It never occurred to me as a child, when we sang “I’m in the Lord’s Army,” that that might be used to describe the U.S. military.

It never occurred to me when I was being taught dispensationalism as a child and teenager that that interpretation of Revelation would ever be official U.S. military doctrine. Tim LaHaye and Jerry Jenkins didn’t seem to envision that possibility either in their Left Behind saga.

If recent reports are true, some in the U.S. military are being told they are essentially the army of the Lord and will usher in the Second Coming of Jesus Christ.

However true these reports may be, whether the reported comments are official doctrine or not, just the idea such an interpretation might be communicated by ranking military personnel to their subordinates raises concerns worthy of consideration.

What’s being reported

According to reports circulated the last few days, U.S. military personnel have been told the U.S./Israeli military campaign against Iran is a “signal fire … to cause Armageddon and mark [Jesus Christ’s] return to Earth.”

It is unclear if the reported statements were made by a single commander or were made more broadly.

The Military Religious Freedom Foundation, which is no friend of President Trump, claims to have received these reports from service members. As of March 2, the MRFF reported more than 110 complaints.

“The MRFF is keeping the complainants anonymous to prevent retribution by the Defense Department,” according to Jonathan Larsen, who covers the MRFF.

At the time of this writing, other outlets are trying to corroborate these reports. Some have contacted the U.S. Department of Defense and are awaiting replies.

If the reports are accurate, they raise real-time concerns. If the reports are inaccurate or simply untrue, we should still consider the hypothetical concerns they raise for biblical interpretation, religious liberty, and the separation of church and state.

Biblical interpretation

Of the possible interpretations of the book of Revelation—and there is more than one possible interpretation—the dispensationalist reading informs what was reportedly said.

According to the MRFF’s and Larsen’s report of an email, an anonymous non-commissioned officer said his commander said not to be afraid about “combat operations in Iran,” that troops were to be told “this was ‘all part of God’s divine plan.’”

The commander then reportedly said, “President Trump has been anointed by Jesus to light the signal fire in Iran to cause Armageddon and mark his return to Earth.”

According to a dispensationalist reading of Revelation, Armageddon is a future battle tied to Jesus’ return. Other interpreters believe Armageddon—and most or all of Revelation—refers to past events, such as the destruction of Jerusalem by Rome in A.D. 70.

Regardless how a person interprets Revelation, there is nothing in any of the apocalyptic passages in the Bible to support the presumption our president and our military are God’s instrument to inaugurate Jesus’ return.

We ought to be concerned by such a hubristic assertion. And if a U.S. military commander really did instruct other officers to disseminate that claim, we ought to be concerned about how our military is being motivated to go into battle.

Religious liberty

Likewise, if a particular dispensationalist reading of Revelation is used to justify military action, a different interpretation might be designated unapproved.

What happens when the military or government decides what constitutes an approved reading of Scripture? We already know if we know our history. When the government determines the approved interpretation of Scripture, some Christians will be punished for understanding Scripture differently.

We should be concerned if a single interpretation of Scripture is elevated to the level of or privileged as official doctrine. It’s a small step from there to designating other interpretations as invalid, unpatriotic, or worse.

Furthermore, patriotism is not a legitimate criterion for proper biblical interpretation. Inasmuch as patriotism is loyalty to an earthly system, Scripture shapes patriotism. Never the other way.

Separation of church and state

From the beginning of the Protestant Reformation through the American colonial period, Europe was rocked by repeated wars between Christians. Millions of people were killed. The Enlightenment was, in large part, an effort to end religious wars by limiting the power of religion to start them.

The United States was founded in large part on those Enlightenment principles, religious liberty and the avoidance of religious war being primary among them.

If a U.S. military commander told subordinates the campaign against Iran is to cause Armageddon in service of Jesus’ return, that would be to blatantly return the United States to the kind of religious war we have tried to avoid, with mixed success, for centuries.

Indeed, to claim the U.S president and military are actively fulfilling apocalyptic Scripture takes the current abandonment of separation of church and state to a new level. If U.S. military personnel really have been told they are fulfilling Revelation, then we’ve blown past “In God we trust.”

If the reports are true, the U.S. military is no longer simply referring to a generic “God.” Instead, it is identifying a named president as “anointed by Jesus to light the signal fire … to cause Armageddon and mark [Jesus’] return to Earth” (emphasis added, because Jesus is much more specific than the “God” of America’s civil religion).

Testing our principles

It may turn out the reports aren’t true, or they’re inaccurate, or they’re overblown. Even if any of that proves to be true, it’s a worthy exercise to examine our principles against their distortions.

If our principles really are grounded in Scripture, we must be cleared-eyed about them and embody them rightly.

Obedience to Christ is at the core of our principles and calls for repentance and faithfulness to him, whatever the time may be.

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 in this opinion article are those of the author.

This year is our 140th anniversary as the Baptist General Convention of Texas. Those leaders and churches who first established the BGCT did so for the purpose of cooperating in evangelism, missions, benevolence, and Christian education.

Part of our legacy as Texas Baptists has to do with what we call institutions. By that we mean universities, seminaries, colleges, academies, hospitals, human care agencies, and others. Currently, Texas Baptists collaborate with 30 institutions and ministries.

This includes 15 educational institutions, five hospitals, four human care agencies, two financial services organizations, one news publication, two missions organizations, one ethics ministry, and one global Baptist body. This is in addition to Baptist encampments in Texas and local associations.

No other state convention relates to that many institutions. In fact, there are many national Baptist conventions that do not either. That makes Texas Baptists a very unique convention.

We believe these institutions and ministries are key partners in living out the Great Commandment and the Great Commission.

Historic scope of collaboration

Through Christian higher education, theological education, healing ministries, hospital chaplaincy, the care of vulnerable children and senior adults, the sharing of information, and engagement in missions, we are loving God, loving our neighbor, and making disciples.

Some of the institutions with which we cooperate are older than 140 years, such as Baylor University and Buckner International. Others were started by the BGCT.

Did you know Southwestern Baptist Theological Seminary was started under the auspices of the BGCT in 1908?

During the first few years of the 20th century, San Marcos Baptist Academy (1907); Wayland Literary and Technical Institute, now Wayland Baptist University (1910); and the College of Marshall, now East Texas Baptist University (1912) were established. Many others were established during the rest of the 20th century.

See Leon McBeth’s Texas Baptists: A Sesquicentennial History to learn more about these and other Texas Baptist institutions.

Most, if not all, of the institutions Texas Baptists relate to have grown and matured in multiple ways. They have developed excellence in their mission and work. They have developed donors and grown their campuses. This evolution over the decades has led to multiple developments in the way the BGCT relates to them.

Collaborative relationships

The BGCT does not control nor own any of these institutions. They each have their own governing board. In some cases, the BGCT elects a simple majority of the institution’s trustees. In other cases, messengers elect a small minority.

