RE: Voices: The light through Christmas depression

Ruth Cook asked an interesting question about depression that carries implications for how Christians respond to a highly psychologized culture.

She pondered, “I wonder if people in Jesus’s day experienced depression?”

The first pages of the Bible answer that question in Genesis 3, when Adam and Eve hid from God after their sin, isolated themselves, and withdrew from life. The first case of depression [was] six millennia before Freud claimed conquest of the psyche like Sir Edmund planting a flag on Everest.

So, yes, people in every age are depressed because of sin.

“How can you say people doing the Lord’s work are sinning?”

I’m not.

But have we considered sin can dress itself in the crisp suit of an over-busy pastor as easily as the torn jeans of a drunk in a gutter, that it wears the frazzled wings of an overworked Christmas play as easily as the skimpy skirt of a Tik-Tok video?

One of the mystiques of modern psychology is it alone possesses knowledge to unravel emotional complexities too sophisticated for the scribblings of prophets. Yet, depression is as old as an apple in a garden.

If our first response to the couple sitting at opposite ends of the couch is always, “You need to be in counseling,” aren’t we saying by default the Bible has no wisdom?

Perhaps it’s time to shoo the skit team off the stage and bring the bread and cup back to the center of the church, where Paul suggests in 1 Corinthians there is a real spiritual feeding on Jesus at the table.

Perhaps it’s time to pull the plug on the Sunday morning monologue about raising kids and return to the fervent preaching of John or Genesis.

Aren’t words of life more life-giving than Prozac?

Ben Mullen
The Colony, Texas

Cleaning out the garage over the holidays, I had time to think about “stuff,” and the new year, and also stuff in so many years past. My path through the garage was a walk of shame, as I cannot avoid really seeing how much I have stored away.

I saved things in categories: things for grown kids who have no space, holiday décor, tools, cleaning and painting supplies, golf equipment, gardening pots, yard care supplies, out of season clothes, and donations.

If an item didn’t fit into a category, it went out to the donation center or in the trash.

We can only store so much before we must let some things go.

I think life is like that, and this new year is like that, too. If we are going to experience new ministries, people, and places, some things need to be sorted and altered while we keep what is important and use it for its highest purpose.

I don’t mean we get rid of people, treasures, tradition, but that we clear a path for new growth.

New growth

In my garden, I have a huge, beloved rosemary plant that over time gets tangled up with weeds. It gets dry and yellowed at times. It needs pruning and deep watering to shoot up and grow toward the light.

Gardening—sorting and untangling stems and roots—we can think about how problems develop and how to facilitate a healthier living thing. Gardening teaches us cause and effect, that things happen when we are not looking.

In the garage, folding and stacking used clothing into tubs feels therapeutic. As my hands smoothed out wrinkles, I recalled how family members looked in the clothes and the memories we made wearing them.

Getting organized and ready for the new year was a time of gratitude. God will help us build on the past in the coming year, in his strength.

Wrapping Christmas ornaments in tissue, packing away dishes, wreaths, cards, and ribbon reminded me how much clutter it takes to make a cozy Christmas. The old glass ornaments are fragile, while the rest of the collectibles seem indestructible over decades.

People are like that, too. In our clearing out for the new year, we are intentional and gentle, never careless with the feelings of others. We also preserve the precious possessions of others as we are able, even if that means having a little less room for ourselves.

Cleaning the garage

I hate to take guests into the garage. Though one’s vehicle may look lovely parked there, how do you make the needed household mops and brooms look attractive? Sometimes, one has to attend to those ugly tools that do the dirty work.

If you stand up cleaning implements in a large trash can so only the handles stick up, they look fairly neat.

This reminds me, as we go into a new year with improved organization, our “old stuff” has to be handled, filed, dealt with. This might mean paperwork filed and financial and giving plans in place. For me, it means my Tupperware and Corning Ware are in stacks in the kitchen and store room, and papers in the office are secure.

This is no easy task. Many of us are drowning in objects and paper.

Our lives are full, especially if we are older and have accumulated a lifetime of things we “might need someday.” Perhaps someday has already arrived, and our junk needs to pass away while we live a life for which we could not have fully prepared.

If you are in your later years, you probably prepared as best you could for life and lived frugally. You saved things. But alas, better things have been invented than what we saved. We can start again without guilt.

Facing the new year

As I face this new year, I never expected to be so old. Cancer treatment has spared my life. All things can be new for me, if I will drop a few things: a few pounds, a few negative attitudes, the hoarded boxes in the garage, a closet full of depressing clothes.

As I drop some, I am lighter and can move better and faster with Christ as he opens the door to the race, the calling that lies ahead. Let me throw aside the hindrances that beset me and run.

Facing the unknown with God is freeing and so much better than drowning in a garage full of weights and anchors.

Ruth Cook is a longtime Texas Baptist. The views expressed in this opinion article are those of the author.

I pulled up to my ranch to feed the cows. There in my grazing pasture, were five buzzards gathered around something with a black pelt.

I walked over to where the animal was. The scavenger birds flew away. There on the ground, a young calf, maybe a week or two old. I don’t care how much or how little they are worth, I never want to lose a calf.

As I drew closer to inspect, the little thing raised its head ever so slightly. It was alive! But for how long? He put his head back down.

I called some friends to shoo the buzzards while I rushed to the veterinarian to get him a shot of penicillin.

You see, I have faced this once before. I had a calf as good as dead a few years back, but with one shot of Sir Alexander Fleming’s miracle drug, that calf recovered. I prayed this would be the case for this one, too.

When I got to the vet, I found they no longer give out penicillin without a prescription for some odd reason. The vet said I would need to bring in the sick calf. Bringing that calf in was going to be a chore, and time was fleeting.

So, I went to a different vet, one I had dealt with many times before. They said the same. I begged them for just one syringe worth. I promised I wouldn’t sell it or use it for myself. In mercy, they gave me the prescription and the syringe. I rushed back to the calf, following the rules of the highway of course.

The calf was still alive.

Raising a calf

Now, the last time I gave a shot to a dying calf, it jumped up and ran, much to my surprise. I did not want that to happen this time. So, I straddled the dying calf like a rodeo star and injected the penicillin syringe into his neck.

Lo and behold, this dying calf did the same thing. He threw me off, then began to run. I could not believe it.

I ran after him by foot. This 62-year-old was never fast, but he still has some game. We ran for two pastures. He went through three fences. I slid between three. He got to my neighbor’s field where he was running toward the highway, far away from his mother and his familial herd.

