For several days now, I’ve been carrying a note I wrote to myself. It says: “100% agreement not mandatory.”

I have no idea when I put down those words. The piece of paper is getting pretty ragged on the edges, so, I’ve obviously been toting it around for awhile, reading the message to myself every day. But I know why I wrote that note. I’m bone tired of the notion people have to agree completely, or else they’re adversaries.

Have you experienced this attitude? You disagree, and the person you’re talking to goes from zero to furious in about 0.046 seconds. It’s not like you attacked this person or said bad things about his mother. You just happened to disagree. And now you’re the enemy.

We probably see more of this behavior in years that are divisible by four. Presidential elections seem to bring predispositions toward partisanship out in people.

Tilt toward incivility 

Beyond election-year politics, this pattern reflects a broader tilt toward incivility. When we think clearly about disagreement, we recognize the “other” has reasons for believing. And when we think humbly about disagreement, we concede even we may be wrong.

Unfortunately, clarity and humility don’t surface that often, particularly in American discourse. Once, I illustrated this by describing the patterns of rhetoric and the belittle-to-win-an-argument tactics I hear on talk radio. Maybe I called it the “Rush Limbaughization of America.” But because I disagreed with some folks about the efficacy of talk radio and the contributions of radio hosts, some folks got really mad. Touché.

Sadly, congregations practice this kind of thinking all the time. Don’t believe it? Bring up the subject of worship music, and you’ll get an earful from partisans of “traditional” and “contemporary.” Sometimes, you’d think Jesus only likes one kind of music—never mind that neither the organ nor the guitar were invented when Jesus preached.

I'm guilty, too 

Full disclosure: My wife, Joanna, will vouch I’m inclined this way, too. We’re fixing dinner and talking about stuff, and she disagrees. If I don’t watch it, I’m raising my voice, as if practically shouting will force her to see the pure light of my reasoning. “I disagree, but you don’t have to get mad about it,” she says. And she’s right.

The tragedy of resorting to anger when we disagree manifests itself several ways:

• Anger prevents us from learning important lessons.

Baptists, of all people, ought to know this. We talk about “the priesthood of all believers” and affirm every individual has the privilege and responsibility to seek wisdom directly from God. The obvious corollary to this is that no individual is the sole owner and arbiter of all wisdom. If we listen instead of shout, if we stay calm and don’t get hot, we can reason and glean knowledge and wisdom from each other. And even when we still disagree, we benefit from understanding why we disagree and why the other person thinks as she does.

• When we refuse to listen, we dishonor the presence of Christ in others.

When we get hot and take a hard line solely to win an argument, we treat the other person as an object, not a child of God. But when we respond with dignity and respect—especially when we don’t agree—we affirm God’s hand in creating and guiding that person.

• When we treat our positions as absolute, we ignore the complexity and ambiguity of creation.

People who disagree with us aren’t necessarily totally wrong, and their disagreement doesn’t make them totally bad. Sometimes, we forget this. In so doing, we overlook the richness and diversity of humanity, which is a blessing from God.

You can think of other examples. But here’s the deal: “100% agreement not mandatory.” In fact, healthy, open, vibrant disagreement can be a blessing.

The “non-dogmatic” results from the latest Pew Forum on Religion & Public Life poll generated buzz and created controversy. But maybe they’re not as off-base as critics claim. And maybe the politicization of religion explains the reason why.

The Pew Forum’s U.S. Religious Landscape Survey revealed most Americans take a “non-dogmatic approach” to their faith. Strong majorities of almost every faith group (Mormons and Jehovah’s Witnesses are the only exceptions) indicated they agree that “many religions can lead to eternal life.” Even Southern Baptists, whose doctrinal statements and historic preaching have emphasized Christianity’s exclusive faith claim, tilt toward tolerance. Sixty-one percent of Southern Baptists said they agree that other religions can lead people to eternal life; only 33 percent said their faith is the sole path to salvation.

Justifiably, some critics have found fault with this particular Pew question. They have noted the question asks about many “religions,” and they have wondered whether that word confused participants. To a pollster, “religions” might differentiate between the world’s faith groups, such as Christians, Jews, Muslims, Buddhists, Hindus and others. But to a Baptist, “religions” might mean other faith groups, such as Methodists, Presbyterians, Lutherans, and members of Assemblies of God and Churches of Christ.