Financial support from Texas Baptists varies according to the nature of the relationship and agreement. In some cases, the support consists of scholarships or advertising. In other cases, there is no financial support. And yet in others, the BGCT is the recipient of financial benefit.

That is another way in which Texas Baptists is different from many other state conventions. Our relationships are based on agreements between the organizations to collaborate for the sake of God’s kingdom. The Great Commandment and the Great Commission advance as we cooperate together.

When churches give through the Texas Baptists Cooperative Program, they get to have a part in these great ministries of evangelism, missions, benevolence, and education. We get to do more together for the glory of God.

That’s our legacy—140 years of loving God, loving people, and making disciples through education, human care, information, finances, and missions. Thank you for being a part of that.

Julio Guarneri is executive director of the Baptist General Convention of Texas, known as Texas Baptists. Baptist Standard is the news publication referenced in paragraph three.

In my last opinion piece, I mentioned a concept—intellectual hospitality—that might be unfamiliar to some readers. I want to unpack the concept here and explain why I think it is relevant for our current political, social, theological, and evangelistic context.

Defining intellectual hospitality

Intellectual hospitality has been used by a wide range of writers to describe a disposition that welcomes others into our own mental and spiritual world. Such a disposition looks upon the narratives, questions, and convictions of others with openness and curiosity rather than suspicion and fear.

It recognizes we will disagree with the ways others interpret their experiences and construct their mental frameworks, but it sees these disagreements as opportunities to learn and grow.

To be clear, I use the term in an informal way, not intending to endorse or disavow the ways more disciplined writers construe this kind of hospitality. Nevertheless, I think the concept could be a helpful one as we try to engage a pluralistic society in a more wholesome and productive manner.

The utility of intellectual hospitality

The roots of my interest in intellectual hospitality run deep. I grew up as a culture warrior, but I also grew up with a temper and with a painful awareness my anger over political and moral issues put a strain on my relationships.

I knew I needed better models for handling conflict than I had, but I also knew I needed an intellectually defensible framework for guiding my conduct in public discourse.

So many people in my family and church took a combative approach to disagreement, and doing something different would bring me into conflict with these early shapers of my identity.

Many people in the same situation turn to civility as a descriptor of healthy public discourse, and it is not hard to understand why.

In his book Love Your Enemies, as well as in his Trinity Forum lectures, Harvard University economist Arthur Brooks argues civility is too low a standard for the Christian. For Brooks, treating others with anything less than the love Jesus demands is a betrayal of our faith and a danger to democracy.

I admit, sometimes Brooks rubs me the wrong way. Sometimes, I just want to give full vent to the rage that, in my own mind, is so well-deserved, and I don’t want some do-gooder egghead looking over my shoulder and judging my every word.

But whether I like it or not, Brooks is right. Even in the arena of intellectual combat, we are called to live out the high calling of God. Just as material hospitality has always been an essential part of the Christian ethic, so also welcoming the intellectual stranger and treating them the way we would want to be treated should be second nature to us.

Defending intellectual hospitality

Can we defend such a posture theologically? After all, as I observed in my last essay, Jesus’ rhetoric was often harsh by modern standards, and Paul could get pretty salty, too (see, for example, Galatians 3:1; 5:12).

Moreover, Brooks does not adequately address those instances where a person, an institution, or an ideology is completely eaten up with evil, and 2 Peter and 1 John are just two of the biblical books that condemn in the strongest terms those who distort the Christian faith.

Nevertheless, I am convinced we can defend the practice of intellectual hospitality on theological grounds.

First, all humans are created in the image of God. This means, among other things, all humans have the intellectual, emotional, and spiritual capacities to relate to God and to other people, to think critically about issues of importance, and to evaluate differing alternatives in terms of their conformity to the standards of righteousness and justice.

Doubtless, these capacities vary widely from person to person, which is why we must always practice discernment, a skill the Bible repeatedly recommends. Nevertheless, the fact God has made us in his image also means we are meant to figure out life together. We cannot do that if we do not listen to one another.

Second, humility is one of the most important virtues we can cultivate. In the intellectual arena, humility does not mean denying our own giftedness or de-emphasizing our own convictions. Sometimes, we are right, and retreating from what we know to be true only hurts our witness for Christ and our participation in the democratic process.

Rather, humility means properly assessing our knowledge vis-à-vis those with whom we are in dialogue. It means recognizing we are not the final authority in all truth, and our story is not the paradigmatic story for every human on earth.

Humility means being open to the expertise of others. It also means being sympathetic with their experiences as they describe their journey through a fallen and confusing world.

Intellectual habits matter

If you find all this talk about respecting others and listening with curiosity a little off-putting, please understand, I get where you are coming from.

Moreover, as a South African friend of mine observed more than 25 years ago, we Americans can be a little too sensitive to criticism and a little too quick to condemn good-faith efforts at constructive feedback.

Furthermore, I have some misgivings about my role in promoting intellectual hospitality. Those who know me well know I am not even close to a perfect representative of what I promote. There are still instances where my frustrations with those who can’t seem to “get with the program,” from my point of view, boil over.

Still, I am convinced we need a new approach to bearing witness in the public square. Whether we have access to the most influential platforms available in our society or only have the ear of those we love the most, we can all examine the habits that form our discourse.

Doing so will push some of us to be more courageous in speaking on behalf of the truth, but my guess is, some of us will need to recalibrate how we come to terms with and respond to disagreement. And some of us may even need to decide ahead of time that we are going to talk less and listen more.

The radical pluralism that characterizes our society and the substantive disagreements it produces do not mitigate the need for intellectual hospitality. They intensify that need.

We cannot afford to expend precious political and relational capital on things that do not matter. People need to know, when we clinch our fists and angrily demand action, it is for a good reason.

Most of all, we need to rebuild the trust our neighbors once had for those most publicly devoted to Christ, reminding them we really are committed to pursuing the truth and promoting the welfare of all.

Wade Berry is pastor of Second Baptist Church in Ranger and has been resident fellow in New Testament and Greek at B.H. Carroll Theological Seminary. The views expressed in this opinion article are those of the author.

Imagine a gift.

You open the door one morning, and there it is on your doorstep. You would think it’s another Amazon delivery, but Amazon delivers brown boxes with the blue smile on them.

This one is a white-wrapped box with a red ribbon.

You check your Ring camera. You see no one recorded making the delivery. Yet, sometime in the night, someone dropped the thing off on your front doorstep, so first thing that morning, you’d find it as you headed out for a new day.

You pick the gift up. You shake it gently. There seems to be several things inside the box. You pull it to your ear to make sure there is no ticking noise. You check your hands to make sure there is no white powder falling from it. Of course, you are suspicious.

There is no note on the gift. You look both ways outside your door. You then walk down the front sidewalk, wondering if you can catch a glimpse of some nice neighbor who dropped something off for you. But again, there was no one on the Ring camera.

Opening the gift

With this, you go back inside your house, carrying the white package with the red ribbon. You lay the gift on your kitchen table. You take some scissors and cut the red ribbon. You then begin to pull open the shiny white wrapping paper. Beneath, you see a box.