I ran back to my truck, hopped in, spun out, and off to the races to cut this calf off, while the buzzards shook their heads deciding to go for a more lethargic meal.

I finally caught up to the calf in my neighbor’s field just before he got to the highway. He collapsed like a wind-up toy out of juice.

I walked over to him. He was barely breathing. He put his head down to die.

I had a little medicine left in the syringe. I put what was left of the injection into his neck. He jumped back up, running this time back to my pasture. What energy! No wonder penicillin is by prescription.

I walked after him since he was headed in the right direction. He crossed into my field, then collapsed.

I got in my truck and drove back to my field, right up to his body, lying flat on the ground. He was going no further. He had used what last bit of strength he had.

When you’re down

I knew he was tired. I figured he was dehydrated. So, I got a bottle of water, held his little mouth, opened his lips, and poured some water in.

He did nothing at first, but then he realized it was water. His tongue came out to lick. He drank the whole bottle. I got another bottle. I repeated the practice. He drank it all. Then, he laid his head down to die.

I tried to get him up, but there was no stirring. I tried to pick him up, but he was a tad too heavy. I tried to drag him. He gave no resistance, but I was a long way from the herd.

Finally, I decided to call the herd to me, hoping his momma would see him and help. The cows came slowly, but together. Finally, five of the momma cows came up to me looking for food. They looked down to see the little calf, weary and sick. What happened next blew my mind.

The five mommas got on three sides of the little calf. They lowered their heads, and with their noses, they nudged the little fella up until he stood in their midst. They acted so caring and loving to this little calf. Before long, he was walking around them, looking for a spout from which to drink.

All the cows finally arrived. The last I saw of them, the whole herd walked back to the pond with the little fella walking in their midst.

I checked on the little fella this week. He is alive and well by God’s grace.

If cows can lift up the hurting, why can’t we?

“We who are strong ought to bear with the failings of the weak” (Romans 15:1).

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

As editor of a Baptist news publication, I find myself processing the news more than the average person. The news over the last couple of weeks has been jarring to process, disorienting, even.

A question that came to my mind as I tried: “How are Christians supposed to carry the gospel in a world like this?”

Spoiler: The answer is in the question. When we know the gospel, we know the answer.

Let me explain.

Military actions

After reporting many times over several years on the insecurity of Christians in parts of Nigeria, we received news just before Christmas that remaining students kidnapped in Nigeria were reunited with their families. Good news, indeed, right before Christmas.

Then, on Christmas Day, the U.S. military struck Islamic militants in far northwest Nigeria. Despite U.S. threats in the preceding weeks about conducting such action, the timing was a surprise—if not shocking.

Many in the U.S. either paid little attention to the Christmas strike in Nigeria or quickly forgot about it. The U.S. military action in Venezuela during the early morning of Jan. 3, removing Venezuelan President Nicolás Maduro and his wife Cilia Flores, almost ensures Nigeria is overshadowed.

These are serious events that deserve serious attention. In addition to the geopolitical concerns involved, each event directly affects our Christian brothers and sisters in Nigeria, Venezuela, and beyond, including among Texas Baptists.

Such news is challenging enough to process, but wait. There’s more.

AI ‘love’

Like most people, I need a break from such serious news. So, I decided to listen to a podcast while running errands. I landed on an episode of The Daily by the New York Times released Dec. 31 as a follow up to a previous episode.

The title: “She Fell in Love with ChatGPT: An Update.” It was available without a subscription at the time but may require a subscription now.

The story is about a woman who lived in Texas and then moved to Europe, without her husband, to pursue further education. She became lonely and created a ChatGPT bot named Leo to be her companion. And then she became attached to Leo. Very attached.

She told her husband about her ChatGPT “boyfriend.” Her husband wasn’t concerned. At some point, and I don’t remember the order, they divorced, she dumped Leo, and she ended up in a new relationship with another man, a real human man.

As bizarre and troubling as the story is to me, I was equally troubled by the hosts’ commentary on the present status of the woman’s relationships. The hosts said they were very happy for her, seemingly without irony and maybe without really meaning it.

I listened to this story while also still trying to process back-to-back U.S. military interventions in Nigeria and Venezuela.

How are Christians supposed to carry the gospel in a world like this?

The gospel in a world like this

For Christians to carry the gospel in a world like this, we must know what the gospel is. We also must know who we are. And we must be rooted in that knowing.

We must know what the gospel is: the good news available to all in and through the body, the blood, the teaching, the living, the rising from the dead, the eternal reigning of Jesus Christ. We must know this gospel, ratified in this world, is for this world.

We must stay in prayer, confessing and repenting of our own wrongdoing, and seeking God’s guidance. We must stay in Scripture, committing it to memory, getting it into our bones as a firm foundation, allowing it and God’s Spirit to clothe us in Christ’s character.

We must carve out space for this praying and meditating on Scripture. That space won’t be given to us.

A metaphor: I’ve had my feet pulled out from under me by a strong current on the beach while simultaneously having my head slammed into the sand by a crashing wave. At a minimum, that’s disorienting. This world can hit you like that.

In that kind of world—and we live in that kind of world—Christians must keep their wits about them. Often, that requires staying connected to other Christians whose feet aren’t being pulled out from under them, whose heads aren’t being pounded in the sand.

For Christians to carry the gospel in a world like this, we must find our co-laborers in Christ, and we must work together. We must listen for the Spirit sending us to do our part. And in Christ’s Spirit we must do our part, doing no more or less than what the Spirit sends us to do.

Carrying the gospel

This year is starting with disorienting news. It confronts us locally, nationally, and globally. The gospel, good news in all circumstances everywhere, reorients the disoriented.

To carry the gospel in a world like this, we must do more than pray and meditate. We must do more than gather with other Christians. The gospel is a claim on the whole of our lives. We must carry the gospel wherever we go as living witnesses of it.

Why? Because the gospel is for this world, not just to carry us in this world.

And also because the hard news just keeps coming before we can fully process the last reports.

Many in our country are still reeling from Jan. 6. Its fifth anniversary occurred this week. We need to carry the gospel there.

Yesterday, ICE agents shot and killed Renee Nicole Macklin Good in her vehicle on a Minneapolis, Minn., street. The protests were immediate. The details are being debated. We need to carry the gospel there.

Also yesterday, news broke of Philip Yancey’s disclosure of an eight-year extramarital affair leading to his full retirement. The gospel is needed there, yes, even for one who carried the gospel for so many of us.