So, perhaps 61 percent of Baptists don’t really believe Jews, Muslims, Buddhists and Hindus go to heaven. Maybe, when they’re feeling particularly ecumenical, they think their Methodist, Presbyterian, Lutheran, Pentecostal and Church of Christ friends will walk the streets of gold.

Still, by any reckoning, 61 percent is a slew of Baptists. It’s hard to imagine so many of them misunderstood the question. Whatever the final percentage, we come back to the conclusion that many Baptists meant exactly what they told the pollsters: They think they’ll see Muslims, Jews, Mormons, Hindus and Buddhists in heaven.

Traditional Baptist thinking on this subject points to two New Testament passages: “Jesus answered, ‘I am the way and the truth and the life. No one comes to the Father except through me” (John 14:6) and “Salvation is found in no one else, for there is no other name under heaven given to men by which we must be saved” (Acts 4:12). Baptists have interpreted these verses to guard Christianity’s exclusive faith claims.

But Baptists have been stronger on relationship than theology. We come by this naturally, because we emphasize our saving relationship with Jesus, not precise arguments for the historicity and theoligical validity of our faith. For example: How many of us learned to witness by countering arguments against faith with, “This is what Jesus has done for me”?

Since we are a relational people, it’s only natural that we extend those relationships to others. For more than 30 years, many Baptists have been building relationships upon common positions on political issues that have their grounding in faith perspectives. Abortion and homosexuality stand out, as do gambling, hunger and poverty.

Decades ago, church historian Bill Leonard saw this and predicted people of faith would disengage from denominations and coalesce around political issues on the conservative-liberal political spectrum. At the time, most people interpreted that as “people of Christian faith,” but politics being what it is, those coalitions broadened to include other faith groups with similar social and political perspectives.

Meanwhile, our communities have become more multicultural, and Baptists have formed friendships with people from all over the world, whose faiths are different, but whose values are similar.

And following the historical pattern, Baptist relationships may have overwhelmed Baptist theology.

Thank the Calvinists for one of the most thoughtfully provocative moments of the 2008 Southern Baptist Convention annual meeting.

(Of course, if you’re a Calvinist, you’ll say: “No, thank God. That moment was preordained from before the foundation of the world.” Just a little theological humor.)

The moment happened while messengers considered the sixth of nine resolutions they passed this year. Resolution Six addressed “regenerate church membership and church member restoration.” It exhorted churches and pastors to “implement a plan to minister to, counsel and restore wayward church members based upon the commands and principles given in Scripture.”

But Tom Ascol, pastor of Grace Baptist Church in Cape Coral, Fla., and a key leader among Calvinist—also called Reformed—Southern Baptists, suggested the resolution needed to be more direct and substantial.

Ascol asked messengers to amend the original resolution and to call on Southern Baptist churches “to repent of any failure among us to live up to our professed commitment to regenerate church membership and any failure to obey Jesus Christ in lovingly correcting wayward church members.” His amendment also urged denominational leaders “to support and encourage any church’s efforts to recover and implement this discipline of our Lord Jesus Christ … even if such efforts result in a reduction in the number of members that are recorded in those churches.”

Calvinism, or Reformed theology, takes its name from the 16th century reformer John Calvin. Its five “points” are brought to mind by the acrostic TULIP—representing total depravity of all humans, unconditional election, limited atonement, irresistible grace and perseverance of the saints (or what Baptists often call “once saved, always saved”).

From its earliest decades, the Baptist movement has embraced both Calvinists and non-Calvinists. Because contemporary Baptists focus so strongly on missions and Christ’s Great Commission to proclaim the gospel to “all nations,” most of them shy away from strict Calvinism. They can’t comprehend that God would “elect” or choose some people for salvation while also condemning others to hell even before they are born. As you might imagine, Baptists have argued over Calvinism for generations.

But Calvinism has been gaining favor with many Baptists, particularly young adults, for several years. Its most attractive feature is its unswerving belief in the sovereignty, or absolute power, of God. In such uncertain times, it’s not surprising that an emphasis on God’s timeless and ultimate power has found a following.

It’s also not surprising Calvinists would lead an emphasis on “regenerate church membership”—ensuring that church members have a vital, saving, personal relationship with God through Jesus Christ. They would state it more precisely, but in essence they point to two facts: (a) if God is sovereign and Christ died for the church, then the church should take God’s power and Christ’s sacrifice seriously as it relates to its membership, and (b) if a person claims to have a saving relationship with God through the mediation of Christ, then he or she should live like it.