You take the scissors and cut the tape holding the box flaps shut. Inside are all kinds of little gifts—little in size, but not necessarily little in value.

What amazes you is every gift inside the box is what you have been wanting, things you have been praying for.

You cannot get over the kindness of the stranger who dropped off the box. But then again, this could not be from a stranger, for no stranger would know what you have been needing and wanting. No, this must be from a friend or a loving family member. But who?

You will ask around. You will gently investigate over the rest of the day. But more, you will enjoy the gifts you have received in that white box with red ribbon.

You are so grateful: “How did they know? And what great timing!”

The gift of every day

Every day is a gift from the Lord—white in purity, wrapped with a beautiful red ribbon sanctified by the blood of Jesus.

With each gift of a new day, there are blessings awaiting us: answers to prayers, help in time of need, acts of love, opportunities to serve, new things of God to discover, fellowship with the Lord and others, longings fulfilled, problems to work through to see God’s goodness once settled.

Every day is a gift from God. As we unwrap the gift minute by minute, blessings overflow.

I have been praying each morning as I picture that gift wrapped in white, tied with a red ribbon. I imagine, as I begin my mornings, the satisfaction and unbelievable joy I will feel come evening time.

The Lord is good. His mercy never ends. He is the giver of all good things.

“Lord, thank you for the gift of this new day. Help me to serve you in it, to walk with you through it. I cannot wait to see the blessings you have for me today. In Jesus’ name I pray. Amen.”

Johnny Teague is the senior pastor of Church at the Cross in West Houston and the author of several books, including his newest Thomas Paine Returns with Common Sense. His website is johnnyteague.com. The views expressed in this opinion article are those of the author.

“Speak up for those who cannot speak for themselves. … Speak up and judge fairly” (Proverbs 31:8-9).

What does it take to speak up for those who cannot speak for themselves, to be a voice for the voiceless? What is required?

For Christians to be a voice for the voiceless requires knowing our God, our God’s character, and our God’s commands, and then embodying through faithful obedience what we know about God and God’s commands.

To be a voice for the voiceless requires knowing who doesn’t have a voice. To know that, we must have ears to hear who among us isn’t being heard.

To be a voice for the voiceless requires remembering when we didn’t have a voice ourselves and longed to be heard.

To be a voice for the voiceless requires those with a voice recognizing and appreciating the privilege they have to be heard and to affect the world around them through their voice.

To be a voice for the voiceless requires enough courage to speak on behalf of those whose voices have been suppressed, quieted, discounted, or ignored.

What God requires

For Christians to be a voice for the voiceless requires knowing our God, our God’s character, and our God’s commands, and then embodying through faithful obedience what we know about God and God’s commands.

I could spend the rest of this editorial quoting Bible verses telling us what God requires of us in relation to the poor, needy, powerless, vulnerable, and foreigner. But I won’t do that.

Instead, I will point out that we tend to respond to those verses in the same way the expert in the law questioned the command to “love your neighbor as yourself.”

“Who’s my neighbor?” he asked.

“Lord,” we respond, “we want to obey your word. So we can, please tell us, who are the poor, needy, powerless, vulnerable, and foreigner?”

I picture Jesus, with a look on his face that says, “Seriously?” asking, “Are you kidding me?”

Our problem isn’t we don’t know what the Bible says. We know God defends the vulnerable—the fatherless, the widow, the poor and needy, the oppressed, the foreigner. And we know God’s law commands us, again and again, to do the same.

Our problem isn’t knowledge. Our problem is we want to qualify what we know or what it means to “defend.” Our problem is obedience. Most of us don’t want to be a voice for the voiceless, even if we do want to obey God.

Obedience is worked out in the other requirements I listed above.

Listening for the voiceless

To be a voice for the voiceless requires knowing who doesn’t have a voice. To know that, we must have ears to hear who among us isn’t being heard. The prevailing winds of our culture may deafen us to the voiceless.

In a country like the United States, we may assume everyone has a voice, that everyone has the opportunity to make themselves known. Those who believe that have never been in rooms where decisions are made. I’ve been in some of those rooms, and I’ve seen people who, even though they’re in the room, never get a chance to speak.

I’ve been in neighborhoods so purposely cut off and hidden by city planners as to make them invisible. Most of the residents in many of them don’t have enough money or influence to make city, county, or state governments maintain their communities as well as those same governments secure the value of affluent business and residential districts.

Given our penchant for distraction, we’re just as likely to be ignorant about the voiceless as we are to be willfully deaf toward them.

As with our knowing versus doing of Scripture, our problem is less likely one of knowledge than it is one of will. We probably have a good idea who the voiceless are. We just don’t want to hear them.

“What you did for the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did for me,” Jesus said (Matthew 25:31-46).

Remembering our own voice

To be a voice for the voiceless requires remembering what it was like for us to be voiceless and longing to be heard. It may have been our childhood, but there was a time.

If we have a voice, we must understand its effect and make responsible use of it.

Jesus was born to a poor family among a poor people oppressed by the Roman Empire. Even so, as a man with religious understanding, he understood the authority of his voice, and he used it.

He corrected those who thought he couldn’t be bothered with children. He spoke with and spoke up for women. He healed, forgave, and redeemed—regardless of ethnicity and nationality.

Can the same be said about our voice? Do we use our voice in service of others or in service of ourselves?

“Do nothing out of selfish ambition or vain conceit. Rather, in humility value others above yourselves, not looking to your own interests but each of you to the interests of the others,” Paul wrote, under the Spirit’s inspiration (Philippians 2:3-4).

‘Be strong and courageous’

To be a voice for the voiceless requires enough courage to speak on behalf of those whose voices have been suppressed, quieted, discounted, or ignored.

Fear is a significant obstacle. None of us want to suffer for speaking up or speaking out. And suffering can take many forms.

Perhaps the greatest part of that obstacle is our fear of losing the upper hand if we speak up for the voiceless or if the voiceless are heard. Scripture speaks to this fear also. For example: “Whoever finds their life will lose it, and whoever loses their life on my account will find it,” Jesus said (Matthew 10:39).

Throughout history, the voiceless have been women, children, and the poor. In the United States, voicelessness has lived along racial, ethnic, and socioeconomic lines, as well as the line between the abled and disabled. Speaking up for these voiceless ones has always carried a cost, even if only ridicule and loss of respect.

Might we who have a voice have the courage to follow our Lord’s lead, who even though he was equal with God, emptied himself, became a servant, and humbled himself, being obedient to the point of death?

Might we have the courage to speak up for those who cannot speak for themselves, just as Jesus spoke up for us to the Father?

Will we do so now? Or will we be as though we are voiceless ourselves?

*******

If you are ready and willing to be a voice for the voiceless but are unsure what to do or where to start, the following organizations are just a few that can help.