Lord, it’s a new year. We want to celebrate, and yet, the news takes us the other direction. Remind us that the gospel lives in us, that you live in us. May we ground ourselves in you amid the deep troubles of these days so to carry the gospel for this world in this 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.

EDITOR’S NOTE: A contrasting viewpoint can be read here.

While cases are still pending for full review before the U.S. Supreme Court, results from the shadow docket and recent court decisions can lead one to assume a continued drift toward authoritarian government and a weakening of the separation of church and state will impact the country for years to come.

The temptation might be to blame the members of the Supreme Court, but the symptoms are more far-reaching than a majority of justices and a handful of decisions. Rather, it is an over-arching partisan political culture that has captivated American politics, leading partisans to seek the vanquishing of their political foes through any means necessary.

While there certainly is a growing illiberalism on the left, today’s particular strain on democracy and muddying of church-state separation stems from the right, mainly from some of the candidates heavily supported by conservative evangelicals.

As Kristin Kobes Du Mez pointed out in her book, Jesus and John Wayne, among Christians in America, denominationalism has given way to the charismatic Christian culture warriors of the day, notably those who can sell the most merchandise and accumulate the most accolades from other conservative Christians.

What results is a Christianity less dedicated to the guardrails of denominations and more so to the top-of-mind bestseller or most listened to podcaster or online influencer known more for their political-speak-mixed-with-religious-terminology than for a deeply rooted theological commitment.

Politicized religious right

The politicalization of the religious right has occurred over many decades, beginning with the Moral Majority in the 1980s, morphing into the Christian Coalition of the 1990s and the Family Research Council of the 2000s.

Today, the religious right has infiltrated the Republican Party so successfully that conservative political identity and white evangelical identity practically are seen as the same thing.

Today, when we perceive threats posed toward the separation of church and state, it is not simply one denomination or faith seeking the dissolution of the wall of separation, but the cultivated political viewpoint of those in power that then influences theological understanding.

This viewpoint has been hammered home by charismatic religious personalities, cable news, online influencers and provocateurs, creating a cultural Christianity more closely tied to politics than faith.

With politics camouflaged in religious terminology, the traditional advocacy for religious freedom for all and separation of church and state has yielded to a politics of power that capitalizes on populist sentiments, which seeks power over piety.

Contrary to history

Evangelicals have not always been this way. At the founding of the country, prominent religious leaders countered the Puritan approach of mixing church and state. Evangelicals, including Baptists, led the charge to champion religious liberty for all.

The Baptist Faith and Message states: “Church and state should be separate. The state owes to every church protection and full freedom in the pursuit of its spiritual ends. In providing for such freedom no ecclesiastical group or denomination should be favored by the state more than others. … The church should not resort to the civil power to carry on its work.”

However, according to a recent Pew Research poll, 56 percent of U.S. evangelicals strongly support compulsory school prayer in which the teacher prays “in Jesus’ name.” This is compared to only 26 percent of Catholics who strongly believe the same thing.

Likewise, 48 percent of U.S. evangelicals strongly favor declaring the United States a Christian nation, compared to 20 percent of Catholics.

The long-held discriminatory anti-Catholicism in the United States promulgated by evangelicals, and notably Baptists, supposedly couched in a fear Catholics would join church and state under the authority of the pope, has been turned on its head. It is evangelical Protestants now, more than Catholics, who desire a combining of church and state under politically conservative, evangelical leadership and control.

Politics, not religion

The continued politicization of the religious right has culminated in the last two Republican presidents appointing Supreme Court justices who appear to be more sympathetic to authoritarianism. This is not a result of theology, but of politics—a politics driven by conservative evangelicals.

As Paul Miller argues in The Religion of American Greatness: “The divine mission of God’s chosen people is not to spread political liberty, national sovereignty, or capitalism; it is to spread the Gospel of Jesus Christ.”

Over the past few decades, however, evangelicals of the religious right have prioritized Christian power, resulting in a strain of illiberalism that hampers both individual freedom and religious liberty in a pluralistic society. This is not the result of ecclesiastical organization, but rather of political priority.

Christian responsibility

Americans of all denominations and religious identities must cut through the erroneous algorithms to present truth boldly concerning the proper relationship between religion, politics and power, while recognizing the inevitable criticism that will come as a result.

After all, this is not purely a denominational issue, but an entire political worldview that has spread through consistent, narrowing messaging for the past 40 years.

Now is not the time to point the blame at a particular denomination or faith, but to find the like-minded individuals who desire to reassert true religious liberty, freedom of conscience, and separation of church and state. And we must do so humbly, confidently and in the spirit of love.

Consider the words of Pope Leo XIV in May 2025: “It is never a question of capturing others by force, by religious propaganda or by means of power. Instead, it is always and only a question of loving as Jesus did.”

Or, as the Baptist Faith and Message exhorts: “Act in the spirit of love without compromising [one’s] loyalty to Christ and His truth.”

To combat the waning commitment to church and state separation, we must seek to find common agreement, regardless of our religious affiliation.

With an ecumenical spirit, we must seek renewed commitment to a proper relationship between church and state, coupled with supporting a healthy political sphere that champions the First Amendment, thus securing the blessings of liberty for our current society and the generations to come.

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

EDITOR’S NOTE: A contrasting viewpoint can be read here.

Many of my Baptist friends have asked me how it has developed that Catholics make up a strong majority on the U.S. Supreme Court.

My explanation: First, in recent decades, there was an individual who rose to the forefront of the religious legal battles with the objective of changing the composition of the U.S. Supreme Court. His name was Leonard Leo, a prominent Catholic lawyer and political activist.

Leo was a leader in groups named the Heritage Foundation and the Federalist Society. He campaigned to get several Catholics on the U.S. Supreme Court: Clarence Thomas, John Roberts, Samuel Alito, Neil Gorsuch, Brett Kavanaugh and Amy Coney Barrett.

Second, there was the role of Donald Trump. Leo and many social conservatives supported him for U.S. president. Leo was able to convince the president to turn to the Federalist Society for advice about judicial nominations.

Trump, a transactional decision-maker operated on the premise, “You help me do what I want, and I will help you do what you want.”

Many people agreed to support Trump, since he said he would oppose abortions and the so-called “homosexual agenda.”

Implications

There are many significant implications for a U.S. Supreme Court that favors Catholics.

First, there is the issue of the separation of church and state and private school funding. The U.S. Constitution states there shall be no establishment of religion, and there shall exist the free exercise of religion.

