Yes, racial reconciliation should start in churches, and it is in churches where gender reconciliation also should start. Brothers and sisters, black and white, reconciled and strengthened in the family of God.

We have an example in the story of Jacob and Esau.

Jacob, through deception and opportunity, stole the birthright of his twin brother, Esau. Esau was guilty of dismissing the importance of his birthright.

My analogy has Jacob representing Christian men who pushed women aside even though men and women were both firstborn in the new Creation and set to inherit the goods and possessions of the Father. Esau represents Christian women who now realize they gave up their most valuable inheritance.

Esau, who had allowed his birthright to be stolen, gathered his army of 400 men and went to meet his brother with his own set of gifts and forgiveness. Women, all of whom have had their newbirth-right stolen, can do the same.

Like Esau, we have no malice, and we are willing to meet our brothers halfway. We, too, have gifts to bring. With your family and my family together again, we will be able to do many things for the Lord.

I urge pastors to start the journey toward gender reconciliation for the children of the new creation.

Shirley Taylor

Willis

A new donut shop opened about a year ago where I live in Castroville. Donuts are my “kryptonite,” my weakness, so I confess I visit there often. 

A beautiful Cambodian family runs this shop. Over time, I have befriended this family by encouraging others to try their donuts—asking them to join me in my guilt. It is a simple little business—not a millennial coffee hangout, just a donut shop. The proprietors do a great job, and their donuts are very good. 

Their donuts have a flavor and a variety you usually don’t see in other donut places. On many occasions, while seated and enjoying my mornings, I witnessed the difficulty of communication between owner and customer. This family’s English is broken with a strong accent. Even though initial orders are perhaps unclear to the owner, in the end, it works out, and the customers walk away happily with their orders and a sale for the family. By the way, the family begins baking at 3 a.m., and the shop closes at 3 p.m. every day, seven days a week. They are so hard working and committed to their business. 

The donuts are all flavors and colors, a reflection of the different types of people who visit the shop, people of all flavors and colors. The best thing is that people seem to look past the cultural difference and accent, and they effectively communicate and serve each other. They are pleased with each other; they accept each other. The different flavored donuts not only bring pleasure to the taste, but also bring different flavored people together. 

In Acts, the Apostle Peter was called to go to Cornelius’ house. As he entered the house, Peter found a large gathering of people. He said to them: “You are well aware that it is against our law for a Jew to associate with or visit a Gentile. But God has shown me that I should not call anyone impure or unclean.”

God gives us opportunities every day to love people around us–our neighbors, someone at work, maybe someone in a donut shop. They may be refugees, immigrants, poor, rich, young or old. They may speak a different language, be from a different culture, or may even be someone with whom we would not consider associating.

After Cornelius told Peter about his prayer, listen to Peter’s response: “I now realize how true it is that God does not show favoritism but accepts from every nation the one who fears him and does what is right.” God has called us to go and preach the gospel. Look around you. There are people everywhere who need to know Christ, people of all colors and flavors, people from different countries or neighborhoods, people who speak different languages, and people who have grown up differently from us.

I am grateful God placed me around this family. I have been praying for them. Maybe they have been praying for me to come to their shop? The extra blessing for me is that they happen to run a donut shop. By the way, they also serve kolaches and breakfast tacos. 

Taste and see that the Lord is good!

René Maciel is president of the Baptist General Convention of Texas and community life pastor at First Baptist Church of Woodway in Waco.

I like to think of myself as a “sensitive” male. That doesn’t mean I always live up to my own billing, I’m sure. But it’s what I want to think about myself.

Mark WingfieldAfter all, I’ve never groped a woman, never catcalled a woman, never made unwanted sexual advances on a woman, don’t make a habit of commenting on the physical attributes of women—and I generally try to be nice to most everyone I meet. At least I think I do.

And I like to think that I’m sensitive enough to treat women and men equally, to not act out of any gender bias. I can give you a long list of ways I think that’s so.