• Local ministries: food bank, clothing closet, pregnancy center, women’s shelter, or homeless shelter.
• Christian Life Commission
• WMU of Texas
• 21Wilberforce
• Evangelical Immigration Table

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 in this opinion article are those of the author.

Oh sing to the Lord a new song,
for he has done marvelous things!
(Psalm 98:1)

Baptists are known as singing people.

I am a product of the Black Baptist church tradition. My parents often said I began vocalizing melodies after church services even as a toddler. Church music is a major component of my DNA. It has always been my passion, aspiration, and applied formal training.

I began formal piano training at age 12. Musicians were expected to be able to play and lead hymns. Therefore, in my ambition, I set out to play every song in the 1940 Broadman Hymnal used by my church at that time.

I knew little or nothing of composition and poetic metrical forms, origins, narratives, and composers of the hymns. In the early years, it was simply a love for the melodic tones, harmonies, rhythms, and select lyrics of the hymns. As musical training advanced, so also did my understanding of church music, particularly the hymns of the church.

Hymn singing is biblical

Speak to one another with psalms, hymns, and songs.
(Ephesians 5:19; Colossians 3:16 NKJV)

Hymn singing is biblical. The Book of Psalms is the hymn book of the Bible. Psalms were used for worship in the Old Testament. They were also sung in the New Testament. Jesus sang psalms, hymns, and spiritual songs. The early church sang hymns.

Paul and Silas sang hymns at midnight in a prison dungeon. While we do not know exactly what psalms were used, the Bible notes, “The prisoners were listening” (Acts 16).

The singing of hymns is not only biblical. It is also doctrinal.

Our emotions are expressed in the hymn texts and tunes.

Surely, we are privileged to lift our voices in praise to our great and awesome God, our Creator, Redeemer, and Sustainer.

Rich faith heritage of hymns

Through Jesus, therefore, let us continually offer to God a sacrifice of praise—the fruit of lips that openly profess his name.
(Hebrews 13:15 NKJV).

There are more than half a million hymns, according to knowledgeable estimates. What a rich faith heritage has been handed down to the 21st-century body of Christ.

Most of us received our initial theological lessons from the texts of hymns. This is particularly true for African Americans. Our generations of worship were expressed through the oral folklore, messages of hymns, and the spirituals.

Although the earlier Baptist hymnals did not include many of our African American faith traditional music, except for several spirituals and hymns, our biblical and doctrinal heritage were built on this genre.

Black hymns, spirituals, anthems and gospels were important to worship, community, civic, and social gatherings of African American communities in the 1950s, 60s, and 70s.

Rev. Charles A. Tindley

The 1940 Broadman Hymnal and 1956 and 1975 Baptist Hymnal included several hymns of the late Rev. Charles Albert Tindley (1851-1933), the father of Black church hymnody.

While he was a prolific hymnist, only some of his songs were included: “Nothing Between,” “Stand By Me,” and “When the Morning Comes (By and By).”

During the 1950s and 60s, Tindley’s hymn composition “I’ll Overcome Some Day” was adopted by Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. The song’s title was changed to “We Shall Overcome” and became known as the clarion call of the Civil Rights Movement.

Tindley’s “Leave It There” (1916) continues in popularity in Black churches for devotional music.

Thomas A. Dorsey

Tindley and his songs greatly inspired and influenced the late Thomas A. Dorsey (1899-1993), the father of Gospel music, who revolutionized sacred music.

Dorsey’s most popular compositions were “Precious Lord Take My Hand,” “Peace in the Valley,” “When the Gates Swing Open,” “It’s the Highway to Heaven,” and many more.

His compositions and performances expanded the musical genre for countless African American artists, including Sam Cooke, James Cleveland, Mahalia Jackson, Lucie E. Campbell, Doris Akers, Rev. Clay Evans, Billy Preston, Rev. C.L. Franklin, Aretha Franklin, Shirley Ceasar, Dorothy Norwood, and thousands more.

Black national anthem

Modern hymnals such as 1991 and 2008 Baptist Hymnal included the Black national anthem “Lift Every Voice and Sing.” This song is rich in heritage.

The poem was written by James Weldon Johnson and set to music by his brother John Rosamond Johnson. A school performance celebrating President Abraham Lincoln’s birthday debuted the song on Feb. 12, 1900.

“Lift Every Voice and Sing” was sung for the inaugural founding of the NAACP in New York City on Feb. 12, 1909.

This is only the tip of the iceberg of Black hymnody and hymnists. There is much more depth found in the study and performing of the great hymns of African American composers.

Hymns as devotionals

I will sing praise with my spirit, but I will sing with my mind also.
(1 Corinthians 14:15b ESV)

I highly recommend the inclusion of the songs of the church as a part of daily Bible reading and personal devotionals.

Several songs by African American composers and included in the 1975, 1991, and 2008 Baptist Hymnal are a part of my personal, devotional, and testimonial experiences and musical repertoire.

The late Andrae Crouch (1942-2015) and several of his many compositions are found in modern hymnals. “Bless the Lord, O My Soul,” “The Blood Will Never Lose Its Power,” “My Tribute,” “Soon and Very Soon,” “I Don’t Know Why Jesus Loved Me,” and “Let the Church Say ‘Amen’” are church favorites internationally and globally.

Doris Akers’ (1923-1995) “There’s A Sweet, Sweet Spirit” is perhaps her most popular of the 500 compositions she published. The song was born out of a spontaneous prayer revival that originated during a regular choir rehearsal in Los Angeles in 1962.

That night, Doris was consumed by the thought of the Lord’s sweet, sweet Spirit. She got out of bed, picked up a pen and composition book, and began writing to completion the words and music, all in one sitting. The verses and chorus follow.

‘There’s a Sweet, Sweet Spirit’

There’s a Sweet, Sweet Spirit in this place;
And I know that it’s the Spirit of the Lord.
There are sweet expressions on each face,
And I know that it’s the presence of the Lord.

There are blessings you cannot receive
Till you know Him in His fullness, and believe.
You’re the one to profit when you say,
“I am going to walk with Jesus all the way.”

Sweet Holy Spirit, Sweet Heavenly Dove,
You’re right here with us, Filling us with Your love.
And for these blessings, We lift our hearts in praise.
Without a doubt we’ll know that we have been revived
When we shall leave this place.

(Manna Music, Inc., copyright renewed, 1990)

*******

Dr. Roy Cotton Sr. is director of Texas Baptists’ Ambassador Program and has more than 60 years of church music experience. During college, he was the music chairman of the Baptist Student Union at the University of Texas. He is a graduate of Southwestern Baptist Theological Seminary, served 10 years on the faculty of the Lucie E. Campbell Church Music Workshop of the National Baptist Convention USA, and was an adjunct professor of musicology and hymnology at the Baptist Theological Seminary in Richmond, Va.

This year, political xenophobic attacks have focused once again on Muslim Americans—specifically, Sharia law.

In Texas, multiple candidates for U.S. Senate, governor, attorney general, and U.S. Representative have accused Muslim Americans of secretly attempting to enact an Islamic state, promote local control of cities, or seek to undermine Texas law.