Under the Supreme Court of recent decades, there has been a breach of the wall of separation. The Supreme Court has upheld a variety of uses of public funds to support private schools, including private religious schools.

Second, there is the issue of presidential power. In the 2024 case Trump v. United States, the Supreme Court held a sitting president cannot be prosecuted for any action done as “official” presidential business.

Catholic vs. congregational

Numerous individuals have asked me how the composition of the Court, with a strong majority of Catholics, could have shifted so much power to the presidency and away from the other two branches of government. Following is my personal view.

The basic structure of many non-Catholic churches is what commonly is called “congregational,” where stress is placed upon the autonomy of each local congregation.

Each church uses some form of democratic voting in the selection of pastors. Each uses individuals who assist in the administration and practices of the congregation.

Most Southern Baptist churches maintain membership in a large association of churches known as the Southern Baptist Convention. The organization is the largest Protestant religious group in the United States.

The SBC helps the larger fellowship develop and use religious and educational materials based upon commonly held beliefs and practices. It also assists local churches in mission outreach and service.

The Catholic structure contrasts with the congregational structure. A priest for a local congregation is chosen primarily through the actions of a local or area bishop. The process is not diffused. It is hierarchical in structure. It is a pyramid of power. In the Catholic Church, there is the local priest, the area bishop, an archbishop, a cardinal and the pope in Vatican City.

The local pastor is not selected by popular vote of the congregation. The pastor usually is selected by a bishop and ultimately approved by the pope.

Church authority demands conformity. At all levels, the leaders are required to wear attire that symbolically represents certain religious elements. In any setting, enforced clothing conformity is an outward sign of institutionalized authoritarianism. That contrasts with many non-Catholic churches, which do not require specific clothing for worship leaders.

There also is a great deal of conformity in prayers led by religious leaders in the Catholic Church.

Shift in viewpoint

For most of American history, most members of the Supreme Court did not come from religious hierarchical structures of decision-making. Most did not view the U.S. president as possessing all power, and especially not the right to do anything and then justify it as “official business.”

They did not believe in a “unitary” theory of leadership based upon a pyramid of power. They believed in a system of checks and balances and a working relationship between three branches of government.

The majority of those who wrote the Trump v. United States decision grew up with a mindset that reflected a belief in hierarchical exercises of power. They leaned in the direction of authoritarianism in religion, which I believe flowed into their decision in the Trump case.

The Catholic justices belong to a very formal religious institution headquartered in a small religio-political state led by a single powerful leader—the pope. The pope exercises executive, legislative and judicial power. There is no separation of powers in the Catholic Church.

The current Court

The current majority of six Catholics on the U.S. Supreme Court admit they took an oath to defend the U.S. Constitution. They have decided some major cases that have shifted a great deal of power away from the U.S. Congress to the U.S. president and shifted some power from the judicial branch to the presidency.

They know their national loyalty is to the United States, not to the pope in Vatican City. However, their mindset is more accepting of extremely strong leadership in the American presidency than previous Supreme Courts.

We never should forget the mindset factor in the selection of judges, executives, legislators and even marriage partners. Catholic lobbying has given us a pro-authoritarian body.

Other religious groups also could have organized to shape the composition of the U.S. Supreme Court. It is called “politics” and “lobbying.” Leonard Leo, an ardent Catholic, is a master of the process.

The people of the United States have a future ahead of them that will be shaped by a man most Americans never heard of. As the English playwright William Shakespeare wrote in The Tempest, “What’s past is prologue.”

Leon Blevins is a retired professor of government and former Baptist pastor. The views expressed in this opinion article are those of the author.

We don’t really want a perfect Christmas. We think we do. We think we want everything just so—all the decorations, the music, the weather, the travel, the food, the presents, the time with family and friends. But we don’t. Not if we stop and think about it.

Decorating for Christmas this year made me stop and think about it.

Imperfect lighting

I thought we were doing good. I thought we were ahead of the game. We got all of our Christmas decorations out and up on Black Friday. All of it.

And then, half a string of lights is out in the front yard, which I only saw after dark. Then, a string of soft white lights on our pre-lit Christmas tree went brilliant white and then out.

These should be simple fixes, but I know it will become like giving a mouse a cookie, and I don’t have the time or energy for that. After all, I need the time it would take to remove the strings of lights and replace them with new ones to write this editorial about the problems I’m having with Christmas lights.

Do you see the problem? Of course, you do. We often see other people’s problems better than we see our own.

The problem isn’t the lights. I mean, they are a problem, but of such minor significance. Prioritization is the greater problem.

*******

I wrote the preceding paragraphs a couple of weeks ago, thinking I would get a head start on a Christmas editorial. Two weeks later, I can report: I tried fixing the outside lights … without success. I didn’t bother with the lights on the tree.

I thought the lights being out was a problem, though one from which I could make an editorial. Now, I see they’re not a problem at all. Not after they got me thinking more deeply about Christmas.

Imperfect Christmas

Allowing the lights in our front yard and on our Christmas tree to be less than perfect enabled me to consider the fact so little was perfect about Jesus’ birth. From our perspective, anyway.

I mean, Mary wasn’t married, but she was going to be. Yet, she was pregnant … with someone else’s baby. Joseph was going to do what only made sense to him—call off the wedding. But he was going to do it quietly. He wasn’t going to make a stink of it.

Late in pregnancy, Mary had to travel under less-than-ideal conditions—compulsion by a foreign power and days on a dusty road, all while ready to deliver at seemingly any moment.

Joseph and Mary got where they were going only to find no room available. Whatever the actual accommodations were, they weren’t what guests were supposed to be given.

Jesus was born there and put in a manger. Not exactly a Sealy, Beautyrest or Tempur-Pedic.

I could list the other less-than-perfect details of the story, but by now you probably get the point without me needing to. The first Christmas—Jesus’ birth and the circumstances surrounding it—was not perfect. And that’s part of Christmas’ significance.

The significance of Christmas is Jesus was born into a less-than-perfect world under less-than-perfect circumstances to save less-than-perfect people—including you and me. An airbrushed, Photoshopped Christmas won’t do for that. Why? Because a perfect world is make-believe. At least, for now.

We think we want a perfect Christmas, but we really don’t. The imperfect one we have is the one that connects with all the imperfect places in our lives, as is true of the rest of Jesus’ life.

Perfect Savior

Jesus’ birth wasn’t the only less-than-perfect part of his life. Herod tried to kill him when he was a toddler. His family had to flee to Egypt to avoid that. When they moved back, they settled in Nazareth of all places. Nothing good came from Nazareth, so they said. Sometime later, Joseph disappeared.