But these days, that’s not enough. …

Read the full column at Baptist News Global.

Mark Wingfield is associate pastor of Wilshire Baptist Church in Dallas and a former managing editor of the Baptist Standard.

To some who were confident of their own righteousness and looked down on everyone else, Jesus told this parable: “Two men went up to the temple to pray, one a Pharisee and the other a tax collector. The Pharisee stood by himself and prayed: ‘God, I thank you that I am not like other people—robbers, evildoers, adulterers—or even like this tax collector. I fast twice a week and give a tenth of all I get.’

Eric Black“But the tax collector stood at a distance. He would not even look up to heaven, but beat his breast and said, ‘God, have mercy on me, a sinner.’

“I tell you that this man, rather than the other, went home justified before God. For all those who exalt themselves will be humbled, and those who humble themselves will be exalted.”

People were also bringing babies to Jesus for him to place his hands on them. When the disciples saw this, they rebuked them. But Jesus called the children to him and said, “Let the little children come to me, and do not hinder them, for the kingdom of God belongs to such as these. Truly I tell you, anyone who will not receive the kingdom of God like a little child will never enter it.” (Luke 18:9-17)

One story, two parts

Normally, we study these two stories separately, but what happens if we consider them together as two parts of the same story? What do we learn from them then?

The first story is included in a group of parables, and the second story is tied to it by the word “also.” See that insignificant little word “also”? Watch out for little words. They have much more power than their size and common usage suggest.

At the same time Jesus was telling these parables recorded by Luke, “people were also bringing babies to Jesus for him” to bless. Jesus was an opportunist. He used every opportunity he could to teach the deeper truths of life to the people who followed him.

Just imagine …

So, imagine for a moment a crush of people all trying to get face-to-face with Jesus for one reason or another—some to scrutinize him, some to be healed, some to be blessed, some to have their children blessed. Imagine the noise, the pushing and shoving, the dust kicked up by all those feet.

Imagine the haughtiness of those who expected others to get out of the way and the humility of others who never expected anything good to happen to them.

In the middle of all this crush and crowd and noise, Jesus said, “Two men went to the temple to pray.” This wasn’t all that unusual. The custom at the time was for men to pray twice every day, and the really religious prayed at least three times a day. So, these two men were doing their normal thing.

Two prayers

One man, a Pharisee, a very religious man, stood apart from the crowd. The Greek here means he stood apart from all the rest of the people. His prayer tells us why. He prayed: “God, I am so thankful I’m not like these other people, these sinners, especially that one over there in the back. I’m so good, I fast more than the law requires and give lots of money, too.”

This sort of religious arrogance told “all the rest of the people” they weren’t good enough to get close to God. This sort of religious pomposity kept “all the rest of the people” at the back. This sort of religious pride made Jesus sick.

The other guy—a no-good tax collector, a traitor to his own people, a kiss-up to Rome—stood at the back of the room. He stood way back there, and he wouldn’t even look up. Unlike the Pharisee, he didn’t dare raise his head, and in anguish he beat his chest, and with red eyes and gritted teeth he prayed, “God, have mercy on me.”

We religious types, we read this first story and stop. We smile and thank God we know the whole story, and we say, “That is how we should pray, ‘God, have mercy on me.’” And we congratulate ourselves on knowing the whole story.

More to the story

But Jesus isn’t done talking.

While he’s telling the story about the two praying men, people are bringing him their children to receive a blessing. This is what people did. Whenever a religious authority came to town, the people brought out their children to receive a blessing from the holy man. Jesus played the part well.

Unfortunately, the people weren’t listening to Jesus’ stories. They didn’t hear Jesus say the blessing is for the humble. They just kept pressing in, intent on what they wanted for themselves and for their children. And as they pressed in, Jesus’ disciples pushed back because they weren’t listening, either.

They weren’t listening because they were too worried about what positions they would hold in Jesus’ kingdom. And as the desperate crowd pressed in, they puffed out their chests as only a security detail can do and pushed back.