A potential danger of Ascol’s proposal is that Baptist Christians could tilt too much toward judgmentalism and fail to apply God’s grace. But given the fact Baptists can’t even find about half the members we count, and many of the ones we can find don’t live as if Christ has made a difference in their lives, judgment is a far lesser danger than the laxity of license.

If we love people whose names fill our church rolls but who never darken our church doors and who live like hell, we will draw up the courage to “lovingly correct” them. That’s difficult and uncomfortable. But the consequences are eternal.

“How could such a fine, first-rate organization fall so far so fast?” That’s the common refrain as folks talk about Texas Woman’s Missionary Union these days.

For 128 years, Woman’s Missionary Union has provided Texas Baptists with strong leadership in missions education, missions action and missions support. WMU paved the way for inspiring Texas Baptists to roll up our sleeves and get about the business of fulfilling Jesus’ Great Commission.

On an educational level, WMU has trained generations of children, girls and women about what being a “Great Commission Christian” really means. Thousands of Texas Baptists—women and men alike—first learned about missionaries and the priority of missions as Sunbeams and Mission Friends. The Lord only knows how many women first felt God’s tug on their heartstrings in GAs and Acteens. And countless churches have been strengthened by WMU’s leadership development.

A vital missions role

WMU also has made missions possible for the Baptist General Convention of Texas. The Mary Hill Davis Offering for Texas Missions has financed foundational missions programs, such as church starting and outreach to people of many ethnicities and languages. And it has provided the seed money for many of the BGCT’s greatest innovations, such as compassionate ways to reach vulnerable Texans and creative ways to reach new generations of Texans. Our convention, and the kingdom of God, would have been tremendously diminished were it not for the leadership of WMU and the liquidity of the Mary Hill Davis Offering.

Although leaders have been mum about the details, Texas WMU obviously is passing through one of the most difficult, tenuous periods in its history. Last fall, Executive Director-Treasurer Carolyn Porterfield summarily resigned. Last month, the WMU Executive Board summarily fired the interim executive, Nina Pinkston. And the method was ugly: She showed up at a staff retreat only to find the staff wasn’t coming. She called the office to learn she had been relieved of her duties, and they would ship her belongings to her. This was shoddy, unprofessional treatment of a respected former missionary who had labored to keep the ailing organization on its feet. These losses have been compounded by the resignations and early retirements of four longtime employees—Waunice Newton, Ruby Vargas, Cathy Gunnin and Judy Champion.

Former presidents respond

All this has caused Texas Baptists who love WMU to grieve and to ask, “How could such a fine, first-rate organization fall so far so fast?”

Texas WMU’s crisis has prompted response from two groups—all eight living former presidents, as well as 59 “friends of WMU of Texas.” Their concerns should be heeded.

The friends sent a letter to the WMU board of directors that says: “This esteemed organization seems to be moving in a direction contrary to her historic principles and practices. We are deeply disturbed and wonder how this could have happened.” The letter calls upon the WMU board to “put aside any reticence and consider your responsibilities as board members.” It also affirms the desire to “move ahead in truth and honor as ‘laborers together with God.’”

The former presidents have called for prayer for WMU, particularly for the board meeting June 16-17. The presidents also asked the board to consider hiring an experienced intentional interim.

Texas Baptists don’t have to be missiologists to see things are amiss in our iconic missions organization. We need to pray for Texas WMU.

In the meantime, the WMU board should follow the former presidents’ advice. The pattern of the past eight months indicates deep problems within Texas WMU. The organization needs to right itself before expecting a new executive director-treasurer to take up the mantle of leadership.

The next two years should be good for our souls.

The Baptist General Convention of Texas’ new executive director, Randel Everett, fired a double-barreled challenge during his installation service May 19. He called it Texas Hope 2010. And it calls for Texas Baptists to accomplish two enormous feats in just under two years:

Present the gospel to everybody in Texas in a way they will understand it. And make sure all Texans know where their next meal is coming from.

I like how this new guy thinks. These two concise goals embrace both Jesus’ Great Commission and his Great Commandment.

Of course, Texas Hope 2010 is a tall order in a state where 11 million residents do not affiliate with any church. It’s a huge task in a state with some of the highest poverty rates in the nation. How can we explain the message of Jesus in more than 100 languages, not to mention an infinite array of cultures? How can we ensure ongoing food distribution in some of the poorest counties in the country, not to mention cities bursting at the seams?