Ultimately, these scare tactics, grounded in political expedient assumptions and prejudice, are false and harmful.

Meaning of ‘Sharia’

For a Muslim in America, “Sharia law” is not unlike what some might describe as religious orthodoxy for Christians, Jews, or any other faith.

“Sharia literally means ‘the way or path that leads to the source of water,’” Salih Sayilgan wrote in Exploring Islam: Theology and Spiritual Practice in America. For most Muslims, water is symbolic of spiritual peace or life.

Sharia, then, provides religious guidelines for how Muslims should live their lives ethically and through observance of their faith. Sharia is a spiritual practice, not a system of government for all to follow.

American Muslims oppose religious extremism at the same rate as Americans overall. Additionally, Muslims are quite clear in their teachings that they are to obey the law of the land. In the United States, that law is the U.S. Constitution. However, politicians have sought to exploit fears of this minority faith to procure votes.

Distorting Sharia for political gain would be akin to someone accusing a Christian candidate who claims to live biblically as having plans to stone children, ban certain foods, gouge out sinful eyes, or eat human flesh. These would be ridiculous claims and accusations that stem from proof-texting and misinterpreting Scripture.

The same thing is being done against our Muslim neighbors today.

We can disagree theologically, but we must always speak truthfully.

Political use of misrepresenting Islam

Politicians can afford to misrepresent Islamic teachings since Muslims account for only 2 percent of the population. It is political expediency to make this 2 percent into something sinister and scary in order to influence a majority of the other 98 percent. However, it is wrong to do so and bears false witness against our neighbors.

We must never let political power take advantage of the vulnerable, the oppressed, the minority, or the immigrant. As Christians, we should be on the forefront of the pushback against such untruths, standing in the gap for our Muslim neighbors. We must not reward this type of political malpractice by ignoring or dismissing the accusations as “just politics as usual.”

Unfortunately, when we look back through our history, these types of sordid attacks on minorities usually are politically effective. Whether the most recent xenophobic claim will succeed or not at the ballot box, the accusations against Muslim Americans run counter to truth, religious liberty, and acknowledging the Imago Dei in every human being.

False allegations threaten religious liberty

Baptists would be wise to reflect on how false allegations have impacted fellow Baptists in the past.

In 1774, Baptist ministers were imprisoned in Virginia for failing to conform to the laws in place in relation to tax payments for ministers of the established religious group. Baptists were accused of being a sect, as outsiders who were not assimilating to the established norm of society—some of the same attacks made against Muslims today.

Thankfully, James Madison* witnessed this assault on religious liberty, which compelled his later work on the “Virginia Declaration of Rights” and “Memorial and Remonstrance.” He was committed to protecting conscience and religious liberty, desiring to check governmental coercion and misuse of power against minority religious groups.

Madison’s willingness to stand up for a minority faith helped protect the free exercise of all faiths, leading to an enduring American legacy.

Our failure today to hold those accountable who spread false testimony against our Muslim neighbors imperils the present and future of religious liberty for all faiths.

Love our neighbor

Rather than participate in the fear of others and the misuse of power, American Christians should stand with the religious minority, the immigrant, the oppressed, and the persecuted. Not just in our words, but in our deeds. If we are silent in the face of distorted attacks against our neighbor, we fail to live out the fullness of the gospel.

As Erika Lee writes in America for Americans: “In both the past and the present, xenophobes have argued that immigrants are threats. But it is xenophobia, not immigration, that is our gravest threat today. It is time to reset the terms of the debate.”

Let’s speak truth to power and remember Jesus’ commands: Love God and love our neighbor. These commandments are not just for Sunday mornings, but for our political lives as well, not just for Christians we theologically agree with, but for all human beings.

Jack Goodyear is a professor of political science and a member of a Texas Baptist church. The views expressed in this opinion article are those of the author.

You can read a different perspective on Sharia law here.

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* Joseph Loconte, “Faith and the Founding: The Influence of Religion on the Politics of James Madison,” Journal of Church and State, 2003.

The Ten Commandments are “ordered” by law to be posted in Texas public schools.

The intent? Because we supposedly “support Judeo-Christian values.”

Yet, the Ten Commandments are Mosaic, not Christian. Lawmakers intend Christian influence, which actually violates the intent of the Mosaic law that for 4,000 years was meant to be wholly followed—a whole package—not merely the Top 10.

While revered by all as God’s word and something most people cherish, ordering the posting of the Ten Commandments exposes adult hypocrisies in both lawmakers and schools who do not want to support the whole Mosaic law.

The intent of posting the Ten? To help elementary school kids know they are not to murder, steal, or commit adultery? Or to help high school students know the school demands they have only one God?

Even a casual reader of Deuteronomy cannot escape Moses’ pleading many times for Israel to keep the whole law. For example, Deuteronomy 4:1-2 begins: “Follow them. … Do not add to what I command you and do not subtract from it.” Moses repeats that in many ways for 34 chapters.

Moses meant the whole law, from which the Ten were carved and representative. The Ten were even placed in the ark, not posted, while the whole law was written and taught.

When you see the Ten Commandments posted anywhere, if you respect Moses’ words in Deuteronomy, then you see the Ten as inextricably, inseparably, intrinsically, indistinguishably, and indissolubly part of the whole Mosaic law—a whole package in which the Ten rest.

What the whole Mosaic law requires

Consider the following laws from Deuteronomy:

If a son will not obey his parents, then the elders of the city are to stone that son to death (21:18-21).

If there is no proof of a bride’s virginity, she is to be stoned to death—part of the “law” posted in our schools that no one followed then and will go to prison for today (22:20-21).

If a man rapes a virgin pledged to be married, he is to pay the father 50 shekels, about $15 today (22:23-24). Oh, yes, a lot of men in Texas prisons wish Dan Patrick and Ken Paxton were truly serious about that part of Moses’ law advocated in posting the Ten Commandment.

If two men are fighting and the wife grabs the assailant’s privates, we must cut of the wife’s hand and “show no pity” (25:11-12).

Moses repeats: “The Lord your God commands you this day to follow these decrees and laws; carefully observe them with all your heart and with all your soul” (26:16).

Posting the Ten advocates the whole, if one reads what Moses said. Moses closed with a chapter of curses upon those who fail to obey the whole. Did our Texas lawmakers forget Moses’ chapter full of curses for not following the whole?

Clearly, few of the laws were followed in Moses’ or in Jesus’ time, and no one today wants to follow all of the Mosaic law. No one. Several are even illegal today.

Hypocrisy of Ten Commandments law

Why not make it a law to “love God with all your heart and love your neighbor as yourself?” Order “love?” Ha!

The more practical words of Jesus’ summation of the law into two commands and his immensely useful Golden Rule—“Do unto others as you would have them do to you”—are so valued, they need no law. They are nearly universal to all religions and dearly loved.

Seriously, only the weird would try to encode “love.”