And Jesus said: “Uh, fellas, step off. Come here, kids.”

The noise level probably dropped a little, the way a crowd gets quiet when someone important is dressed down in front of everyone. In that quiet space, Jesus said: “These kids, they have what it takes to take a place in my kingdom. These kids, they don’t know yet to pretend to be righteous. So, don’t teach them your ways. Don’t take their innocence away from them. Instead, look at them, and return to yourself.”

I wonder how long the quiet lasted.

What about us?

In this quiet space, what is Jesus saying to us?

At one point, we were the humble tax collectors seeking mercy, but at some point, we forgot ourselves. At some point, we got too big for our britches. At some point, we became full of ourselves and moved right up in God’s face and dared to thank him that we’re so good. We dared to tell God that God owes us because we’ve been so religious, so devout.

In the meantime, the children would like to be blessed but can’t get to Jesus because we’ve taken up our positions in order to push back. The children, not knowing any better, just want to be close to Jesus, and here we are, in the way.

• The twenty- and thirty-somethings want to know their hard questions will be taken seriously.

• The teenagers want to sing the songs they know, the songs that stir their hearts.

• The children want to laugh and play and to know Jesus laughs and plays, too.

• They all want to do something meaningful without having to jump through all the hoops.

And what are we doing while Jesus tries to tell them stories? We’re complaining about the style and quality of the music. We’re putting our feet down to guard our turf, to make sure no one messes with our tradition. We’re trying to keep the ship afloat when the kids would rather swim anyway.

And pastors are expected to preside over it all!

What has happened to our faith?

When did we stop beating our chests and praying, “God, have mercy on me, a sinner” and start thumping our chests and boasting about how good we are?

What will it take for us to return to ourselves?

Lord, have mercy, indeed.

Eric Black is pastor of First Baptist Church in Covington, Texas, and a member of the Baptist Standard board of directors.

I remember passing by the Democratic booth at the state fair when I was very young. I knew almost nothing about politics or world affairs at that age, but I prayed fervently for those Democrats as I walked by, because I knew Democrats were bad and they weren’t Christians.

Kyndall Rae RothausRarely can we recognize the hell-bound at first glance, but here I was, tiny little girl, facing an entire group of adults who had self-selected to be on the side of evil. I assumed they just didn’t know any better, so I prayed for their souls, that they would come to love Jesus.

I don’t know where I got the idea all Democrats were going to hell. I doubt any adult put it to me that bluntly. But I was an odd child who took things far more seriously than most children. I absorbed what adults said, probably without the grown-ups knowing I was listening. My mind always was active, drawing conclusions, and when the conclusions were sad, I felt it deeply and also felt responsible for doing my part to fix it. Hence my childhood mission to convert Democrats with my private prayers.

(I didn’t just target Democrats. I also wrote Bible verses on slips of paper and left them on random porches in my neighborhood.)

Fast-forwarding

Fast-forward to when I turned 18. I was with one of my best friends as she was registering to vote in Oklahoma, and she didn’t know whether to check Republican or Democrat. I was taken aback at how uninformed she was. I’m sorry to confess I might have laughed at her. I blamed her ignorance on the fact she didn’t have nearly as much exposure to Christianity growing up as I did. And so I explained with poised authority that the only right option was “Republican.”

Fast-forward to my early 20s. I met some amazing Christians who deeply inspired me with their sincerity, their compassion and their commitment to Jesus. I didn’t find out until much later they were Democrats. This was disconcerting, to say the least. I had to reckon with the fact as far as I could tell, there were people on the “other side” who somehow shared my faith.

Fast-forward to 2008. I found myself thinking Sen. Obama’s speeches made good sense much of the time, even though he was pro-choice. I remember watching his family walk out with him to accept the presidency and seeing all the beaming, tear-filled faces in the crowd and feeling the weight of this historic moment and thinking that regardless of whether you agreed with his politics, this was a fantastic breakthrough in American history.

