Texas is pretty proud of itself. Texas Baptists are pretty proud of themselves, too. But are we who we say we are?

“As Texas, we like to brag about how big we are, but this is not about bragging. It’s about being aware of the blessing God has given us,” Julio Guarneri, Baptist General Convention of Texas executive director, said during his first report to the BGCT Executive Board Feb. 19.

As someone who has heard and responded to Texas braggadocio since I arrived in this state more than 30 years ago, it was refreshing to me to hear Guarneri call it out in McAllen during his 2023 annual meeting address and then again in his comments to the Executive Board this week.

Guarneri was speaking about the size, strength, reach and influence of the Baptist General Convention of Texas. The BGCT’s size, strength, reach and influence is significant and has been for many years. It’s hard not to slip from celebration of that into pride in it when recounting all the good ministry the BGCT has done and is doing still.

But, as Guarneri has pointed out, Texas Baptists are not tasked with pursuing bragging rights. They are tasked with what Guarneri called the “main thing”—being disciples of Jesus who make disciples of Jesus.

Besides, when people settle into bragging, they often become last year’s champions. They become complacent. They rest in their past achievements. They abdicate their responsibility in favor of measuring themselves against others. They conflate who they are with who they were.

Guarneri did not ask if we are who we say we are, but I am asking that question. The challenges ahead—and there are plenty—won’t be met with bragging. They will be met by us being who we are called by God to be and doing what we are called by God to do.

A reflection on how we appear

When we focus on our past accomplishments, we don’t give adequate attention to the present. And when we neglect the present, we can slip away from who we say we are, and not perceive the slip.

A woman expected to find a much different situation when she arrived in the Bible Belt. She recently moved to the Dallas-Fort Worth area from the Pacific Northwest and thought people would be much more religious here. Our reputation for religion is far-reaching.

In a conversation with my wife, the woman said she was surprised to find the people here less religious than Christians in the Pacific Northwest. In her estimation, Christians are more serious about their religion in the Northwest than they seem to be in North Texas.

We can quibble over the details of what she means by “religious,” how she’s measuring religiousness and where she’s measuring it. But it all amounts to the same thing—a dodge. We think we’re pretty good Christians and don’t cotton to outsiders saying any different—even if those outsiders are right.

But “outsiders” often see things we’ve grown blind to. We see the present through the haze of the past. They see our cataracts.

What she described echoes something Jesus said: “Woe to you, [churchgoers and nominal Christians]! For you are like whitewashed tombs, which on the outside appear beautiful, but inside they are full of dead men’s bones and all uncleanness” (Matthew 23:27).

I know Jesus wasn’t addressing churchgoers and nominal Christians. He was addressing the scribes and the Pharisees—the religious leaders who should know better. But not being a pastor, Sunday school teacher or other religious leader ourselves doesn’t make it OK for us to be “clean on the outside” yet “full of greed and self-indulgence” on the inside (Matthew 23:25).

The woman expected to find people in Texas whose lives matched their reputations. She found something less instead.

Are we who we say we are?

I’m not that bad

I can hear the critics accusing me and her of a sweeping generalization. Not all Christians are hypocrites, they will want to make clear. Texas Baptists are serious followers of Jesus Christ. If she’d had more encounters with us, she would have found the religious people she expected to find, some might say, defensively.

My response to this anticipated criticism is the same as my response to quibbling about her definition of “religious.” It’s a dodge. To say not all Christians are hypocrites is a true statement. But is it true of us?

I am not calling individual Texas Baptists into question. I am not accusing individual Texas Baptists of hypocrisy. I am not calling you a hypocrite. I am calling us to self-examination, because those of us who call ourselves Texas Baptists represent someone far greater than Texas Baptists. We represent Jesus Christ.

For that reason alone, we must be who we say we are if we claim Christ’s name as our identity.

Those who identify as Christian make the claim—intended or not—that their primary and ultimate allegiance is to Jesus Christ, that his will is their own and supersedes their will. And Jesus’ will is, as Guarneri said, that we be about the “main thing” of being disciples of Jesus who make disciples of Jesus.

How easily we who are religious—yea, even we Texas Baptists—subordinate the “main thing” to secondary, tertiary or lower things, such as religious tests and political allegiances, baptizing the subordination in purity language.

I applaud Guarneri’s call to Texas Baptists to keep our eyes on the “main thing”—being disciples of Jesus who make disciples of Jesus. And I know his charge is pointed at me as much as anyone.

Am I who I say I am?

In a world whose values always have been at odds with Jesus’, it is imperative that we know who we are and whose we are, that we see clearly how we appear, and that we be who we say we are. We who identify with Christ must match our lives to our identification.

If Texas Baptists are going to be who we say we are, I must be who I say I am.

On Feb. 19, I proudly was amening in my heart Guarneri’s charge against Texas bragging. “You tell ’em,” rang my internal applause.

On Feb. 21, the chill set in as I asked myself, “Am I who I say I am?”

In and by Christ’s grace, I can be. And so can you.

Eric Black is the executive director, publisher and editor of the Baptist Standard. He can be reached at eric.black@baptiststandard.com. The views expressed are those of the author.

It was early on a Wednesday morning. There was a slight chill in the air. Not the kind of chill carried by fresh wind and fresh hope for a new day. No, this was the chill of cold metal ducts carrying cold air into cold rooms filled with bodies hoping to remain warm.

I stood underneath the over-bright lights designed to imitate daylight in a way that comes as close to sunlight as an Amazon Alexa does to the warmth of a conversation.

On this otherwise dreary Wednesday morning, amid the dull thrum of medical machinery, there sprung forth a raw energy, warmer than any blood-pumping heartbeat, and more akin to sunshine than any fluorescent light ever could dream of being.

I stood in the background as four pairs of hands, clasped in desperate hope and defiant courage, took center stage.

The life of a pastor is interesting. How is it I find myself sitting in on these holy moments?

A pastoral moment

Anne is a member of my church who was facing a major surgery to remove a tumor resting on her brain. Survival wasn’t an assumption. At a minimum, bad news from a closer look at the mass in her skull was anticipated.