No one in their right moral mind would order “love.” Love can never be ordered. To order schools to post “Love Others Like Yourself” actually cheapens the very words and reveals a moral superiority alien to Jesus’ purest intent.

Worse than ordering “love,” posting the Ten Commandments with no intent to follow the whole demeans the Ten and makes the host schools hypocritical to Moses’ intent and, with respect to Moses’ meaning, obligates those schools to support the ugliest killings totally illegal today.

Worse, the posting law is hypocritical to old Texas laws—perhaps naïvely—making hypocrites of the “biblical” lawmakers.

Worst of all, the Texas law subverts Jesus’ summary and his codicil in the Sermon on the Mount (Matthew 5-7) that clearly says, “Forgive,” and goes against the Mosaic law of “take a tooth for a tooth.”

There is no one in Texas who wants to follow the whole Mosaic law. Yet, the majority of Moses’ words were thrown out by the Texas legislature while they surgically clipped for special attention the Ten, with no intention of giving the whole credibility.

That encoding makes our schools a mockery if an intelligent student asked about why Texas wants to kill girls who are not virgins or stone to death young boys. Very serious affairs.

What our kids deserve

That is sad and ironic, given Texas Monthly’s most recent “Bum Steer Awards,” including a “Top Ken List” about our Texas Attorney General Ken Paxton and U.S. senator wannabe.

The list includes Texas State Senator Angela Paxton divorcing the attorney general on “biblical grounds” and a jab at Angela by Ken’s mistress. There is a stupendous irony in Paxton filing a state lawsuit to post the Ten while boldly violating one.

Our kids deserve more integrity than to be forced to participate in adult hypocrisies, or worse, to be a part of the school’s endorsing the Ten which are a curse-bound part of a whole with laws all find heinous.

Michael Maness retired after 20 years as a Texas prison chaplain and is the author of many articles and books. He holds a Master of Divinity from Southwestern Baptist Theological Seminary and a Doctor of Ministry from New Orleans Baptist Theological Seminary. The views expressed in this opinion article are those of the author. A version of this article previously appeared in the Tyler County Booster.

The current geopolitical moment is fraught with risk. Might has once again gained the upper hand over right. The United Nations has been weakened. Many states, first and foremost the United States, have disengaged from multilateralism and humanitarian efforts, losing interest and credibility to act for peace.

Simultaneously, armed violence and conflict have engulfed numerous nations, including the Democratic Republic of Congo and Rwanda, Pakistan and India, Thailand and Cambodia, Azerbaijan and Armenia, Ethiopia, the Central African Republic, Sudan, and throughout the Middle East.

In this vacuum of moral leadership, the evangelical church is uniquely positioned to step forward. Today’s moment calls for a senior, strategic, and well-resourced evangelical response to the growing threat of violent conflict. We owe it to our brothers and sisters suffering from armed violence and sometimes fighting one another.

My proposal

I propose forming an Evangelical Board of Peace, not as a show of might, because we don’t have might as the world understands might, but as an embodiment of God’s righteousness and his power.

This body would be comprised of evangelical church and ministry leaders, committed evangelicals who previously served in politics and government, and representatives of global evangelical communions and associations such as the World Evangelical Alliance, the Baptist World Alliance, the Pentecostal World Fellowship, and Global Anglicans.

We live in a hyper-connected world where evangelicals have unique and organic access to conflict areas. Evangelical churches are deeply invested in missions, development projects, humanitarian aid, and persecution relief.

Churches in Texas alone have partnerships that reach remote villages in Africa and neighborhoods in megacities. The partnership between Texas Baptists and Ukrainian Baptists is both extensive and illustrative of how connected the global church family is to conflict zones.

Evangelicals possess something governments often lack—trusted relationships at the grassroots and access to leaders across divides.

Through missions, humanitarian partnerships, and church networks, we are present in refugee camps, rural villages, urban centers, and even near the corridors of political power. Our influence, generosity, solidarity, practical unity, and access are real. What is missing is the institutional structure to leverage them for peacemaking diplomacy.

What’s already happening

This is not theoretical. Across the world, local evangelical leaders are already engaged in courageous and fragile peacemaking efforts.

This month, armed violence has resurfaced between the Kukis and Nagas in Manipur, India, both majority Christian tribal groups. Christian leaders who have been mediating peace efforts for decades reached out to 21Wilberforce for support in strengthening domestic peacemaking efforts.

In South Sudan, violence between the government and opposition has reignited fears of another civil war. Bishop Arkangelo Lemi has been at the forefront of peacemaking for decades. When we spoke to him, he appealed for global support so local church leaders could weigh in more effectively on the warring parties to end their violence.

In a war-torn Middle Eastern nation, Christian converts have been rounded up and detained by an armed group. International prayer partners are seeking access to this group to mediate the release of the detained believers.

In 2021, a senior evangelical leader from Ethiopia, alongside Orthodox church leaders, attempted—and failed—to prevent conflict between the government and the Tigray groups.

In 2025, senior Congolese evangelicals, in collaboration with the Congolese Catholic Church, mediated between the Congolese president and the Rwandan president.

In each of these cases, courageous leaders stepped forward. What was missing was not faith. It was a global support structure.

What structure can accomplish

An Evangelical Board of Peace could engage when it is too dangerous for local churches to do so, or come alongside national evangelical peacemakers with strategic, diplomatic, and relational support.

It could manage the vast web of relationships and networks within the global church family, reaching stakeholders across divides and inviting them to the table of negotiation. It could create trusted spaces and forums where off-ramps from violence become possible.

Many government officials and even armed group leaders are, quietly and privately, waiting for such a phone call, for an impartial and credible moral authority to offer a path toward de-escalation. It would be yet another tragedy if that call never comes.

The evangelical church has the relationships, the reach, and the moral credibility. What we lack is the structure to act at scale.

It is time to build an Evangelical Board of Peace.

Wissam al-Saliby is president of 21Wilberforce, a Christian organization advocating for religious freedom and human rights.

Ash Wednesday has a word for us as we vote in the primary elections this year. It’s a word we’d rather ignore in favor of the partying and feasting of Fat Tuesday. We ignore Ash Wednesday’s word to our detriment. Instead, we should heed its message and put it into practice.

What is Ash Wednesday?

We may not know much more about Ash Wednesday than the black “smudge” we see on people’s foreheads one day in late winter. We may assume Ash Wednesday is “a Catholic thing,” and if we’re not Catholic, think it has nothing to do with us. But that would be a mistake.

It is true Ash Wednesday has its roots in the Roman Catholic Church, being instituted as the beginning of Lent by Pope Gregory in A.D. 601. It’s also true Ash Wednesday is a more common observance in liturgical churches. However, some nonliturgical churches have also taken up the practice because of what it signifies.

Ash Wednesday is a reminder of our humanity, our finitude, our creatureliness. On this day, ashes are applied to a person’s forehead in the sign of a cross. The ashes are made from what’s left after burning the palm branches waved in celebration of Jesus the year before.