I could go on, but the point is, I had to reckon with seeing good on the “other side.” Meanwhile the world around me was becoming increasingly entrenched in its polarization.

“Not really Christian”

I spent the last few years of my life as the pastor of a quiet little church on the outskirts of San Antonio. In a big city like that, it often felt like our little congregation was largely invisible. We inconspicuously said our prayers, celebrated births and baptisms, sang hymns, did mission work in Moldova and the Eastern Congo, volunteered with Habitat for Humanity, and so on.

When I transitioned to being the pastor of Lake Shore Baptist Church in Waco, I learned I’d moved to a church with a reputation. On the one hand, Lake Shore is known for its active participation in compassionate ministries all over Waco. On the other hand, I’ve been told there is a rumor around town we are “not really Christian.”

Of course, we are flawed, just like any church. We are made up of sinners, just like any church. Like most churches in Waco, we also read the Bible, preach the gospel, give our tithe, teach Sunday school, pray for each other and for the world, baptize believers, confess our sins, seek to follow Jesus, take communion and sing “Amazing Grace.”

No. 1 priority

If I had to boil it down, I would say our No. 1 priority is to love God and love our neighbor. We’re rather convinced that is the most important thing we do. Who knows where we got that idea, but it has stuck. We also try to do justice, love kindness and walk humbly with our God. We care about the least of these, about visiting the sick and feeding the hungry.

It’s odd to think I’m now a part of a group that gets labeled as barely Christian, a group some Christians mock and other Christians pray for when the only significant thing that has happened to my relationship to Jesus over time is that it has deepened.

I am convinced the suspicions people have about us at Lake Shore are not spiritual but political. After all, the detractors don’t know our hearts. But Lake Shore is known to have a larger percentage of “liberal” constituents than your average Waco church. Thus we must not really be Christian.

Meanwhile, Donald Trump must be a champion of Christian values and ideals because he appears to support most of the Republican platform.

I’m not interested in a superiority game in which we try to prove whose Christianity is better. I’m not in the Christian faith to win or to prove myself. That’s not why I’m writing this piece.

Politics do not make us Christian

I am in the Christian faith because I love God, and I want to love my neighbor and because I am convinced God loves us all. The only reason I am writing this piece is to remind us that politics do not make us Christian. Christ is what unites us. Not Donald Trump. Not political campaigns. Not being on this side or that side of an issue.

We are united by the grace of our Lord Jesus Christ. Let’s start there, and see where else we might have common ground, despite our political differences. Let’s all re-examine what it means to vote “Christian.” Let’s be open to learning and averse to entrenchment.

Let’s be quick to listen, slow to speak and slow to become angry. Let’s be merciful, for God is merciful. Let us consider how we may stir one another on toward love and good deeds, not giving up meeting together, as some are in the habit of doing, but encouraging one another, and all the more as we see the day approaching.

Let us get rid of all bitterness, rage and anger, brawling and slander, along with every form of malice. Let us in humility value others above ourselves, not looking to our own interests but each of us to the interests of the others. In our relationships with one another, let us have the same mindset as Christ Jesus.

Let us love one another, for God is love.

Kyndall Rae Rothaus is senior pastor of Lake Shore Baptist Church in Waco. This article originally appeared in the Waco Tribune-Herald; reprinted by permission of the author.

I never will forget Oct. 15, 2013. The phone rang late that night, which never can be a good thing for a pastor. You expect to hear tragic news about someone in your congregation.

Zac HarrelThis phone call wasn’t about a church member, though. It was about my mom. She suffered a major heart attack and passed away almost instantly. You never fully recover from the shock of receiving news like that. The pain always is there. At least three years in, I have not found much truth in the saying, “Time heals all wounds.”

In the days immediately after the shocking phone call, my heart continually turned to the book of Job. I thought about verse 21 in chapter 1. It’s the famous verse that says, “The Lord gives, and the Lord takes away.”