As an adult, the devil harassed Jesus in the wilderness. His mom outed him to a wedding party. He didn’t have anywhere to call home. People seemed to want him only for his miracles. His closest friends didn’t understand him. The authorities stayed after him.

And the end? The end was a full-on dumpster fire. What part of being betrayed, arrested, beaten, mocked, “tried” by a kangaroo court, beaten and mocked some more, stripped and crucified in front of God and everybody amounts to our idea of a perfect day?

The only thing perfect about any of it is Jesus did all of it perfectly—from beginning to end.

*******

I’d like all the lights to be shining in my front yard and on our Christmas tree. But these literally and figuratively are tiny problems.

Much more, I’d like all that is wrong in this world—and there are monstrous wrongs in this world—to be made right already. No amount of airbrushing and Photoshopping will make that happen, though. The sooner we let go of that lie, the better.

What will make that happen is the Savior born to us who will return to us to make all things perfect.

Let us not ignore or pretend away the imperfections. Instead, let us allow them to point our attention to Jesus. That is the Christmas we want. That is the Christmas we need.

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.

The word “trek” means a long, arduous journey. Our lives are a journey. Mine is. Yours is.

At Christmas, we ought to focus a little on the journey. There should be a time of thanksgiving for sure.

Memories likely flood our minds during this miraculous, sacred, holy season.

I have memories of a tin-foil Christmas tree beautifully decorated with a light wand changing its color from red to blue to green to yellow, easily seen through the picture window of a living room on a hilltop in Rainbow.

I also have memories of my little brother and me waking up in the early morning hours to see our presents strategically placed beneath said tree.

A parent’s trek

Our parents’ trek: We had no idea the sacrifices our parents made to buy those gifts, the sleep they lost placing them under the tree, the fretful days to keep a roof over our heads, clothes on our backs, food on our table, without ever whimpering a word of it to two little boys.

My trek now: This Christmas, me and Lori come before the Lord for another reason on top of the infinite reasons before. This Christmas, we became grandparents for the first time.

We even got to choose our grandparent names. She’s Grammy. I am Pop. Will the grandchild hold to our choices? Time will tell.

Today, he is wrapped beautifully in swaddling cloth and held in a baby bed bought for him months ago. What will he be when he grows up? What will life be like when he gets older? We trust in the Lord, who knows all things before they occur.

His mother’s trek: Kate spent nine months in the waiting stages to give birth. She had no idea what the little boy would look like—our grandson, her and Matt’s son. Would he have dark hair or blond? Would he have blue eyes or green? Would he be healthy or have some struggle?

She felt him move inside. At times, he was still. We wondered if he was OK.

Kate’s body changed over these months. Things were harder for her. Mobility was not easy. Her husband put her shoes and socks on for her. Her ankles swelled. She would get out of breath. Hormones went awry at times.

Then, the pain of childbirth. In the throes of all that, a woman might wonder if this is worth it? Some might promise never to do this again, never to take this arduous journey.

But then, a son is born, a child is given. There is peace. The pain ebbs. The first stage of the trek is over. A new one begins.

A personal trek

This year, as over the last many years in a row, I made the trek to Santa’s Wonderland near College Station. This was my first to make by myself.

At first, it was Lori, little Brittany, littler Kate and me. Then, the girls became adults, and it was Lori and me only. This year, I went by myself. Lori was at Kate’s bedside waiting for the baby to be born.

We don’t go for the Santa part. We go to see the lights. We go to eat the food. We make the trip and spend the money to step into the joy of the season.

But more, we go for the pinnacle of Santa’s Wonderland. At the end of the hayride through the lights, we come to the manger with Joseph, Mary, wise men, an angel and the baby boy.

This year, I walked to the manger positioned there with the life-like characters. I gazed upon the scene. Every character looked with wonder at the baby in the manger.

Mary looked amazed. She had a baby without ever knowing a man physically. Joseph looked in awe to be part of heaven’s intent to love, protect and raise the Father’s Son as his own. The wise men stared at the newborn King.

But the angel really caught my eye this year. The angel looked down into the manger at the baby. Only the angel had a clue of who the child really was. He was and is Jesus, the King of all heaven, who created that angel, who fellowshipped with that angel in glory along with the host of all the other angels.

His trek

I saw the marvel in the eyes of this angel. The angel alone knew the trek this baby took. Jesus—fully God’s Son, fully God and fully man—traveled through time, space and matter to take on flesh, to be an infant.

The angel had an idea but did not realize in full the arduous journey God’s Son would make through that flesh and bone to grow, touch, teach and to have his hands nailed to wood, back whipped by iron and leather, spear piercing the tiny side one day fully mature, thorns to pierce that sweet little head.

The end of the trek would be filled with pain unimaginable. The baby adored in the manger soon would be hated and scorned.

The angel may have wondered, “Is this pain worth it?”

Yet, here you and I are wrapped in the swaddling cloth of his love. His trek of poverty, isolation, adoration and hatred, joy and immense pain was worth it. Those who receive him are born again.

God looks at the children Jesus’ pain brought. I can imagine the Father saying, and Jesus agreeing: “The trek was worth it, indeed. It is good, very good.”

Would he do it again? In a heartbeat.

Johnny Teague is the senior pastor of Church at the Cross in West Houston and the author of several books, including his newest The Lost Diary of Mary Magdalene. His website is johnnyteague.com. The views expressed in this opinion article are those of the author.

The last element in Karen Bullock’s description of Baptist identity is one that might be a surprise to some.

It is not a theological conviction. Rather, it is a conviction about how the Christian life ought to be lived and about how the Christian witness ought to be presented to the world.

Defining the distinctive

It should not surprise us that Bullock presents evangelism as a core element of Baptist identity. After all, the conversion of the individual is a hallmark of Baptist soteriology and undergirds much of Baptist ecclesiology.

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soteriology: the what and how of salvation
ecclesiology: the what and how of the church

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From a Baptist point of view, God’s kingdom only grows when the gospel is preached and people repent of their sins, putting their faith in Jesus Christ.

But as Bullock points out, Baptist theology—when properly practiced—is not radically individualistic. Rather, it draws individuals into a family of believers, one for whom and to whom the new convert is now responsible.

Moreover, conversion lays upon the new believer the joy and the burden of caring for her or his neighbors.