The one applying the ashes traditionally says some variation of, “Remember, you are dust, and to dust you will return” (Genesis 3:19).

The applying of ashes on the forehead is not merely a religious ritual. It is based on the Old Testament practice of sitting or covering oneself in ashes as a sign or expression of contrition, repentance, or mourning. No wonder we prefer to ignore it.

But we shouldn’t ignore it. The purpose of the ashes and the accompanying prayer, fasting, and meditation is to be honest about ourselves. It is intended to focus our minds on who we are in relation to God. God is our Creator. We are God’s creation. God is holy. We are prone to sin and are dependent on God’s grace. Ash Wednesday reminds us to be humble.

Elections don’t run on humility

This isn’t the first year elections have taken place in the early days of Lent. But this year, the dissonance of their juxtaposition caught my attention.

If you’re like me, your mailbox, inbox, text messages, and voicemail have been overflowing with political ads. If you’re receiving what I’m receiving, you’re not seeing or hearing much, if any, Ash Wednesday-type humility in any of it.

What we’re seeing and hearing is carefully researched messaging and marketing. Political campaigns study what is most likely to get us to vote for their candidates, and they message toward that end. Notice, humility doesn’t factor into their message. No one is selling us a humble candidate. And they won’t until we vote for humble candidates.

Instead, we vote for the boastful. So, each candidate or their campaign is trying to out-Republican or out-Democrat their same-party opponents. They tout their credentials as truer to the cause than the rest. Plenty of them brag and mudsling. Some of them call themselves Christian. From among them, we will reward our chosen candidates with our vote.

When was the last time a candidate was advised to “go out there and be humble?” When was the last time a contrite candidate, a humble candidate won an election? I’m not saying it has never happened, but it’s certainly not common. It might be more so if we voted for it.

Ash Wednesday’s word for us

Our elections are an expression of our culture, and ours is not a humble culture, even among Christians. Ours is not an Ash Wednesday, a fasting-and-repentance culture. So, a candidate can trumpet how uber-Republican or uber-Democrat he or she is, call themselves a Christian, and no one notices the dissonance.

We can “amen” the preacher who proclaims, “God opposes the proud but gives grace to the humble” (James 4:6), then turn around and throw our support behind the proudest candidate. Without noticing the dissonance … or by justifying it.

If we were to stop long enough to observe Ash Wednesday, to contemplate our human finitude and our dependence on God’s grace, we might come face to face with the dissonance between what we proclaim and how we vote. No wonder we want to skip it.

I want to skip it. I don’t want to face my creatureliness, and I don’t like fasting and repentance, either. I really don’t like fasting. I’ll do it for a medical procedure, but only because I have to. There’s some dissonance right there, my willingness to fast for a doctor and my reluctance to fast for God. I’d call that a digression, but it’s precisely the point.

It’s like I wrote last week and is apropos again this week: “I wish I was perfect so I could write this editorial without any hint of hypocrisy.” But I’m not perfect, and I don’t have a high horse to sit on and opine. I, too, need to hear Ash Wednesday’s word and put it into practice.

Practicing Ash Wednesday

I don’t know much or anything about the private religious practices of the candidates on the current ballot. I only know what I see and hear of them in public.

I don’t see or hear much in the flood of political ads in my mailbox, inbox, text messages, or voicemail to indicate the candidates are given to fasting and repentance. Including from some who identify themselves as Christian.

What I see and hear are people appealing to who you and I are privately and publicly. What these people see is we’ve been taught to sell ourselves by any means necessary and that humility is weakness, not strength. They see this even among Christians. Ash Wednesday has something to say about that.

Ash Wednesday opens the season of Lent—40 days of repentant preparation culminating in Holy Week: Palm Sunday, Maundy Thursday, Good Friday, and Even Better Sunday. How ironic it would be for us to give our minds to Christ and our votes to the world.

You and I may not have ashes applied to our foreheads today. Nevertheless, we can be people of prayer, fasting, repentance, and humility—people shaped by Jesus who reflect Jesus to the world.

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 in this opinion article are those of the author.

Our current cultural and political climate has raised a persistent question for me: Do I need to be an expert in immigration law?

I am the son of two immigrant parents who dreamed, risked, and fought for what they understood to be the “American dream.” Whatever one thinks of that phrase, it remains deeply compelling to people around the world who simply want a way out of poverty, persecution, or war.

I am also a pastor in downtown Fort Worth. The current climate—ICE raids, shifting immigration policies, the posture of our federal government, the pain I see on the news, and the relentless churn of social media—has forced me to ask, not only, “What do I say?” But also: “What am I responsible to know? Do I really need to become an expert in immigration law in order to speak faithfully?”

Alongside that question is a quieter but heavier rumbling: “How do I speak up? What if I don’t know enough? What if I get it wrong?”

Those questions weigh on me as a Latino, a husband, a father, and a pastor trying to shepherd people through a cultural moment marked by fear, anger, confusion, and—if we’re honest—apathy.

The church’s citizenship

My experience is hardly unique. Many of us are bombarded with sensationalist headlines, ill-informed hot takes, and a flood of emotions: outrage, exhaustion, and fear. And yet, we were never meant to be experts on every social issue of our day. God has not called his people to provide a comprehensive answer to every political debate.

Although the church has something to say about every cultural and political issue, the church serves a higher purpose than simply reacting to the culture around it.

Being a Christian means you belong to the church—the ekklēsia—a word that historically referred to a political gathering of citizens. Scripture describes believers as citizens of another kingdom, a people whose ultimate allegiance does not rest with any nation-state but with the kingdom of God.

This reality orders our lives and shapes the lens through which we see the world.

As a Christian, I may never become an expert in U.S. immigration law. I am, however, responsible for being formed by the politics, values, and ethics of the kingdom to which I claim allegiance. That means every issue—immigration included—must be viewed not primarily through a partisan lens but through a kingdom one.

What kingdom politics means

Kingdom politics has something to say about how we treat immigrants, sojourners, and the vulnerable. Scripture is unambiguous on this point. God consistently identifies himself as one who defends the outsider and calls his people to reflect that same posture. Our first concern must not be whether a policy benefits us, aligns with our political tribe, or preserves our comfort.

I’ve watched immigrant families flee violence, navigate a maze of paperwork, and wait in fear of the next policy change. Their stories remind us, debates about “immigration” are never abstract. They are about image-bearers with names, faces, and futures.

As citizens of the heavenly kingdom, we live as temporary residents—the Bible’s language is “sojourners and exiles”—in earthly kingdoms, and our values will at times feel out of step with the dominant culture.

Our identity should shape how we engage our neighbors, especially the marginalized.

Language that dehumanizes entire ethnic groups of people, fearmongering toward specific people groups, or an obsession with preserving “heritage” at the expense of human dignity makes little sense for people whose citizenship is grounded, not in bloodline or border, but in a heavenly kingdom.