The Lord was gracious to me in so many ways through my mom. She was such a gift of his grace. But in that moment, I realized all he had taken away, too.

“Blessed be …”

She never got to meet her granddaughter, who was born two months later. She didn’t get to spoil that child or see her grow and change and in many ways be an exact image of her. Those wounds still hurt, but my heart still proclaims with Job, “Blessed be the name of the Lord” because Jesus is my hope. His resurrection is the hope of my resurrection and my mom’s resurrection to come. God will redeem what has been taken away. Jesus is enough in this moment, in this grief.

The book of Job also convicted me about my own ministry to people in grief before I had experienced grief myself.

I am convinced Job’s friends are examples of what not to do. When we are walking with others through grief, we don’t have to have the right words. In fact, we don’t have to have words at all.

Job’s friends decided they must have an answer. They believed they must speak into the situation and tell Job the truth. These friends ended up doing more harm than good, and God rebuked them for their insensitive ministry.

No magic words

In my own ministry as a young pastor, I thought I needed to say something to fill in the silence that inevitably comes in grief. I was wrong. When I lost my mom, I didn’t need words. In fact, I probably couldn’t tell you anything anyone shared with me those first few weeks. What I do remember is who came by, who just sat with me, who called to tell me they were praying. I remember who was there.

There are no magic words to speak to those walking through grief. They don’t need an answer from you in that moment. They need you. They need you to be the hands and feet of Jesus, to be a physical representation of the love and presence of our Savior. Our presence is our greatest ministry to those walking through grief. Silence is not something we have to fill. Silence is an opportunity for us to sit and cry with those who are hurting. Powerful ministry happens in silence.

No timetable

There is no timetable with grief. It comes on without warning days, weeks, months—even years—after we lose our loved ones. The loss we feel is healthy. It is a longing for the redemption and reunion to come in Christ.

It has been three years since I lost my mom, and the grief still is there. It still is there when I see her picture or when I find a note with her handwriting on it or a gift she gave me 10 years ago.

In those moments, I don’t need someone to give me a bumper-sticker platitude. I need someone to sit with me. I don’t need the perfect words. I need someone to represent for me our perfect Savior, who is with us. Always.

Zac Harrel is pastor of First Baptist Church in Gustine, Texas.

Ellis Orozco is pastor of First Baptist Church in Richardson, where he has served seven years. He shares his background and thoughts on ministry in the Baptist Standard’s “Deep in the Hearts of Texans.” To suggest a Baptist General Convention of Texas-affiliated minister to be featured in this column or to apply to be featured, click here.

Background

• Where else have you served in ministry, and what were your positions there?

Corpus Christi Baptist Church in Corpus Christi, January 1993-December 1999, senior pastor

Calvary Baptist Church in McAllen, December 1999-May 2009, senior pastor

• Where did you grow up?

Pasadena, Texas

• How did you come to faith in Christ?

I grew up in church and accepted Christ as my Savior at the age of 12. I was baptized in the church where I was raised, Templo Bautista in South Houston.

My family was the greatest influence on my decision. They talked to me about Jesus and modeled his love in such a way that it would have been difficult for me not to except Jesus.

• Where were you educated, and what degrees did you receive?

Texas A&M University, College Station—bachelor of science in mechanical engineering, 1986

Southwestern Baptist Theological Seminary, Fort Worth—master of divinity, 1993

George Truett Theological Seminary, Waco—doctor of ministry, 2004

Ministry/church

• Why do you feel called into ministry?

I experienced a call to ministry as I was starting a career in engineering. I also was serving as a volunteer in the youth department at my church, and I slowly realized I was built for ministry. Eventually, the call was rather dramatic in that it pulled me away from the field for which I had devoted four years of concentrated study. However, once I made the decision, God began to confirm it in various ways. Engineers are problem solvers. Instead of solving mechanical problems, I now help solve community problems, spiritual problems and people problems.