Hence, the GC2 initiative among Texas Baptists is not a catchy marketing campaign created by a highly paid advertising agency. It is an expression of our identity as members of the Baptist family. It is the way we cultivate faithfulness, not only to Jesus our Lord, but also to our Baptist forebears and our Baptist brothers and sisters around the world.

Building trans-denominational consensus

Of course, Baptists are not the only ones who have noticed the importance of the Great Commission (Matthew 28:16-20) and the greatest commandments (Matthew 22:37-40 and parallels; Romans 13:8-10; Galatians 5:13-15).

That is a good thing. For it provides Baptists with the common mission and value structure necessary for interdenominational dialogue and cooperation.

Those familiar with conversations about evangelical identity may notice the coherence of concerns between historic Baptist belief and the ways in which evangelicals have sought to distinguish themselves from both liberals and fundamentalists.

We are an activist people, engaged in the issues of our day, so as to bring the love of God and the light of the gospel into the public square. We also are convinced of the need for individual conversion and of the reliability of the church’s historic teachings about God, Christ, atonement, the Scriptures and the like.

Moreover, we do not shrink back from biblical concepts like justice. We use our words and our deeds to embody such concepts in both private and public life. We do so because justice, compassion, holiness and the like are indispensable aspects of our own life of discipleship.

We also pursue these biblical virtues, because they bear witness to the kind of God we serve and to his vision for the world he created.

Expanding our vision

There is one aspect of the traditional Baptist emphasis on evangelism, missions and public ethics I would like us to reimagine.

Evangelism—presenting the gospel clearly to others and inviting them to faith in Christ—is a biblical concept and is one of the first activities Jesus’ disciples did after his ascension (Acts 2:14-41; 3:11-26). But our mission, as given to the church by its Lord, is not to “make converts.” It is to “make disciples.”

The distinction is subtle but important. Yes, we want people to put their faith in Jesus, but we do not want that faith to be superficial. We want it to be robust enough to sustain them through the long journey that is the Christian life.

We want that faith to be curious and hungry, always straining for more insight and for more ways to obey Christ. And we want that faith to be genuine. We want people to trust Jesus enough to die for him, not demand eternal life on their own terms.

That is why our efforts at evangelism always must stand in the shadow of, and be a piece with, our loving and rugged care for our neighbor. Indeed, even our love for our enemies is vital to our efforts to proclaim the gospel faithfully and invite others to saving faith.

We are not simply inviting people to remain the same old sinners they currently are. We are inviting them to undergo the same transformation of their priorities, values, desires and goals we have.

We are claiming Jesus wasn’t crazy when he told people they have to lose their very self in order to find it or that love is the proper response to life’s many provocations. We are telling them Jesus was right. And they won’t believe it unless they see it lived out in our individual lives, in the budgets of our churches and in the priorities of our institutions.

Closing thoughts

As I close this series, I am reminded how difficult it is to create organizations and traditions. It is certainly true Baptists have made mistakes along the way, and there is much of which we can and should repent. But our forebears sought to create a way of doing church that was more biblical and more faithful, and they sought to do so in the midst of troubled times.

For my part, I am grateful for their efforts, and I would encourage us to consider what we will lose if we throw away the heritage we have been given.

There is much talk today, both on the far left and the far right, about the failings of the “free church in a free state” experiment, but I think its triumphs far outweigh the troubles it has brought.

We don’t have to choose between appreciation for our tradition and awareness of the need for reform. We can do both. Indeed, it would be irresponsible not to do both.

Baptists still have so much to give to the global church, and we have much to learn from it, too. I pray we will pursue both of these noble ends with a heart of generosity and enthusiasm.

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.

The news of recent days gives yet more evidence that too many in our world have given up the low bar of common decency in favor of sheer disregard for one another.

The irony is the horrible events of the last few days occurred during a season we associate with … increased acts of common decency.

These horrific acts began long before they happened. They each began as a thought, with disregard for the life of another. They serve as evidence of a world in need of the redemption to which Christmas points.

As we become further inured to indecency through regular violent actions—often spurred on or followed by violent rhetoric—we become less able to reach the higher bar signaled by Christmas.

Amid the indecency of our day, Christmas points us beyond acts of kindness to laying down the whole of our lives as Jesus did for us. May we be so bold.

Horrific news

The following events depict what can happen when we do not lay down our lives for others but, contrary to Christ, assert our superiority over others. The result is horrific.

The killing of two students and injuring of nine in a Brown University classroom Dec. 13 shows the depth of disregard for life. Despite Rhode Island Gov. Dan McKee’s asserting “the unthinkable has happened,” such occurrences are all too thinkable, even in a place called Providence.

The slaughter of 15 people celebrating Hanukkah, Dec. 14, at Bondi Beach, Sydney, Australia, shows the persistent disregard for particular lives—Jewish lives. Fifteen lights were extinguished during this Festival of Lights.

That same day, Dec. 14, we received news Rob and Michele Singer Reiner were found dead in their home. Rob and his father Carl being giants of American entertainment, this news hit many particularly hard. Harder still is that the Reiners’ son Nick has been charged with their murder.

As we were coming to grips with these three horrific events occurring in short order, a further indecency was launched into the news: Donald Trump’s Truth Social post blaming Rob Reiner for his own death. I won’t link to the despicable post or Trump’s shrugging it off the next day.

Decency—common or otherwise—seems in short supply these days. If we could reach even that bar, we would do well. Yet, Christmas points us further. Christmas points us to laying down the whole of our lives for those with whom we differ, disagree or worse.

As much as I’d prefer to write a warm, fuzzy Christmas editorial, I cannot turn away so easily from our troubled times and what Christmas points to amid them.

Where Christmas points

Christmas is our celebration of God the Son being born as a human baby in fulfilment of centuries of prophecy and longing. Jesus didn’t have to go through with it. Jesus didn’t have to be born into this world, much less at the time of his birth. Neither Rome nor Herod were known for their decency, and the Jewish people had their own challenges.

And yet.

Jesus looked at this world and may have said: “Those are some messed up people. I’m going to go live with them.”

Jesus didn’t just live with us; he committed to the bit. He started as an embryo, then grew inside his mother, was born, went through childhood and puberty, became an adult, and experienced ridicule, misunderstanding, brutality and death—not vicariously, but firsthand. He took our indecency. All of it.

While he was facing ridicule and misunderstanding, he told us to love those who revile us, to bless those who persecute us, to lay down our lives even for those who hate us. Jesus commanded us not to meet indecency with indecency, but to lay down our lives in the face of it.

