunity to reach out to 11 million Texans who do not claim any church home. In these days, when the news often seems hopeless, what could be more helpful than an authentic word of hope delivered by a neighbor from one’s own community?

We’ve got the means to distribute Scripture and speak words of salvation across our state. Sure, it’s challenging, but when have we not loved a big challenge?

Visit www.TexasHope2010.com or call (888) 244-9400 to commit to this task. Make an eternal difference in Texas.

The 2008 Baptist General Convention of Texas annual meeting in Fort Worth reminded me of hundreds of Texas towns—small and quiet, but significant just the same.

The 1,891 messengers who assembled in Fort Worth comprised the smallest convention gathering in 59 years. And they were amenable to just about every business item that came their way. Time after time, I wrote in my notes, “√ w/o d&d”—approved without debate and dissent. Still, we may look back on the 2008 meeting as a watershed moment for our BGCT. Issues to ponder:

• Politics. For the first time in two decades, Texas Baptists Committed did not endorse a slate of candidates. TBC was born at the height of the battle for the soul of the Southern Baptist Convention. Its goal has been to protect the state convention from falling under control of the fundamentalist leaders who took over the national convention.

For several years, many Texas Baptists said TBC should quit endorsing candidates, since the fundamentalists formed their own state convention and no longer grapple for control of ours. So, this year, presidential candidates Stephen Hatfield and David Lowrie faced off in an “open” election, neither endorsed by any group. (Full disclosure: Stephen Hatfield is my pastor and cherished friend.) Both of them are eminently qualified to lead the convention, and David Lowrie will be a tremendous president. He has championed the principle that the BGCT should be open to and accept all participating, supporting churches, no matter how they feel about national conventions. His election signals this principle is true: We affirm the value of all churches that choose to cooperate with our state convention. We do not dictate their national affiliation, and they do not dictate ours.

• Presence. We lacked a lot here. Attendance was abysmal. Of course, external conditions contributed to the low turnout. Hurricane Ike inflicted a heavy toll on the Gulf Coast and Southeast Texas. And even though the price of gas has dropped, the economy still is in the tank, inhibiting some prospective messengers from traveling to the meeting. Also, many Texas Baptists just don’t attend meetings anymore. Maybe it has to do with “postdenominationalism” and a tendency to put a priority on other relationships. Possibly it has to do with the busy pace of life today and the difficulty of carving out time to attend meetings. Probably it has more to do with apathy, the BGCT’s greatest challenge. Years of theo-political battles, followed by a church-starting financial scandal and misdirection took their toll. Now, individuals and churches expect the convention to prove its relevance and value before they commit time, involvement and resources.

• Promise. Although it reported only briefly, the Future Focus Committee offered a hint of the promise that can come from thinking creatively. The committee suggested changing the name of the BGCT to Texas Baptist Convention, and the proposal was referred to the Executive Board. I’m not sure that’s the best name (we’ll discuss it later), but the committee’s willingness to think expansively is a great sign. We need to reinvent what it means to be Texas Baptists, and we can hope—and pray—the committee will wrestle with far more substantial issues, like how to engage all our passions and commitment, how to structure our common endeavors, and how to engage our culture. May the committee continue to embrace the kind of straightforwardness and creativity it demonstrated by offering to change our name.

• People. The best part of an annual meeting always is the people. Joy Fenner did a great job as president; the first woman prez set a high bar for all who follow. Randel Everett was affable, uplifting and focused on Texas Hope 2010 in his first meeting as our executive director. Texas Baptists are great folks, and the ones who showed up seemed to enjoy each other and had a fine time.

Thank God, the election is over. Now, I pray the politics of division died Nov. 4, 2008.

Not long after the polls closed on the West Coast, John McCain phoned Barack Obama to offer congratulations and then went out to concede defeat. He delivered one of the most poignant, stirring, admirable speeches of his long and remarkable career. You could see the disappointment in his face, hear it in his voice. Yet through his pain, he embraced his noble virtues. He thanked all those Americans who sacrificed on his behalf, particularly his family and close campaign aides. He shushed supporters who railed against his opponent. And he pledged goodwill and cooperation to the candidate who defeated him, calling all Americans to do the same. He reminded us we need the next president to succeed in order for our nation to succeed.

A little while later, President-elect Obama and his wife and daughters strolled onto the Grant Park stage and into a new chapter of U.S. history. In his acceptance speech, he thanked his family, his supporters and the voters who elected him. He talked about his conversations with Sen. McCain and President Bush. Then he turned his attention to the themes that propelled him to the White House—change, hope, inclusion and a spirit of optimism reflected in “Yes, We Can.” Significantly, he spoke directly to the 55.8 million voters who did not choose him: “To those Americans whose support I have yet to earn—I may not have won your vote, but I hear your voices, I need your help, and I will be your president, too.”