I looked on as daughter gripped the hands of mother and father, who each gripped the hands of daughter and son, completing a circle of fear and faith, horror and hope. Would this be the last conversation they would share with their beloved? Would things ever be the same?

In the ministry of care, you will find yourself thrust into these moments—moments that feel intrusive to observe, much less participate in. And yet, in these moments, you will find yourself having a part to play.

Often it is in the most insecure times, when people are faced with their own mortality, that you will be expected to speak up, to have an answer. If this is a new space for you, you may find yourself wondering what to say when words feel like they never could be enough.

If that’s you, here’s the secret sauce: It’s not you who will make a difference. If that feels deflating, allow me to reframe. It’s not you who will make a difference, but there is someone in you who can.

Letting the Holy Spirit flow

When someone looks to you to be the harbinger of hope, there is nothing more natural than to want to have the answers, to be the help they’re looking for. But to present yourself as the solution to questions of eternity is to present yourself as a god. That is a recipe for disaster. That is a burden you can’t possibly bear and a burden you don’t have to bear.

Does that mean you should stay quiet? By no means. These moments of care are moments to speak, moments to rise up. But not in your own strength.

As a Christian woman or man, something goes with you into every space, every conversation. That something is the infinite love, contagious joy and unexplainable peace of God through the indwelling of the Holy Spirit. These are moments to let the power of the Holy Spirit flow through you in three simple ways—presence, Scripture and prayer.

Presence

Perhaps the greatest thing you bring to the ministry of care is the power of presence, of simply showing up. Being in the room with someone who is suffering can have an incalculable impact without even saying a word.

The wisdom of Ecclesiastes 4:12 reflects on this: “Though one may be overpowered, two can defend themselves. A cord of three strands is not quickly broken.”

There is something woven into the fabric of our being that demands community. How wonderful is the presence of one who carries the presence of the One.

Scripture

However, you obviously can’t sit there in silence forever. At some point, you have to open your mouth and speak. While it can be tempting to try and come up with a profound bit of wisdom or some overused pastoral axiom, you never can go wrong by keeping it simple.

One helpful way to look at pastoral care is to look at it as a ministry of reminder. As the Holy Spirit reminds us according to John 14:25-26, we serve as God’s mouthpiece by reminding those in our care of the simple and wonderful promises of Scripture.

Maybe it’s a beautiful Psalm for the suffering or one of the promises of Jesus, such as John 16:33: “In this world you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world.”

Whatever you choose, when you give someone Scripture, you give them something that can speak to them long after you leave and can speak more deeply and appropriately than you ever could (Hebrews 4:12).

Prayer

Finally, in these holy moments of care, as obvious as it may sound, you always should pray. To pray is to reach out to the source of everything you’re looking for.

Rather than directing people to the hope you bring, to pray—and to encourage the suffering to pray—is to remind people of the unfathomably intimate connection they have in relationship with the trinitarian community of love—Father, Son and Holy Spirit.

As the medical team came in signaling the time had arrived, there was one thing left to do. All the caregiving I had done for this family culminated in one pinnacle moment.

I stepped forward to the bedside, eyes pooling with hot tears. The chain-link circle of hands opened and shifted from a circle of blood to a circle of a different sort of family.

Warmth passed from hand to hand as I slowly looked each person in the eyes, finally landing on Anne, and said: “God loves you more than you can possibly imagine. He has promised to always be with you. Let’s pray.”

Zachary Anderson serves as discipleship pastor of Covenant Methodist Church, in The Woodlands and is working toward a Master of Divinity at Baylor University’s Truett Theological Seminary. The views expressed are those of the author.

More than 30 years of pastoring has affirmed to me pastors have a great calling. Though it is not always easy, it affords opportunity to serve with eternal purpose.

Preaching, teaching and equipping matter, but there are ways to “preach sermons without words.” So, when I was afforded roles in the community to be someone other than “the preacher,” I took them. I found God could use me to show his presence and message through me in unexpected ways when I wore other hats in the community.

Responding to the call

A fireman’s helmet was one “hat” that meant a lot to me. While pastoring in Stamford, the new fire chief became a member of the church and, soon, a friend. A few others in the church also were firefighters. So, I was invited to serve as chaplain for the fire department.

I’d respond to accidents and fires where I would counsel victims and survivors and encourage the first responders.

One time, a truck hauling a load of dog food ran off the highway and rolled over. There were no other vehicles, and the driver was uninjured.

“Are you a praying man?” I asked him.

Standing next to his demolished truck, he blurted out: “I am now, preacher! I am now!”

Not every accident or fire ended that well. I learned we quickly cry out in faith when we are injured or grieving. There is no time for judging when people need help.

Soon, I dialed up my commitment when I completed training and became a firefighter myself. The chief taught me our objectives were to “save lives and property.” Often and heroically, we could accomplish both objectives. Regrettably and on rare occasions, we could do neither.

I would learn so much about the thin edge between safety and danger, life and loss I couldn’t learn in a seminary class or a church office.

Against the odds

I also learned I could proclaim truth without preaching a sermon. Like many Texas Baptist pastors who oppose gambling, I advocated for the closure of the eight-liner gaming business in town.

Stamford straddles Jones and Haskell Counties. The business was in Haskell County, and the county attorney enforced the law to close it. But it reopened on the square in Stamford, which was in Jones County. The Jones County attorney was not as concerned as I was.

One day, the call came that a structure was on fire on the county square. It was the gambling den.

As one of the first responders to enter the business, we encountered a fully involved room. Our initial team of four—two two-man teams with hoses—saturated as much as possible, while trying to save the rest of the neighboring structures on the square—a museum and a law office.

A gambling machine fell over on one of our team, injuring him. Two of the team carried him out, leaving me alone and surrounded by smoke and flames. I quickly realized it was not a good place to be.

The chief radioed me to evacuate, which I did. A crowd had gathered, and as I came outside and took off my bunker gear, several of them began to laugh. They thought I’d be the last guy trying to save the gambling hall, but I was, literally.

Thankfully the fire, started by faulty Christmas light strands, did close the gaming business—at least for the rest of my time in town.