A Parodox

Here’s a paradox: The greatness of Texas Hope 2010 is its impossibility. We can’t do it. Not in our own strength, anyway.

Fortunately, (this sounds trite, but it’s true) God can. We’ll be blessed if God uses us to help all Texans know about Christ and forget about hunger.

The wonderful thing about the impossibility of Texas Hope 2010 is that it kicks our pride in the head. Let’s just admit we’re a prideful people. And we come by all that pride quite naturally.

First of all, Baptists tilt toward pride. It’s a corruption of one of our greatest strengths. We believe in the priesthood of all believers. We don’t need a priest or anybody else to mediate between ourselves and God. We know we can relate directly to God. This is wonderful knowledge. But taken to its extreme (which we’re prone to do), it leads to Lone Ranger spirituality. Even if we don’t say it, we tend to think, “Ain’t nobody but Jesus gonna tell me what to do.”

Second, as Texans, we’re proud of our pride. This is another corruption of a strength. In their purest forms, independence and self-reliance are virtues. But when we take them to their extremes, they lead to stubborn arrogance. We say, at least to ourselves: “Just me ’n Jesus. I don’t need anybody else.”

Being both Baptists and Texans, we overdose on pride. Could our recent malaise be a direct result of our pride? Has it been God’s punishment for our arrogance? Denomina-tionally, we stood up to a takeover movement and preserved historic Baptist principles and practice. Demographically, we set out to start churches and meet needs all over the state. Those are virtues. But when we started believing we did it, we made idols of our virtues and started worshipping ourselves and not God.

So, God has given us an assignment we know we can’t accomplish without help. What do we do?

• Get on our knees and pray. First, for forgiveness, repenting of our pride. Second, for God’s divine intervention and daily help in taking on a task we know we can’t accomplish on our own.

• Admit we need the help of others. If we think we can accomplish Texas Hope 2010 through more than a million Texas Baptists in 5,000 churches, we’ll slip on the banana peel of pride again. We’ve got to admit we need to collaborate with other Christians in other denominations. And, even more humbling, we need to admit we need the help of other Baptists in Texas. (Lord, forgive, then help us.)

• Roll up our sleeves and get busy. To accomplish Texas Hope 2010, we must live among and love the people we easily objectify—the poor and the stranger. As missionary/theologian D.T. Niles said, “Christianity is one beggar telling another beggar where to find Bread.” In humility, let us thank God for our Bread and bread as we work with others to make sure all Texans are fed, spiritually and physically.

You probably aren’t surprised to learn we get a lot of mail here at the Baptist Standard. For generations, Baptists have interpreted their foundational doctrines—soul competency and the priesthood of all believers—to embrace a corollary: the right to write a letter to the editor. That’s good. Soul competency and individual priesthood affirm God’s grace in the life of each Christian. So, we expect to learn from each other as grace works in our lives. And even when we read letters with which we disagree, at least we learn about others’ perspectives. At the Standard, we also value letters to the editor because we value our fellowship with the believers who write them.

An occupational hazard of being a newspaper editor is receiving mail from people who think you’re (a) dumb, (b) mistaken, (c) doing a crummy job, (d) preparing to roast in hell or (e) all of the above. Readers never see the majority of those letters, because people who set out to prove points (a) through (e) usually blow past the Standard’s 250-word limit before they even get warmed up. Then, by the time I offer to publish a condensed letter, they’ve calmed down and don’t feel compelled to condemn me to a fate worse than death.

While I hate to admit it, I’m lousy at predicting what will set readers off. (One exception: Anything about worship music generates tons of mail.) When I fret, nothing happens. Then, when an “innocuous” edition comes out, the letters pour.

Those are the weeks when friends offer sympathy, but I tell them I’ve got it easy compared to pastors. Readers can take me to task, but they live elsewhere, and I worship in the company of my friends. But a pastor gets criticism and then has to stand in the pulpit on Sunday and see the faces of the folks who are after him. Now, that’s a challenge, and it’s a pity more people don’t appreciate how hard it is.

Lately, I’ve been increasingly bothered by a trend in letters to the editor, church relationships and public discussion in general. We can’t disagree agreeably.

Theoretically, people should be able to express different opinions and still get along. In practice, however, cordial disagreement is the exception rather than the rule. Confronted with a contrary opinion, people go from placid to mad faster than you can shout, “You’re an idiot!”