I had a sense I could work for 40 years as an engineer and do a decent job, but I never would be a great engineer. It never would be completely fulfilling for me. I knew that if I served God full time—in whatever capacity he had planned for me—I would live a fulfilled life. There was a sense of “rightness” about it.

It hasn’t always been easy. People problems are more difficult to solve than mechanical problems. But I never have looked back, and I never have regretted the decision.

• What is your favorite aspect of ministry? Why?

Helping people. Whether it’s preaching or teaching or counseling or simply listening, I have the opportunity to help people almost every day.

I love being a small part of people’s lives and watching them grow spiritually. I love being there in the special moments of life—weddings and birthday parties—and in the difficult times—funerals and hospital waiting rooms. It’s hard work in that it has a way of consuming all of life—the work is always there—but it is very fulfilling.

• What one aspect of congregational life gives you the greatest joy?

As I mentioned above, helping people in their time of need, listening to them in their time of pain and rejoicing with them in their time of joy.

I love watching their children grow. I love when the children run up to me on Sunday, give me a big hug and call me “pastor.”

• What one aspect of congregational life would you like to change?

Administration, organization and management. I don’t do these well and am happy to let others do them for me.

• How do you expect congregational life to change in the next 10 to 20 years?

Wow. It’s probably easier to list the few things that will not change. We are experiencing massive paradigmatic shifts in our culture, and the church is feeling the weight of those changes.

I believe there are foundational principles that never change—the powerful impact of love for God and neighbor; the hunger for friendship; the need for human contact and community; a thirst for answers to deep philosophical questions about life and work and death; a desire for something beyond the material. These will remain. However, almost everything about the way they are delivered and experienced will change.

We already are seeing it in changing attendance patterns, styles of worship, discipleship pathways, and methods of connecting and building community. The changes seem tsunami in scope.

For most churches, the challenge of the next 10 to 20 years will be navigating these tsunami-like changes without drowning. But remember, the basics don’t change. It’s still one person telling another person about Jesus.

About Baptists

• What are the key issues facing Baptists—denominationally and/or congregationally?

Denominationally, it’s probably the same that any organization built in the 20th century is facing. How to stay relevant in a 21st century Christian landscape that is rapidly changing?

The denomination will need to do three things—clearly define her relevance in 21st century kingdom work, become extremely agile and become more open. The new reality is we have more ability to connect than ever before, which means the walls are coming down all over the globe. Baptists have a history of building walls. We are not as adept at tearing them down. Worn out pathways, bureaucracy and myopic practices will kill us.

About Ellis

• Who were/are your mentors, and how did/do they influence you?

My earliest mentors were my grandfather, father and Uncle Ellis, who I was named after. They modeled what it meant to be a Christian man. Another huge influence was my mom, who modelled what it meant to be a strong and passionate leader.

My other mentors in ministry were, in no particular order:

Rudy Sanchez, a great pastor who loved me like a son and was the first person I talked to after feeling called to ministry.

Phil Strickland, who modeled what it looked like to think deeply about my Christian faith and practice.

Mateo Rendon, who was my first friend and colleague in ministry. He taught me how to navigate the tricky political waters of being a pastor, how to love the sheep and where all the best taco places are located in Corpus Christi.

Ken Hall, who was president of Buckner the 10 years I was on the board of directors. He taught me a lot about being an effective leader.

Joel Gregory, Calvin Miller, Chuck Swindoll and Haddon Robinson, who were my first preaching mentors, albeit mostly from afar.

There are many others. I hate to leave someone out. I learned mostly by developing a keen eye and squeezing a lot of information out of small mentor moments.

• What did you learn on the job you wish you learned in seminary?

Leadership in general and being a change-agent in particular. I learned a lot in seminary about theology, homiletics, hermeneutics, church history, Christian ethics, pastoral care and church organization. All these are important and have served me well. But I learned almost nothing about how to be the kind of leader that is a change-agent.