Connecting churches

Another time—a Sunday afternoon—a grass fire approached the sanctuary of an African American church. So, I bunkered up over my suit and soon was next to the building saving the structure.

I didn’t think much of it until months later when someone vandalized the school with a racist word. It was not a typical act in our town, but it made the news in Abilene.

The church that survived the flames hosted a meeting, and the pastor of that church invited me to attend. An NAACP representative came from Abilene and gave a good speech reminding us of the history of racial injustices endured and how they continued. It was truly moving and fiery.

After the message, the pastor of that church got up and expressed his appreciation for the remarks. Then, he told the story of how I had come from the pulpit to a fire hose to save their church building from burning while still wearing my “preaching clothes.”

The pastor said, though it was sad one person expressed their racism, we should celebrate the ways our larger community worked together. Then, the pastor abruptly ended the meeting, by asking me to conclude us in prayer.

The representative and I both were caught off-guard, but I stood up and prayed, and the meeting was over—except for the food and joy. Thanks to that pastor’s wise leadership, a potential “fire” was extinguished, and community health was gained.

Ministry outside the walls

Mine is just one example, one way pastors can multiply their ministry in their community. There are many other ways.

Whatever opportunity you have to connect on a volunteer basis as something other than “the preacher” in your community, consider it. You never know how God will use it to show his presence through you.

It not only will open doors for community connection, but it also will fill a need in your “pastor heart” to make sincere relationships outside of your church position and congregation.

Jay Abernathy is the senior pastor of First Baptist Church in Woodville and a member of the Baptist Standard board. The views expressed are those of the author.

(RNS)—That’s what I posted on X a few days ago, and it’s still going viral.

By the way, the “biblical womanhood” industry is also a scam. But the situation that prompted my post—the firing of Aaron Ivey from his position as worship pastor at a Texas church over indecent texts with men—was yet another case of predatory sexual behavior by a pastor selling the message of “biblical manhood.”

Note: I didn’t say “biblical manhood”—how that is defined is an open question, hence the quotation marks—is a scam. I said the industry around it is a scam.

By industry, I am referring to a definition like this one in the Cambridge Dictionary: “something that is produced or is available in large quantities and makes a lot of money.”

Defining ‘scam’

Of course, not everything that’s produced or available in large quantities and makes a lot of money is a scam. So, why would I say the particular industry around “biblical manhood”—as well as “biblical womanhood”—is a scam?

First, because, as noted above, what constitutes “biblical manhood/womanhood” is not only not clearly defined, but its definition is highly contested. The term originated, after all, in order to make a boundary, strike a mark and create a brand as a reactionary move amid the culture wars.

Furthermore, the tropes most commonly invoked within the discourse around “biblical manhood” distort—or even misrepresent—what the Bible teaches about virtue and character for men as well as women.

David wasn’t a warrior wearing armor. He was a shepherd with a slingshot guided by the Lord. Samson’s strength came not from bench presses and leg lifts, but from the Spirit of the Lord.

Paul’s admonition in 1 Corinthians 16:13 to “act like men” means in the original Greek to be courageous, and it applies equally to men and women, just as all of the qualities of Christlike character do.

Second, just as women’s fashion magazines exist by creating needs and desires women wouldn’t have otherwise and then offering the “solutions” to these manufactured needs, Christian publications also can operate on similar capitalistic and consumeristic principles.

Certain topics—those that get at our core identities and callings, in particular—are more prone to manipulation. This vulnerability derives from basic human nature, but when a spiritual or religious layer is added on top of those basic human needs, the potential for exploitation rises considerably.

Stereotypes

Stereotypes around manhood and womanhood are rooted in both nature and culture. Like all stereotypes, they emerge out of something truthful. But the calling of the Christian transcends culture. The church is the last place where cultural stereotypes should be upheld as biblical truth.

The worship leader who doesn’t like football shouldn’t feel out of place in the church because of that. The sales manager who is a godly husband, father and Bible teacher shouldn’t feel less manly because he doesn’t enjoy the outdoors. The IT guy who does most of the cooking is just as masculine as the one who doesn’t.

Steve Bezner, pastor of Houston Northwest Church, shared these examples with me in a recent conversation. He said once he saw machismo was being confused with spiritual maturity, it changed the way he taught and ministered to men in his congregation.

Rather than relying on the warrior as a metaphor for manhood, Bezner said, he extols the character of Christ in all its complexity and finds the men in his church doing better as a result.

Defining ‘industry’

Certainly, the line between offering a creative work or product and becoming an industry can be fine. Lessons and sermons on character and godliness in all our roles are good and necessary. I think in particular of someone teaching principles of manhood to prison inmates or the fatherless and, in doing so, changing lives in important ways.

Moreover, the people who speak, write and teach these things certainly are worthy of their pay. The fact something costs something doesn’t make it an industry.

But messages that gather into a storm of books, conferences, videos, courses, workbooks, workshops, websites, podcasts and statements are inarguably an industry. Furthermore, when the industry is fronted by celebrities and personalities—often the sock puppets of bigger names behind the curtain—the message risks being lost behind the messenger.

And when the people behind the industry don’t live up to or even believe the message themselves, then it’s a scam. Even if the message is true. Like all machines, industries can eat people alive. And such machines distort or destroy the gospel message itself.

The industry cycle

In my recent book The Evangelical Imagination, I devote an entire chapter to the notion of “improvement,” showing how this early modern concept contributed to the rise of the self-help movement in the 19th century and has spilled over into Christian thinking and practice today. Many of the publications centered on “biblical manhood” and “biblical womanhood” are just a continuation of this Victorian—and secular—movement.

Indeed, as Daniel Vaca shows in Evangelicals Incorporated: Books and the Business of Religion in America, over the course of the 20th century, the publishing industry created a “commercial religion”—one in which publishers and booksellers create consumers’ desires, along with the authors and celebrities constructed to fill those needs. What follows is a vicious cycle that cultivates the demand that perpetuates the supply.