Anyone who says we should do any different is a false witness.

Jesus’ choice to live among us, despite knowing how messed up we are—because he knows how messed up we are—is our call to surpass the low bar of common decency associated with Christmas, a bar too many of us find too hard to meet, and to lay down our lives even for those who disregard us to the point of brutalizing us, who just as soon would see us dead.

A bracing truth

How’s that for a “Merry Christmas?” But isn’t that the truth within the warm fuzzies of the season?

I’d rather write a feel-good editorial, but I can’t make us feel good about the times we’re in. So, instead, I’m calling us to protest the way of this world by following how Jesus lived and told us to live in it. And that is to lay down the whole of our lives like Jesus did so others may be redeemed.

We live in a troubled world during troubled times. If I was old enough, I might say it feels like 2,000 years ago. In a general sense. The details are different.

If I was old enough, I definitely would look like I carried the immense weight of two millennia of disappointment and disillusionment about the state of the world. Trouble, terror and turmoil are a recurring theme in our history books.

If I was a Christian all that time, I probably would be overcome by our collective and consistent inability as Christians to live up to what Jesus called us to do.

But one thing I could not and cannot deny: Jesus knew all about the state of this troubled world and chose to live in it with us anyway.

Think about that as you read the news today—the heart-breaking, stomach-churning news of today so often devoid of even common decency.

While you mull that over, keep in mind it gets better than Jesus choosing to live with us. Christmas is part and parcel of Good Friday, which is part and parcel of Easter, which is part and parcel of where all of this is going—the redemption and restoration of all things.

Christmas is just the beginning, pointing us far beyond. May we be so bold.

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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.

Every morning in Brazil, before the first light breaks, millions of phones buzz across time zones and cities. People roll out of bed, open YouTube, and join a single rhythm—the rosary at 4 a.m.

Led by Frei Gilson, a Carmelite friar whose voice has become familiar in countless homes, this livestreamed prayer has become a phenomenon.

In a nation once defined by Catholic ritual and later transformed by evangelical zeal, something new is stirring—a quiet awakening at the crossroads of faith, technology and culture.

Evangelicals among Catholics

I have watched this story unfold with both curiosity and hope. Brazil always has been a testing ground for missionary imagination—a laboratory of faith. In many ways, I am a by-product of that story.

My own faith and the origins of my family was shaped by the American Southern Baptist missionary movement that took root in Brazil more than a century ago. For many Baptists, Brazil was the first great foreign mission field—a land to be “reached” for Christ.

I grew up surrounded by the hymns, mission fairs and youth camps planted by Southern Baptist missionaries who traded the suburbs of Dallas and Atlanta for the tropical humidity of Recife and the colorful coral reefs of João Pessoa. Their influence was immense.

Yet beneath the mission statistics and baptism counts, there always was tension. For centuries, Catholicism enjoyed a near monopoly on Brazilian spirituality. To be Brazilian was to be Catholic by default.

When evangelical churches began multiplying in the 20th century, the word crente—“believer”—became a slur. Catholics used it to mock the noisy newcomers who sang with guitars and preached with passion.

As a young boy, I remember the sting of that word. It carried both disdain and fear, as if faith outside the old institution were a contagion. That divide—Catholic versus evangelical, traditional versus modern—shaped Brazil’s religious identity for generations.

A change happening

And yet something unexpected is happening now. The same Catholic Church that once viewed evangelical fervor with suspicion is rediscovering its own.

Frei Gilson’s 4 a.m. rosary is only one sign. His livestreams draw millions—including evangelicals who tune in quietly, searching for peace. It’s a kind of digital pilgrimage: part prayer meeting, part revival, part collective exhale in a nation weary from polarization.

In recent decades, Catholicism in Brazil has faced steep decline. Census data show Catholics have dropped from more than 90 percent of the population in 1980 to just over half today. Evangelical churches—especially Pentecostal and neo-Pentecostal movements—have surged, filling gaps left by institutional fatigue and economic despair.

Yet even evangelical growth is slowing. The irony is just as both traditions feel their limits, they are learning from one another. Catholics are embracing small-group community and emotional worship. Evangelicals are rediscovering liturgy, contemplation and social teaching.

In many ways, the pandemic accelerated this convergence. With sanctuaries closed, both Catholics and evangelicals went online. Prayer chains, Bible studies and worship nights migrated to YouTube and WhatsApp.

Out of the isolation emerged something organic and deeply human: people longing to belong, to pray, to find God together.

Frei Gilson’s dawn prayers captured that hunger. He is not a celebrity pastor with a production team. He’s a friar in a simple brown habit, praying ancient words in real time. Yet through the digital commons, he has reached more hearts than any cathedral could hold.

Shift in influence

As someone who grew up watching American missionaries teach Brazilians how to “do church,” I find this reversal fascinating. The flow of influence is shifting.

The global south no longer is merely the mission field. It’s becoming the mission force.

Brazilian Christians now are among the most active missionaries in the world, from the favelas of Rio to refugee camps in the Middle East. They carry a passionate, improvisational and communal spirituality.

Where Western churches often analyze strategy, Brazilians embody surrender. The 4 a.m. prayer movement may seem strange to Western observers, but it reveals a deeper truth: Renewal may not come from conferences or budgets, but from tired people praying in the dark before they go to work.

Of course, renewal in Brazil comes with complexity. Religion and politics never are far apart. The rise of the MAGA movement in the United States found echoes in Brazil’s own populist wave under Jair Bolsonaro, who drew strong support from evangelicals.

The fusion of nationalism and Christianity—what many call “Christian nationalism”—has scarred both nations. It tempts believers to confuse cultural dominance with divine mission. I have seen how this fusion divides families and congregations, turning faith into ideology.

Some of Frei Gilson’s critics fear his movement could be co-opted by similar forces. Perhaps that fear is justified. But beneath the noise of culture wars, ordinary Brazilians are rediscovering prayer. That may prove more transformative than politics ever could.

Post-Western, Revelation Christianity

The more I observe, the more convinced I am Brazil is showing the world what post-Western Christianity might look like. It is less tidy, less institutional and far more embodied. It is a church without monopoly—both wounded and vibrant, ancient and experimental.

It is Catholic women livestreaming the rosary from their kitchens, Pentecostal teenagers preaching on TikTok, Baptist pastors partnering with Catholic charities to feed the hungry. It is not the death of denominational identity, but its transformation into a wider imagination of the kingdom.