Listening to both those speeches, I couldn’t help but wonder how different America would be if candidates campaigned with the spirit they reflect on election night. Perhaps we’ll go forward in that tone. May God grant it.

For too long, the United States has suffered from the politics of fear and division. It’s an effective strategy for winning elections and securing congressional votes. It’s a lousy way to run a country. So, I hope you’ll join me in demanding that our new president lead from the center, and, just as important, that politicians from both parties join him there. If they weren’t so concerned about which party would control the White House and Congress and more concerned about building a strong nation, we’d be far better off.

Speaking of being better off, set aside partisanship for a moment and reflect upon the sea of tears we saw late on election night. Mostly, they streamed down faces of color. Predominantly, those were African-American faces. No matter personal politics, how could anyone who loves and cares for our country not be moved to the core by such a sight?

As a white middle-aged man, I’ll never understand the grief and suffering long endured by my African-American sisters and brothers, as well as by other friends of color. When I foolishly downplayed the depths of racism in America, these friends gently corrected me. So I have tried throughout my lifetime to empathize with them. And on election night, I wept when I saw their tears.

No, we have not ended racism in America. But we have taken a giant step forward. This election was not all about race, but race was a huge part of it. No matter whom you supported, I hope you’re proud and grateful to live in a country where a compelling candidate of color can be elected president. And, sisters, I hope you are encouraged to think that sometime, maybe in our lifetimes, your election day will come, too.

Meanwhile, Barack Obama has been elected to a hard, hard task. Pray for our new president and vice president, representatives and senators, as well as governors and lawmakers in 50 statehouses, and hold them accountable for serving all Americans. We must, at last, stand together. The challenges facing our nation will be insurmountable if we continue the politics of division that have plagued us for so long.

Congratulations on winning the 2008 election. Although I don’t know your name as I write this letter, I imagine the whole world will know who you are not long after this edition of the Baptist Standard rolls off the presses and uploads onto the Internet. (At least I pray we’ll know very soon. America certainly doesn’t need another vote-counting fiasco like the one we endured in 2000.)

Why you sought “the highest office in the land” overwhelms my imagination. You endured months of nonstop travel, and that’s the easy part. This campaign reinforced Americans’ assessment that politics is brutal. Although you and your opponent pledged to behave otherwise, both of you succumbed to the seduction of fear-mongering and negativity. Folks wondered how either of you could weather such withering attacks. But as one who sometimes comes under public criticism, I know your wives and children suffered much worse than either of you. While I can understand why a candidate would want to be president, I can’t comprehend the calculus of determining if the family cost is worth the campaign.

Still, I’m grateful to you and your opponent for seeking the presidency. For better or worse, our Constitution mandates we elect a president. We might as well choose from among people of character, goodwill, intelligence and curiosity, who love our nation, desire what’s best for the common good and understand the United States’ place in the world. Those characteristics describe both of you, although they seemed more accurate at the beginning of the campaign than at the end.

You will assume your new office in 11 weeks. I ask that you keep at least three things in mind:

• You are a man and not God. This request may seem strange, but remember what Lord Acton said: “Power tends to corrupt, and absolute power corrupts absolutely.” Resist the gravitational pull toward corruption. Ignore the sycophants who only tell you what they think you want to hear, and listen to your wife and close friends who will tell you the truth. Refuse to equate yourself with your powerful position, realizing you can—and will—make mistakes, and consequences will be grave.

• People are praying for you. All Americans of goodwill want you to succeed, no matter how we voted. We know the only way for our country to thrive is for you to govern wisely and well. So, on your brightest days and in your darkest nights, never forget that the faithful prayers of a nation are interceding on your behalf. You may be lonely there at the top, but you will not be alone.

• You will govern best if you govern from the center. Americans are sick of politics of fear and division and contrast. It ran its course; it failed. Oh, it sometimes worked in the short run, like during a tight election. But the legacy of dividers and fear-mongers is abysmal. That’s because Americans aren’t like that. Most of us have friends across the political spectrum. We differ on ideology, but we unite around common concern and genuine affection. We realize what we hold in common is far greater than that which would divide us. And so, at the personal level, we work together for the greater good.

I know this sounds simplistic, but we hunger for a leader who will live and work like that on a national scale. Leaders of your party will beg you and leaders of the opposition party will bait you to govern by division. They don’t represent normal Americans. We want you to chart a course that transcends partisanship and disavows division. Hold up a fair, common-sense plan for fixing our problems, and then hold the rest of government, including your administration as well as Congress, accountable for joining you. Americans will “have your back.” We’ll support you if you call us together and lead us without regard to race, religion, class, gender or geography.