Thus arose the “evangelical industrial complex,” a term coined by Skye Jethani in 2012. The phrase alludes to a similar one made famous by President Dwight Eisenhower in his 1961 speech warning of the unintended consequences of America’s unrestrained expansion of the military and its self-perpetuating arms industry: the military industrial complex.

Both the military industrial complex and the current-day evangelical version are driven by systemic economic forces, Jethani explains. In the case of the evangelical industrial complex, the driving economic power is the Christian publishing industry.

And the unintended consequence in this case is the endless proliferation of images of manhood—and womanhood—that ever expand an appetite they cannot satisfy, yet lead further and further away from the one and only One who can.

Karen Swallow Prior was research professor of English and Christianity and Culture at Southeastern Baptist Theological Seminary and is the author of several books. The views expressed are those of the author.

Baptists need to face two factors affecting our future. I hear some asking, “Only two?” No, but we have to start somewhere.

When thinking about our future, Baptists need to face the Southern Baptist Convention sexual abuse crisis and the decline of interest in denominations. These are interrelated, and facing one will include the other.

Both factors are significant, but neither is a death knell for Baptists if taken seriously and faced with the hope of the gospel.

Sexual abuse crisis

Baptists—Southern and otherwise—must come to grips with the consequences of the SBC sexual abuse crisis. Among a host of consequences, they must take seriously how many in the younger generations perceive the crisis and are responding to it. That statement has two parts.

Younger generations

By “younger generations,” I’m not referring to teenagers and 20-somethings. I’m referring to people in their 30s, 40s and 50s. For churchgoing Christians, those three decades are the “younger generations.” To use generational labels, these are the Gen Xers and Millennials.

A large portion—but not all—of Gen Xers and Millennials have given up on the church. Many have left the church—whether leaving organized religion or Christian faith altogether—and become part of the nones.

Many among the younger generations are responding to the crisis with anger—and rightfully so. They don’t expect the church and its leaders to be perfect, but they do expect the church and its leaders to respond to evil with less hypocrisy and duplicity.

The hypocrisy and duplicity are bad enough. That they became a pattern is, for many younger adults, unforgiveable. The pessimist in me doubts the church ever will win all of these younger adults back. The optimist in me knows there always is hope. For one, not all younger adults have given up on the church.

Perception management

As for how younger generations perceive the sexual abuse crisis, they see it for what it is—a horrific evil leaders addressed with perception management.

Baptists—Southern and otherwise—need to stop perception management. Beyond the evil of the sexual abuse itself, Baptist leaders’ default to perception management for so many things has poisoned the denominations’ future. More importantly, perception isn’t what needs to be managed anyway.

Instead, Baptists and their leaders must earn trust again. And it won’t be easy, won’t feel good and likely won’t happen quickly. We need to stop making excuses, stop putting the blame on the abused or other Baptists, and suck it up and do the hard work of righting the wrongs—even if we don’t think we are responsible for those wrongs.

Notice my use of “we.” We need to accept this is our problem, not their problem—even if we don’t think we are responsible for the problem.

Denominational disinterest

Baptists—Southern and otherwise—also must come to grips with the fact people are less and less interested in denominations of any kind. It doesn’t mean they’re not interested in Christianity, but rather that they may not care what form it takes, despite how much is invested in the name “Baptist.”

Disinterest in denominations has been building for decades for a host of reasons. The sexual abuse crisis aggravated the decline but did not initiate it. Recurrent infighting is another significant contributor to denominational decline.

Infighting

I have heard older generations bemoan the demise of Training Union. Many older Baptists credit Training Union with the SBC’s explosive growth during the late 1950s through the 1980s, when the Convention Press curriculum was nearly ubiquitous in Southern Baptist churches. When churches stopped doing Training Union, churches stopped growing, so they say.

But the truth is more complicated than that. Even if Training Union was started again, simply teaching people how Baptists do church isn’t going to make people interested in the denomination again. For one reason, denominational infighting has turned off a lot of people since Training Union was a thing—and Training Union didn’t prevent that infighting.

When the SBC infighting became too big to contain within annual meetings, younger generations didn’t only lose interest in the Southern Baptist denominational label, many found it distasteful. Some joined other denominations, plenty opted for nondenominational churches, and others simply left.

Baptists—Southern and otherwise, but especially Southern—need to accept this and accept what it will take to repair the damage done inside and outside the SBC—if repair is possible.

Why people don’t care

Why people are disinterested in denominations should be taken seriously. Churches and religious leaders should ask people why they don’t care and should listen without trying to convince of the rightness of one’s denominational allegiance. It’s likely the reasons will involve more than how much one does or doesn’t know about Baptist distinctives.

When the time is appropriate to extol the virtues of Baptist ecclesiology, it might be more productive to explain how Baptist distinctives enable a person to follow Christ more closely than to argue Baptist is the best way to do church. I think most people interested in Christianity are more interested in following Christ than in denominational principles, anyway.

Interrelated factors

Going back to the SBC sexual abuse crisis: If Baptists want “Baptist” to be relevant in a positive way, they will have to convince the disaffected and disinterested that “Baptist” is not an accomplice to evil. Baptist polity—specifically local autonomy—was Baptist leaders’ main defense throughout the sexual abuse crisis.

Many have been hurt in various ways by Baptist churches. That’s another thing we need to come to grips with. Those hurt by sexual abuse and how Baptists handled it know about local autonomy all too well. Local autonomy was raised as the reason Baptist leaders just couldn’t do anything about sexual abuse.

However cherished the principle of local autonomy may be or should be, Baptists must face the fact many people see it—and likely other Baptist distinctives—as a means to ungodly or evil ends.

Baptists also will need to convince the disaffected and disinterested that Baptists aren’t full of themselves. As much as I believe in Baptist distinctives, Baptist is not the pinnacle—the perfect expression—of Christianity. Nor is any other denomination.

Accepting these things does not diminish what it means to be Baptist. I believe it goes the other direction. Accepting these things and facing them squarely can enlarge what it means to be Baptist.

Accepting entails acknowledging. It’s not easy to accept or to acknowledge what we don’t like, but if our gospel proclamations are to be believed, we must take that first step of admitting where we have fallen short. And we mustn’t stop there.