This is the greatest challenge facing most of our pastors.

• Name some of your favorite books (other than the Bible) or authors, and explain why.

How much time do you have?

Overhearing the Gospel by Fred Craddock, because he was not only one of the best at the craft of preaching, but he also could also explain why.

Pedagogy of the Oppressed by Paulo Freire, because it was formative in my understanding of social justice and the rhetoric that can be truly prophetic.

To Walk as He Walked by T.B. Maston, because it is brilliant and so simple you think to yourself, “I could have written this.” But you couldn’t.

The Cost of Discipleship by Dietrich Bonhoeffer, because it was the first book I read when I got to seminary, and because Bonhoeffer lived it out and died for it.

The Sermon on the Mount by Hans Dieter Betz, because the Sermon on the Mount is sublime and Betz is exhaustive.

Homiletical Plot by Eugene Lowry, because I love narrative.

The 5 Dysfunctions of a Team by Patrick Lencioni, because I resonate with its values, and it was formative for my understanding of how to lead teams.

My Utmost for His Highest by Oswald Chambers, because after 30 years of reading it, it still kills me.

The Sacred Journey by Frederick Buechner, because I couldn’t speak for an hour after I finished reading it—just like when I walked out of the theater after watching Schindler’s List for the first time.

Cathedral by Raymond Carver, because I love short stories, and Carver was the truest.

To Kill a Mockingbird by Harper Lee, because I was young and impressionable, and if a book could make me feel this way—it made me want to read everything.

One Hundred Years of Solitude by Gabriel Garcia Marquez, because the story is epic, but mostly because he was an inspiration to me as a Latino.

I could go on—but I’ll stop.

• Who is your favorite Bible character (other than Jesus)? Why?

The Apostle Paul, because he was an interesting combination of crazy and broken and vulnerable and brilliant. And when you read his letters, you never doubt how much he loves Jesus.

• If you could get one “do over” in ministry, what would it be, and why?

My family. I would spend more time with my family. Don’t we all say this one?

To read other “Deep in the Hearts of Texans” columns, click here.

The world’s greatest humanitarian crisis is a test for Christians. Will we demonstrate the loving, healing presence of Christ to 65 million refugees, most of them Muslims? Will we see the face of Jesus—who also was a refugee—in their faces?

Marv KnoxThe fate of those refugees—as well as the relevance of the church—depend upon our response, a leader of the World Vision relief organization insisted. He’s exactly right.

Steve Haas, World Vision’s chief catalytic officer, described the global refugee crisis, and particularly the calamity caused by civil war in Syria, to a Bible study class at Wilshire Baptist Church.

Untenable, enormous

“There are 65 million refugees. In the past 18 months, that number grew by 15 million,” Haas said.

The Syrian civil war, which began when government soldiers loyal to President Bashar al-Assad fired on peaceful protestors during the “Arab spring” uprising in March 2011, has produced calamitous results, he reported.

“In Syria, 8 million people have been internally displaced, and 4 million to 5 million have said even living inside Syria is untenable” and have become refugees, he said. “Their experiences are bone-chilling, brutal.”

To help explain the enormity of the situation, Haas compared Syria’s displaced people and refugees to America.

“If Syria were (the size of) the U.S., how many cities would this describe? How many people would be homeless right now?” he asked. Comparatively, the homeless rate would be 161 million, the combined total of 19 cities—San Diego, Dallas, San Jose, Albuquerque, Austin, Jacksonville, San Franciso, Indianapolis, Columbus (Ohio), Fort Worth, Charlotte, Detroit, Seattle, Denver, Washington, Pittsburg, Boston, Nashville, Baltimore.

The world finally took notice of the Syrian refugees’ plight when 700,000 to 800,000 of them tried to relocate in Europe, Haas reported.

Epic proportions

“It’s the worst humanitarian crisis since World War II, and it fits within a larger context—the worst humanitarian crisis we’ve ever seen, in terms of 65 million (global) refugees,” he said.