Denies our heritage

Across society, this reflects a dangerous breakdown of civility. In the church, it undermines unity. Among Baptists, it denies our heritage.

Civility glues democracies together. That’s why our haste to anger and inability to remain civil imperils the nation. For example, witness the rampant partisanship of Congress. Incivility impedes our lawmakers’ ability to find solutions to our worst problems.

The night before he was crucified, Jesus prayed that the church, his followers, might be unified. Jesus clearly saw Christian unity as the outward testimony of his mission to express God’s love to a hurting world. His logic is simple: How will the world know God loves them if Christians can’t love each other? Yet when Christians fight each other and congregations split apart, the world doesn’t see a symbol of God’s love, but just another group whose practices are like worldly organizations, only more vicious. Our incivility belies our witness.

Value disagreement

Baptists, of all Christians, ought to value disagreement. Remember soul competency and the priesthood of all believers? For 399 years, Baptists have been champions of religious dissent—not, as some may think, because we like to argue, but because we believe God entitles each person to an opinion. And when we’re at our Baptist-best, even when we disagree, we listen for the voice of God in the one who vocalizes another opinion.

May we be free to speak, quick to hear and slow to judge. If Baptists lead the way to civil disagreement, our nation will be stronger, our churches healthier and our witness more credible.

Ironically, Thomas Clifford McGowan Jr. became a free man the same day the U.S. Supreme Court freed states to resume executions.

McGowan’s case illustrates why Texas and other states should maintain a moratorium on capital punishment.

McGowan was a 26-year-old day laborer in 1985, when a 19-year-old rape victim picked his picture out of a police lineup. Tentative at first, when pressed for a decision by a police officer, the young woman said McGowan was the man who raped her.

So, McGowan went to prison for more than 22 years—almost half his life. This spring, DNA tests proved McGowan did not commit the crime. Judge Susan Hawk recommended McGowan go free, and he’s out of jail while the Texas Court of Criminal Appeals considers Hawk’s decision. He became the 16th Dallas County inmate to be exonorated by DNA tests during the past seven years.

The same day McGowan walked free, the Supreme Court ruled the three-step process Kentucky uses to administer capital punishment does not violate the Constitution’s ban on “cruel and unusual punishment.” The ruling virtually freed states to move forward with lethal injection as a method of execution.

Fortunately, McGowan’s wrongful conviction couldn’t earn him the death penalty. He might have died an innocent man.

Strong advocates of the death penalty might counter that McGowan was not sentenced to execution, so his case has no bearing on capital punishment. Of course, they would be wrong.

Our justice system is fallible

McGowan’s case illustrates the fallibility of the U.S. justice system, which is fallible simply because human beings are fallible. Problem is, a mistake that takes a person’s life is irreversible. And courtroom mistakes do happen.

Nationwide, 215 people convicted of crimes have been exonerated by DNA evidence, according to The Innocence Project, an organization dedicated to reversing wrongful convictions. Sixteen of the people who have been exonerated spent time on Death Row. Without intervention, they could have been executed for crimes they did not commit.

Thirty-two states have exonerated convicts. Texas leads the way, with 31 reversals. As science improves, the pace of exonerations increases. In the first 11 years DNA-based exonerations were possible, 63 people were set free. In the past eight years, 152 wrongful convictions were overturned.

The Innocence Project identifies at least seven causes of wrongful conviction. Those causes and the number of cases involving Texans are eyewitness identification, 24; unreliable/limited science, 9; false confessions, 3; forensic science misconduct, 4; government misconduct, 3; informants/snitches, 2; and bad lawyering, 0. (The number totals more than 31, because some cases involved multiple causes.)

While many Christians—for theological reasons—are among the strongest advocates of capital punishment, the McGowan case should prompt Christians and other citizens of goodwill to promote a moratorium on capital punishment. Several reasons stand out:

• We seek justice. Justice for murderers is one of the strongest arguments for capital punishment. But in light of so many wrongful convictions, justice should be an equally strong argument for refraining. Putting an innocent person to death is the ultimate act of injustice that can be imposed by the state.

• Life is precious. Set aside whatever you think about actual murderers and rapists, we cannot contend anything but that the lives of people who are wrongfully convicted are precious and should be protected, even if the guilty die in prison of old age instead of on a gurney by lethal injection.

• We say we love others and want them to go to heaven. Then how can we consider the possibility of wrongfully sending an innocent person to eternity in hell?