Eric Black is the executive director, publisher and editor of the Baptist Standard. He can be reached at eric.black@baptiststandard.com. The views expressed are those of the author.

After graduating from college and relocating to Fort Worth with no job or money, I knew only one person in the city—my new roommate. We were broke and strapped for cash and soon realized our apartment had no kitchen glassware.

We prayed, and God answered our prayer most unexpectedly, as he may also do for you.

To attract more customers, McDonald’s ran a promotion where people could visit a restaurant, sing the Big Mac jingle and receive a free McDonald’s glass. We didn’t even have to purchase anything.

So, my roommate and I ventured out one Friday night, with no singing ability whatsoever, hit three McDonald’s and sang the jingle: “Two all-beef-patties, special sauce, lettuce, cheese, pickles, onions, on a sesame seed bun.”

And happily, we returned to our apartment with six free drinking glasses.

Our method may seem unusual, but sometimes God answers prayers in ways we might not expect or even understand.

What is prayer?

Prayer is a divine tool given to us by God to develop intimacy with him. He provides us with this gift because everyone is important to him. It is not an attempt to get goodies from him. The primary purpose of prayer is to communicate with the Lord—to get to know him and his will and to align our desires, prayers and lifestyle to his purposes for our lives.

Prayer may include asking, thanking, praising, lamenting and confessing. The biblical examples of prayer portray God as a God who listens, not a distant deity who must be cajoled into attending to humanity’s affairs.

As I state in Answer Me: Developing a Heart for Prayer—and is worth repeating over and over: “Believers are called to pray. God can do whatever he wants, but he delights in working through our prayers. Sometimes, we hesitate to pray because we do not believe that there will be results” (p. 17).

Praying is not about goosebumps and our emotions running high. It means being “in the zone” where we communicate with God openly and honestly about what is on our mind. Spending time in God’s presence and meditating on God’s word helps us pray and see the will of God for our lives.

The Holy Spirit’s role in prayer

God’s Holy Spirit searches our hearts to convict, correct and encourage us on our journey. He makes us aware and sensitive to our need for Jesus Christ. Through prayer and Bible reading, we see areas where we need to confess.

If we don’t know how to pray, the Holy Spirit helps us by giving us divine assistance and guidance. When we read God’s word, the Spirit helps us understand God’s ways. When we pray, he helps us pray according to God’s will because he knows God’s mind.

Prayer is one thing we can do anytime, anywhere. Many encourage us to start the day with prayer first thing in the morning. That is when I pray. However, I would not be legalistic about setting a time. If it works better for someone to pray and read their Bible in the evening, they should do it. What is essential is to establish consistency about when and where you pray and spend time with the Lord.

How does God answer our prayers?

“Yes.”
“No.”
“Wait. Not now. Slow down.”

We must understand a “no” answer is an answer, because God answers prayers.

When God’s answers are not in line with our wishes, it could be because we are asking contrary to his will, or he may have something better for us.

We may not be ready yet to receive his answer, or God is using our waiting time to strengthen our faith, prepare us for the answer or mature us in his word.

Keep preserving in your prayers.

Why is waiting so hard?

Waiting is hard because we want what we want right now. We don’t like to wait for anything or anyone, including God. Waiting feels like suffering, but what we do while waiting is essential.

Everything happens because God either wills it or allows it. Because God engages in everything, who better can answer our prayers than he who sees the big picture unfolding in our lives?

Miracles or divine interventions come from God. He can do more than we can ask or imagine, because nothing is impossible for our all-powerful God.

The Bible is our instruction manual for a godly life. Reading and memorizing God’s word is essential for praying God’s will and living a life that honors him. God will not grant us a desire contrary to his word. Still, he always will keep his word, even though Satan attempts to undermine the power of the holy Scripture.

Pastor, professor and author Leslie T. Hardin said, “The universe is not governed by fate; God is in control of every occurrence” (“Prayer” in The Lexham Bible Dictionary). Hardin is correct.

Just as God made way for my roommate and me to get free glasses, I hope you will trust him to guide you as you submit to his will.

As my former pastor Bob Harris joyfully said when God astounded him by answering his prayers, “Lord, you’ve got to be kidding me!”

I want to be joyfully astounded when I see the mighty and unusual ways God may answer my prayers. God knows what is best for me. And he knows what is best for you, too.

Patti Greene is a graduate of Baylor University and Dallas Baptist University, a member of Second Baptist Church in Houston, and the author of seven books. The views expressed are those of the author.

(RNS)—Not long ago, I stood in my front yard and did something I’d been procrastinating about for months.

I put up a yard sign.

It’s a simple sign—a heart, decorated with stars and stripes, sits on a background above five simple words: “Hate has no home here.” The message is repeated in five other languages—Urdu, Korean, Hebrew, Arabic and Spanish.

It’s a message so simple a child could understand it—in fact, the message on the sign was coined by an elementary school student from the north side of Chicago, where all those languages are spoken.

The signs, designed by a friend who is one of the student’s neighbors, went viral in 2017 during the protest over what became known as the “Muslim ban,” an executive order barring entry to immigrants from a number of countries, most with Muslim majorities.

The ban was seen as an attack on immigrants—and a sign of the greater polarization in the country, where we define ourselves more and more by who we hate.

We had a similar sign in front of our place in Tennessee, in part because my friend designed them. When we moved a few years ago, the sign got lost. It took me a while to order a new one. Then the new sign sat unopened for more than a year in its package on a shelf in my office.

Why?

Because I was concerned about living up to the words on the sign, which I have begun to read differently over the past few years.

To put up that sign meant claiming that hate has no home—not just in my neighborhood but in my own home. And in my own heart.

It’s one thing to reject hateful policies or actions. It is another thing to refrain altogether from hating the people behind those policies or actions—or to keep hate from driving my decisions, especially in a time when we Americans love to hate each other.

The function of hate

Hate makes so many things easier. No more trying to understand complex issues or attempting to see the world through someone else’s eyes or doing the hard work of understanding other people and their points of view.

Things become simple—I am good and the people I don’t like are evil. Anything I do that harms or dismisses or stands in the way of those evildoers is justified.