Kingdom politics leads us to lean in rather than shrink back from public life. But our actions must not be driven by blind loyalty to a party or personality.

We are called to live out our faith with wisdom, winsomeness, and hope. So, yes, vote, protest, raise concerns, call out injustice, and pray for our nation and its leaders—all in light of an eternal kingdom that will outlast every administration.

What to be experts in

Instead of trying to master every legal detail or outsourcing our formation to social media algorithms, we can begin with proximity. Learn about immigration through relationships, not just headlines. Find an organization in your city serving refugees, asylum seekers, or undocumented families. Volunteer your time. Open your home. Share a meal. Listen before you argue.

Do these things because your allegiance to the kingdom of heaven demands it.

Is it necessary for Christians to become experts in immigration law before we can speak with confidence and clarity on these issues? No.

However, we must become experts in welcoming the outcast, confronting injustice, defending the vulnerable, and recognizing the image of God in every person.

The deeper question is not whether Christians can recite immigration policy, but whether our politics—our posture, our language, and our actions—reflect the kingdom to which we claim allegiance and the neighbors Christ calls us to love.

Joel Suárez is the engagement pastor at Paradox Church in Fort Worth. The views expressed in this opinion article are those of the author.

Nuestro clima cultural y político actual ha planteado una pregunta persistente para mí: ¿Necesito ser un experto en derecho migratorio?

Soy hijo de dos padres inmigrantes que soñaron, arriesgaron y lucharon por lo que entendían como el “sueño americano”. Sea lo que sea que uno piense, esa frase sigue siendo profundamente convincente para personas de todo el mundo que simplemente desean una salida a la pobreza, la persecución o la guerra.

También soy pastor en el centro de Fort Worth. El clima actual—redadas de ICE, políticas migratorias cambiantes, la postura de nuestro gobierno federal, el dolor que veo en las noticias y el incesante torbellino de las redes sociales—me ha obligado a preguntarme no solo: ¿Qué digo? sino también: ¿De qué soy responsable de saber? ¿Realmente necesito convertirme en un experto en derecho migratorio para hablar con fidelidad?

Junto a esa pregunta, hay un murmullo más silencioso, pero más pesado: ¿Cómo alzo la voz? ¿Y si no sé lo suficiente? ¿Y si me equivoco?

Esas preguntas pesan sobre mí como latino, esposo, padre y pastor que intenta pastorear a las personas en medio de un momento cultural marcado por el miedo, la ira, la confusión y—si somos honestos—la apatía.

La ciudadanía de la iglesia

Mi experiencia no es única. Muchos de nosotros estamos siendo bombardeados con titulares sensacionalistas, opiniones apresuradas y mal informadas y una avalancha de emociones: indignación, agotamiento y miedo. Y, sin embargo, nunca se supuso que fuéramos expertos en cada asunto social de nuestro tiempo. Dios no ha llamado a su pueblo a tener una respuesta integral a cada debate político o cultural.

Aunque la iglesia tiene algo que decir sobre cada cuestión cultural y política, la iglesia cumple un propósito más alto que simplemente reaccionar ante la cultura que la rodea.

Ser cristiano significa que perteneces a la iglesia—la ekklēsia—una palabra que históricamente se refería a una asamblea política de ciudadanos. La Escritura describe a los creyentes como ciudadanos de otro reino, un pueblo cuya lealtad última no descansa en ningún estado-nación, sino en el reino de Dios.

Esta realidad ordena nuestras vidas y da forma al lente a través del cual vemos el mundo.

Como cristiano, puede que nunca llegue a ser un experto en la ley migratoria de los Estados Unidos. Sin embargo, soy responsable de ser formado por la política, los valores y la ética del reino al que digo que pertenezco. Eso significa que cada tema—incluida la inmigración—debe verse no principalmente a través de un lente basado en nuestro partido político, sino a través de un lente del reino.

Qué significa la política del reino

La política del reino tiene algo que decir sobre cómo tratamos a los inmigrantes, a los forasteros y a los vulnerables. La Escritura es inequívoca en este punto. Dios se identifica constantemente como aquel que defiende al extranjero y llama a su pueblo a reflejar esa misma postura. Nuestra primera preocupación no debe ser si una política nos beneficia, se alinea con nuestra tribu política o preserva nuestra comodidad.

He visto a familias inmigrantes huir de la violencia, navegar por un laberinto de trámites y esperar con miedo el próximo cambio de política. Sus historias nos recuerdan que los debates sobre la “inmigración” nunca son abstractos. Se trata de portadores de la imagen de Dios, con nombres, rostros y futuros.

Como ciudadanos del reino de los cielos, vivimos como residentes temporales—el lenguaje bíblico es “extranjeros y peregrinos”—en reinos terrenales, y nuestros valores a veces se sentirán fuera de la cultura dominante.

Nuestra identidad debe moldear la manera en que nos relacionamos con nuestros vecinos, especialmente con los marginados.

El lenguaje que deshumaniza a grupos étnicos enteros, el sembrar miedo hacia grupos específicos de personas o una obsesión por preservar la “herencia” nacional a costa de la dignidad humana tienen poco sentido para un pueblo cuya ciudadanía está fundada, no en una línea de sangre ni en una frontera, sino en un reino celestial.

La política del reino nos lleva a involucrarnos, no a replegarnos, de la vida pública. Pero nuestras acciones no deben estar impulsadas por una lealtad ciega a un partido o a una personalidad.

Estamos llamados a vivir nuestra fe con sabiduría, gracia y esperanza. Así que sí: vota, protesta, denuncia la injusticia y ora por nuestra nación y sus líderes, todo a la luz de un reino eterno que existirá más allá de cualquier administración.

Cómo participar como ciudadanos del reino

En lugar de intentar dominar cada detalle legal u otorgar a los algoritmos de las redes sociales la responsabilidad de nuestra formación, podemos comenzar con la proximidad.

Aprende sobre la inmigración a través de relaciones, no solo de titulares. Busca una organización en tu ciudad que brinde asistencia a refugiados, solicitantes de asilo o familias indocumentadas. Ofrece tu tiempo como voluntario. Abre tu casa. Comparte una comida. Escucha antes de discutir.

Haz estas cosas porque tu lealtad al reino de los cielos así lo exige.

¿Es necesario que los cristianos se conviertan en expertos en derecho migratorio antes de que podamos hablar con confianza y claridad sobre estos temas? No.

Sin embargo, sí debemos convertirnos en expertos en acoger al excluido, confrontar la injusticia, defender al vulnerable y reconocer la imagen de Dios en cada persona.

La pregunta no es si los cristianos pueden recitar la política migratoria, sino si nuestra política—nuestra postura, nuestro lenguaje y nuestras acciones—refleja el reino al que decimos pertenecer y a los vecinos a quienes Cristo nos llama a amar.

Joel Suárez es el pastor de involucramiento de la Iglesia Paradox en Fort Worth. Las opiniones expresadas en este artículo de opinión son las del autor.