This is what gives me hope. The global church is becoming more like the one Jesus promised—polyphonic, multiethnic, global in accent and local in compassion. The old Western monopoly on theology and mission is breaking down, and that is good news.

When I see Catholics and evangelicals kneeling together in prayer—even through a screen—I glimpse a small reflection of Revelation 7: “a great multitude … from every nation, tribe, people and language.”

I think back to my grandparents’ generation—humble Brazilian believers who embraced the gospel through the witness of American missionaries. They never could have imagined their grandchildren watching a friar on YouTube pray the rosary at dawn, or evangelical pastors quoting Pope Francis in their sermons, or the world looking to Brazil for spiritual innovation. But God’s story always bends toward surprise.

Perhaps that is the quiet miracle of the 4 a.m. prayer. In a nation once divided by faith and class and creed, there now is a chorus rising before dawn—a sound of people seeking God together. It may not fit anyone’s missionary playbook, but it feels like the kingdom breaking in—slow, ordinary, luminous.

Diego Silva is the director of economic strengthening at Buckner International. A native of Brazil, he lives in Georgetown with his wife and two boys. He writes about faith, community development and global mission. The views expressed in this opinion article are those of the author.

The fifth “wall” in the Baptist “house” Karen Bullock describes in her Pinson Lecture is local church autonomy, paired as it is with congregational governance.

These are not difficult doctrines to describe. Baptists believe each local church is an autonomous entity, free from the control of governments or ecclesiastical hierarchies. Each congregation is governed by the will of its members, in whom the Holy Spirit is active to reveal the will of Christ and empower the local church to carry out that will.

It also is relatively easy to explain the benefits of this way of understanding the church. Each church member is granted the responsibility of participating in the governance of the local church, and healthy engagement in that governance demonstrates he or she is maturing as a disciple of Jesus.

Likewise, local congregations are free to shape their ministry in response to the needs and opportunities presented to them by their context.

Nevertheless, the problems created by these corresponding convictions are so myriad and so consequential they cannot be described fully here. All we can do is make a couple of preliminary observations and then touch briefly on the challenges presented by Baptist polity.

Preliminary observations

So, what does the Bible have to say about church polity? Unfortunately, the answer to this question is not as clear as we might like.

The New Testament assumes churches are independent of governmental control, but that is not surprising given the first Christians did not have the option of living in a “Christian” country.

As to the issue of how churches were run, it rightly has been observed that you can find evidence in the New Testament for any of the three broad streams of polity that have dominated church history—episcopal, presbyterian and congregational.

For example, 1 Corinthians presents the church in Corinth as a unified, decision-making body, one Paul had to persuade. In Acts 14, however, we see Paul and Barnabas relying upon their apostolic authority to appoint “elders” in each of the congregations they founded.

So, does one polity seem to work better than the others? That is a matter of opinion, but I would argue every polity has its weaknesses.

We have seen many of those weaknesses played out in the various sexual abuse scandals that have rocked the Roman Catholic Church, the Southern Baptist Convention, and many other denominations and parachurch organizations.

In episcopal systems, wrongdoing can be covered up by bishops, and elders or board members can do the same thing in presbyterian or semi-presbyterian contexts. In congregational denominations, the decentralized nature of authority can blunt attempts at accountability and change even when wrongdoing is brought to light.

Autonomy and cooperation

With these preliminary observations in mind, let us turn our attention to the challenges associated with local church autonomy and congregational governance.

The first challenge has to do with how autonomous entities can cooperate with one another for the sake of a shared mission.

Southern Baptists long have cooperated with one another to fund various entities that serve the church—such as educational institutions and mission boards. For several decades, they did so recognizing different churches had different theological orientations and different value structures.

In recent decades, however, there has been less tolerance for this kind of diversity of thought.

Whatever one thinks of the various conflicts that afflicted Southern Baptists over the past 50 years, it cannot be questioned, these conflicts are about the extent to which any given Southern Baptist church has the right to have its particular values reflected in the denomination’s institutions.

At the risk of stirring up a hornet’s nest, let me put the problem in practical terms, using an issue that has been in the news over the last year or more.

On the one hand, it can be argued the North American Mission Board has every right to direct its money into church plants that reflect the dominant doctrinal convictions of the Southern Baptist Convention, since doing so reflects the will of the vast majority of messengers expressed during a number of annual meetings.

On the other hand, it can be argued doing so restricts the freedom of Baptist churches who do not agree with that consensus to see their own values and convictions reflected in the kinds of churches Southern Baptists plant.

Similar arguments could be marshaled concerning the beliefs of seminary professors, the commitments of candidates for missionary appointments, and especially for those allowed access to state convention resources for helping prospective pastors find a church.

My point in raising these issues is not to say who is right and who is wrong, and it certainly is not to hurt anyone’s feelings. Rather, my point is to ensure we understand issues like these are not a bug in the Baptist system. They are a feature of that system, one that must be acknowledged and addressed honestly whenever conflicts arise.

When something goes wrong

The second challenge related to Baptist polity already has been mentioned. When something goes wrong, as in the case of the reckoning that took place after the Houston Chronicle and other news outlets reported on the prevalence of sexual abuse in Southern Baptist churches, there is no easy way to bring about reforms.

At first glance, it would seem such should not be the case. If the SBC can discipline churches for having a female pastor, then they ought to be able to discipline churches for other transgressions of denominational doctrine or best practices.

But the truth is most problems in ecclesiastical spaces are not as easy to identify as simply looking for job titles on a church’s website.

Without an authoritative hierarchy of church officials that have been entrusted with the task of investigating problems and developing solutions, it is up to individual believers, congregations and smaller denominational units to bear the burden of bringing about reform.

And make no mistake about it. Reform is needed, and it will be needed again in the future.

Baptists will not be able to hide behind their polity when they stand before Christ. So, we had better figure out how we can preserve our commitment to what we really think is a biblical understanding of the church’s governance, while also creating mechanisms to bring about change.

New ways forward?

Perhaps this is one aspect of Baptist identity where we might do some experimenting.

The Evangelical Baptist Church of Georgia—the country, not the American state—describes itself as an “episcopal Baptist church.” As of 2013, it was led by an archbishop and three bishops, one of whom was a woman.

More recently, and closer to home, some Baptist churches have traded their business meetings and committees for boards of elders.

Only time will tell whether experiments like these produce better results than the polity that characterizes most Baptist churches and denominations today. Either way, Baptists have a lot to think about. I can only hope they will do so with a sobriety and generosity of spirit not common in our polarized, overly politicized and toxic world.

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.