Let me be clear. There are trivial things I love to hate, like the New York Yankees. I was born and raised a Boston Red Sox fan. Or the fact I no longer can get a chocolate coconut donut at Dunkin’.

There are more serious things we should hate: cancer, or the harm done by sexual abuse in the church and church leaders’ sometimes callous disregard. We should hate intentional and systemic injustice.

But it is all too easy to go from hating things to hating people.

“Hate makes us feel righteous,” wrote social psychologists Kurt Gray and Will Blakey in an essay called “They Hate Me.”

Hate gives us license to feel good being cruel to others. This righteous cruelty drives much of our political discourse today.

There are whole industries of people who sow conflict and distrust for profit or, worse, for the dopamine hits that come with going viral on social media, where hate has become our favorite cash crop.

Wise or foolish?

One of the wisest parables I know comes not from the Bible or other book of wisdom, but from an episode of “Star Trek” called “The Day of the Dove,” which debuted in November 1968.

In this episode, the crew members of the Enterprise find themselves locked in a battle for survival against their fierce rivals, the Klingons. The Klingons believe the crew of the Enterprise attacked without warning. The crew members of the Enterprise thought they were betrayed while on a mission of mercy.

As the fight rages on, each side becomes more convinced of the righteousness of its cause—and begins to accuse its enemies of atrocities that never really happened.

It turns out they all are being deceived by an alien who feeds conflict and who likes nothing more than to feast on hatred, real or imagined. And when the two crews discover the deception—that they are being used—they lay down their weapons. In doing so, they banish the alien from their presence.

“Only a fool fights in a burning house,” one of the Klingons says, in explaining why he gave up hate in that moment.

I fear, in these present days, many of us are fools fighting in a burning house.

And I do not wish to be a fool anymore.

Bob Smietana is a national reporter for Religion News Service. The views expressed are those of the author.

In August 2020, I took on the role of senior pastor of First Baptist Church in Cedar Hill. First Baptist is a historic church, celebrating 175 years in 2025.

The church was started on the outskirts of town on a piece of land now occupied by a cemetery. In the late 1800s, a local Native American tribe raided the church and burned it to the ground, which led the church to move into the heart of Cedar Hill.

The church has been blessed by God to endure many hardships, including the Great Depression, two world wars, the worship wars and a church split. However, the church was facing a bleak challenge that needed to be addressed—steady decline. As the community of Cedar Hill grew, the church experienced a few peaks, but statistics mostly display plateaus and decline.

As the church saw their pastor of 32 years retire, they began to hope for God to bring something new. More than a new pastor, the church hoped for new life, new families and new vision that would change their trajectory.

I was called, knowing the church’s desire to see all the new. As excited as I was, I knew to lead the church effectively to obedience and health, I would need help. God would provide help through Jonathan Smith, director of Texas Baptists’ Church Health Strategy and the creator of Pave.

I was invited to participate in the beta Pave training. During this training, we were given an outlook on the process of revitalization, keys to begin the process in our churches, and a cohort made up of a mentor and five other pastors for the journey.

In the two years since that training, God has done a mighty work in the life of First Baptist Cedar Hill. God is using Pave to bring life back into what once was a declining church. There are three definitive ways in which Pave has provided help.

‘Know Your Church’

The first few months of Pave would require a deep dive into the state of the church. Whereas it was obvious the church was declining, defining the reason was not something that should be generalized.

The church was asked to fill out a survey provided by Texas Baptists that would provide clarity of strengths and weaknesses.

The survey indicated one of our biggest weaknesses was fellowship. I know. How could a Baptist church be struggling with fellowship? More than planning more lunches on the grounds to eat fried chicken and casseroles, we needed the church to be reunited. The church had lost sight of her mission and lost hold of one another.

Additionally, the survey indicated a weakness in discipleship, which I believe goes hand in hand with fellowship. Discipleship is a relational task. If we do not care genuinely for one another, we will not disciple one another.

Defining these shortfalls would impact our efforts to develop vision and strategies for greatest impact. In the months since, leaders have worked to define a healthy and customized plan for discipleship.

This plan features D-Groups—a self-organized group of three to five people meeting regularly to talk about God’s word and life.

We also have begun to promote Mobilized Disciples. This is a person making an intentional one-on-one commitment to help a non-Christian know and follow Jesus and/or to help a fellow Christian mature as a disciple.

This vision, introduced to the church at the close of 2023, is new, exciting and still developing. Currently, we have around 30 people participating in D-Groups. As we continue into 2024, leadership hopes to help train and send out Mobilized Disciples to reach our goal of at least 104 people by 2030.

‘Know Your Community’

Pave also provided us with a Know Your Community report. This report detailed numerous measurables within a 10-mile radius of the church campus—such as population, household income, generations, pet ownership, race and religious affiliation.

These findings indicated a few important realities for the church. First, we have a growing and diverse city. Second, the makeup of the church doesn’t mirror the makeup of our community. Third, the majority of people in our area are uninvolved with a church and/or spiritually lost.

Hearing these realities allowed First Baptist Cedar Hill to understand the mission field that lies before us. These numbers forced us—and continue to force us—to consider how we can engage better the expansive and diverse community around us.

Smith shared that to begin this work, there would need to be a difficult but necessary time of repentance. We needed to confess years of apathy and indifference to the Great Commission. Our issue was not that we did not have the opportunity to advance the kingdom and love of God in Cedar Hill. It was that we had lost sight of that purpose.

The call to repentance was not easy, and I do not believe we have surrendered and confessed fully. However, I genuinely believe when we recognize the grace and purpose of God, the result will be a mighty unleashing of the saints into Cedar Hill and beyond.

‘Know Yourself’

The final understanding Pave has clarified is self-perspective. A good leader must be self-aware, recognizing strengths and weaknesses. Pave provides resources such as StrengthsFinder and books such as Replenish by Lance Witt to help understand who we are and how we might improve.

Additionally, Pave has provided me with pastoral companionship. Pastoring can be a lonely endeavor, but through Pave I have been given a group to journey with. Jonathan Smith, Steve Quinn, Dustin Slaton, Bryan Cawley, Kyle Nieman, Darrell Beggs and Bobby Hicks Jr. have influenced and encouraged me greatly.

For pastors or those who desire to pastor a church in need of revitalization, I cannot recommend Pave enough. Your church, your community and your life will be impacted greatly.

Josh Prince is the senior pastor of First Baptist Church in Cedar Hill. The views expressed are those of the author.

There’s only so much we can care about, but that’s not a reason not to care.

It sounds coldhearted at a time when we need warm hearts. The simple fact is, however, we don’t have the capacity to care about everything. Our bodies, minds and emotions don’t have the ability. And this causes so much friction between and within us.

As strange as it may sound, I came to this realization while driving this morning.

A driving lesson

A white Tesla raced up behind me, zipped into the next lane with what felt like inches to spare, sped past me, zipped back over, then—in the middle of the intersection and with even less room to spare—zipped back over in front of another car, accelerated past the vehicle in front of me, veered back over into our lane and sped up again.

My initial thought was not friendly, though still within the bounds of Christianity. My next thought was: “Maybe they’re late. Or maybe there’s an emergency.” The second thought led to a third.

I remembered when my wife was in labor with our daughter, and the hospital was almost too far away. I tested the speed and handling of our car that night, leaving others to wonder what was wrong with that idiot driver. There was no time for me to slow down to explain.

None of us around that white Tesla this morning knew why the person drove so recklessly. And because we didn’t know, maybe we didn’t care and felt justified in our judgments.

Had we known the reason, would we have cared? Probably not as much as the person driving that Tesla.

All the world’s cares

For those of us who follow the news, these days can feel like a freeway full of reckless drivers during rush hour.

The war between Russia and Ukraine, the war between Israel and Hamas, the global immigration and refugee crisis, genocide in Myanmar, religious violence in India and Nigeria, sexual abuse cases in the Southern Baptist Convention, this election year, the ongoing aftermath of the COVID pandemic and effects of high inflation, plus our own daily concerns—the news makes sure we know about all of it.

But we don’t have the capacity to care about all of that, much less to care in equal measure about it all. By this point, it’s Friday after a long week at work, and we just want to get home.

After a long day at work—with all the stress and worry a full workday can load on a person—we don’t have the capacity to care as much about the other drivers getting home as we care about getting home ourselves.

And yet, the law and insurance and what happens when two cars collide at speed provides at least some incentive to care at least a little bit more about other drivers—if only because they affect what matters most to us.

That last part: Often, our concern for those we don’t know is proportionate to how much their actions might affect our own lives. That’s what economists call “self-interest.”

Caring like Jesus

We never can get completely away from self-interest, but we who follow Jesus must grow beyond it. We must—in Paul’s words—“have the same mindset as Christ Jesus: Who … made himself nothing by taking the very nature of a servant [and] humbled himself” (Philippians 2:5-8).

As we develop the same mindset as Jesus, we also must remember Jesus did not give himself equally to everyone. There were people he didn’t heal or teach. At least once, he sent his disciples to do his work.

I don’t know how Jesus decided who and what to give himself to. I assume he relied on God the Father’s direction, not self-interest, since Jesus said he came to do his Father’s will and not his own (John 6:38). Even so, Jesus often seemed to give himself to those who brought themselves to his attention—the woman who bled, the Syro-Phoenician woman, the centurion at Capernaum, Jairus and others.

Being fully God, surely Jesus cared deeply for all people. Being fully human, it didn’t look like he did. He grew tired, was irritated and even angry with some people, and couldn’t be in more than one place at a time. Living on Earth for such a short time, he physically could do only so much. Jesus had to make choices. Lazarus did die, after all, and not just once.

Our human limitations prevent us from caring about everything, but that’s not a reason not to care about some things. So, what things should we care about? That’s the struggle, isn’t it?

Caring for fellow Christians

Let’s consider Ukraine, which featured prominently in the Baptist Standard this week. Managing Editor Ken Camp and I attended the Plano event in which a delegation from Ukraine made requests for religious, financial and political assistance.

Ken and I demonstrated our concern for our Ukrainian brothers and sisters by attending the event, covering it, and publishing a news story about it and an op-ed by Igor Bandura. We care about what is happening in Ukraine because it involves people—our brothers and sisters in Christ—and a cherished principle—religious freedom.

Ukraine isn’t the only place we care about, but we can only be in one place at a time. And it’s not every day a delegation from Ukraine comes here to visit us.

Life is busy and full, and for those of us not living in the war zone, Ukraine is not front of mind all day, every day. And so, we commit our time, energy and resources—our caring—to things that are in front of us all day, every day. Unfortunately, some of what gets our best doesn’t matter as much.

Caring for what matters

We might have more capacity to care about things that matter if we didn’t give so much of our capacity to caring about things that don’t. Does it really matter who wins the Super Bowl or that the Dallas Cowboys aren’t in it … again?

That question isn’t about football. It’s about scale. Just how much of our time, energy and resources do we need to give to what entertains and comforts us? Enough that it diminishes our ability to pray for and support, in tangible ways, our brothers and sisters around the world?

For all I know, the driver of that white Tesla needed more compassion than judgment from me this morning. It took me a while to find the capacity to care about that.

There’s only so much we can care about. So, let’s make sure we care about what matters.

Eric Black is the executive director, publisher and editor of the Baptist Standard. He can be reached at eric.black@baptiststandard.com. The views expressed are those of the author.

In August 2023, I joined more than 100 other Texas professional chaplains in signing a letter opposing a law that would use school safety funds to employ chaplains.

We saw multiple oddities in the claims, and I say this as a conservative evangelical Baptist.

Led by the Baptist Joint Committee with the Interfaith Alliance and Texas Impact, we concurred: “Because of our training and experience, we know that chaplains are not a replacement for school counselors or safety measures in our public schools, and we urge you to reject this flawed policy option: It is harmful to our public schools and the students and families they serve.”

No need for the law

I ask, what is the need?

I question the leader who believes chaplains solve all the schools’ problems, seemingly implying there are no honest, healthy, good-hearted teachers or administrators who truly care about their students.

The letter broached parental consent, which to me cancels the need for such a law, and I add children have no need for school religious instruction that ought to be homegrown. Schools should have no say, no favor, no disfavor and truly be neutral to a student’s religion fostered best from home.

Prison, military and hospital chaplains facilitate the religion of those with limited free-world access. The school is not any of those, because the child goes home every day.

Respect of faith

I have defended “respect of faith” to great lengths in several books, because state government favor of one faith actually assaults the authenticity of the very faith favored.

Need? The hidden reason for the law, I believe, is to employ chaplains to dominate children with evangelical faith while lying about neutrality. While few admit that, some are bold, often in reprisal to some radical left that wants to prohibit free exercise of faith.

Religion has been used for political purposes for millennia, and that will continue as long as someone can get a vote or make money. That civil reality will not be changed with the exposure of shysters. That is also the civil reality for faithful Christians, Catholics, Jews, Muslims—name your faith—who supremely value “their religion” to high heaven.

Provisions of the bill

The Texas legislature passed Senate Bill 763 last September requiring all schools to vote on the hiring of chaplains. The House version requiring military qualifications failed in conference. Sen. Mayes Middleton (R-Beaumont) authored for the Senate with four co-sponsors, and Rep. Cole Hefner (R-Mount Pleasant) for the House, with six co-sponsors. All were white Republicans, with one woman, and all likely evangelicals.

The SB 763 modified the Texas Education Code, adding Chapter 23—three tiny paragraphs—saying a school district “may employ … a chaplain to provide support … for students” and “may not employ or accept” a registered “sex offender.” The chaplain is not “required to be certified.”

The prohibition implied some school district might consider such. Yet with that, why did they leave out military specs and a prohibition on proselytizing?

Oddities around the bill

Oddity one: Other elements of SB 763 as introduced add “including chaplains” next to “mental health personnel” and “behavioral health services.” Prima facia, they encoded use of safety funds to hire a noncertified anybody next to mental health professionals? That’s odd.

Oddity two: In August 2023, I emailed the bill’s legislators about history. Who lobbied most? One co-sponsor answered, referring me to the author.

Oddity three: National School Chaplain Association founder and CEO Rocky Malloy was the qualification-neutered bill’s champion, yet his research is top secret. In a video I no longer can locate, Malloy mentioned a “study” where no one in the school could name most of the children, then claimed his chaplains could. They could not share the study or school’s name for the kid’s sake. Integrity floundered.

Oddity four: I asked for the NSCA’s Form 990s and got the 990s for Mission Generation. So, the finances for Malloy’s subsidiary nonprofit are also top secret.

Oddity five: The NSCA website claimed it is “the state of Texas’ preferred provider for training and certification of school chaplains,” which text has been removed from the site, perhaps because of the publication of this article and the myriad of others preceding this that decried the absence of basic qualifications. Or maybe, simply trying to address the letter we Texas chaplains signed, the text was removed.

Looking closer, they were “proud to partner with Oral Roberts University” in Oklahoma. That certification webpage later was revised to “proud to collaborate with” and added “a minimum of a two-year degree and 2,000 hours of experience” to qualify for their eight-week course, perhaps because the letter mentioned at the start forced a look at qualifications, something not taken seriously in Austin.

Oh my. Tell me that “8-week” course was not the reason our legislators excluded military specs. Whether Malloy hid that in Austin or not, he does think eight weeks is sufficient. For $2,799, the whole tiny shebang includes the required courses of “Active Shooter, Threat Assessment, and Stop the Bleed.” Complete the course, and ta-da, you have NSCA certification.

Oddity six: Malloy’s own words might be the scariest. His website advertises “chaplains” solving all school ills, implying all schools are gravely ill and need his chaplain-saviors to fix teachers and prevent student suicide.

In May 2023, Robert Downen and Brian Lopez reported for the Texas Tribune that Malloy argued, “Chaplains in schools could prevent youth violence, teen suicide and teacher burnout.”

Rejecting proselytizing concerns: “Chaplains ‘are not working to convert people to religion,’ Malloy … told the Senate Committee on Education. ‘Chaplains have no other agenda other than to be present in relationships, care for individuals and to make sure everybody on campus is seen and heard,’” Downen and Lopez reported.

Downen and Lopez noted how Malloy led Mission Generation chaplains to evangelize for decades and recently changed his website to redirect to NSCA.

Professional chaplains sigh at Malloy’s naïve blather, despising his hijacking “chaplain” for a ghostly “counselor” specter without religion, or hiding religion or religious ghosting. I see lying about neutrality to sneak evangelical preaching into public schools, with the above oddities then Malloy’s whole blather becomes a sick model for children.

Michael Maness retired after 20 years as a Texas prison chaplain and is the author of several books, including How We Saved Texas Prison Chaplains 2011 and When Texas Prison Scams Religion. This article is republished by permission from PreciousHeart.net and Tyler County Booster and revised. The views expressed are those of the author.

RE: SBC presidential nominees

I’ve been through enough “move the SBC more to the right” campaigns then I could wish for. I remember sitting in Dr. Ray Summers New Testament class at Baylor, attending First Baptist Church in Waco with his daughters, and finding out how he ended up at Baylor with the seminary “purge” of 1958.

I graduated from Southern Baptist Theological Seminary in 1976 following the retirement of Dr. Duke McCall and watched how Al Mohler ascended to the presidency there, only to watch him and other conservative men—such as Paige Patterson and Paul Pressler—swing the Southern Baptist Convention back to the right in the 1980s and ’90s, and cap off their campaign with the Baptist Faith and Message 2000.

We don’t need another “white knight” to lead us in a swing to the right because he and others think the SBC is getting too liberal. Do what those who formed the Cooperative Baptist Fellowship did and form your own group. What a great way to siphon off Cooperative Program funds to meet your own personal agenda.

I hope the messengers at the 2024 SBC annual meeting will thwart these folks again and not vote them into any positions of leadership. Deny them the platform they seek, and maybe they’ll go back into the woodwork.

Rev. Bob Gillchrest
San Diego, Calif.