Those 65 million people have scattered among countries such as Sudan, Somalia, India, Myanmar, Iraq, Afghanistan and about 45 others.

And the plight affects more than the refugees, he stressed. “These refugees are moving into places that are also dealing with loss or fragility. They are having difficulty feeding their own citizens, and in comes these large numbers of people.”

The refugee crisis is a “generational test,” Haas said, citing Michael Gerson, former head speechwriter for George W. Bush and now a Washington Post columnist.

“If the global refugee response is insufficient here, it is insufficient,” Gerson wrote. “If American churches and charities are not relevant here, they are irrelevant.”

Ironically, the refugee crisis escalated as global poverty declined, Haas said. In 25 years, deaths of children under age 5 declined by 33 percent, while the global population soared by 1 billion. More than 2 billion people gained access to clean drinking water, the maternal death rate fell by half, and the malaria rate declined 25 percent.

“So, where is poverty going?” he asked. “It’s going to fragile places, … where trust has been broken down, where government concepts are largely absent, where the wealthy and powerful feed on the unpowerful with no recourse for justice.”

Eighty-six percent of refugees have migrated to some of the world’s poorest countries, he said.

This is a test

The crisis spawned by 65 million refugees created a “test case” for Christians, Haas insisted.

“I believe God’s got us in a test, and he’s saying: ‘Work it out. … It’s not the world you want; it’s the world you have. And I’ve given you the resources, the treasure, the talent. And I want you to invest in these places. Don’t recede; dive in.”

The test is whether Christians will give people throughout the Muslim world an opportunity to fall in love with Jesus, he said.

Those people need food, hospitals, housing, clothes, education for children, jobs training for adults, clean water, waste-treatment plants and other support services crucial for life and health.

It’s “missions for big people,” Haas said.

“We’re in a battle against time,” he noted. A major concern is “the radicalization of youth,” which makes refugee camps recruiting grounds for terrorist organizations.

But the crisis also gives Christians an opportunity to present—and find—Jesus.

“When we come together to show ourselves as the hands and feet of Jesus, what happens? We find Jesus there,” he reported.

“The heart of Islam is really wounded. The question is: Do you just let it bleed? There are real people here. Or do you go and minister the love of Jesus? Where we minister the love of Jesus, we’re seeing the heart of Islam start to beat toward Jesus.

“Folks you never would have thought would have the opportunity to experience the love of Jesus are actually experiencing it—in real time. The impact is incredible. But we’re going to be in this for a while.”

What to do?

So, what can we do? Jesus said we can measure our response to him by how we treat “the least” of this world, and you cannot imagine a lesser “least” than 65 million refugees.

Here’s where to start:

• Learn. Listen to the news. Read about the refugee crisis and violence in the Middle East.

Of course, it’s complicated. But ignorance is no excuse for inaction.

• Pray. This seems like a “Sunday school answer,” but it’s real. Pray for the refugees. And even if their enormous plight tests the limits of your faith, pray for yourself. Ask God to give you a heart for them, and then see what happens when God answers that prayer.

• Invest. Missions and relief organizations depend upon our support. And when you think about who needs your money the most, it’s hard to find a better answer than refugees. World Vision is a wonderful, responsible ministry, well worth your support. Click here for donation options.

• Go. Or at least help others go. Relief organizations need volunteers on the ground, and opportunities are abundant through churches, missions organizations and relief ministries.

Follow Marv on Twitter: @marvknoxbs

One of the best things about parenting is the excuse to see animated movies without seeming weird. My family and I recently saw Kubo and the Two Strings, which is rendered beautifully in stop-motion animation. Set in Japan, the film tells the story of a boy, Kubo, who plays a magical shamisen, a traditional three-stringed lute with a square body.

Ellen Di GiosiaKubo provides for his widowed mother by telling stories in the village square, accompanying them on his instrument. As he plays, the strings’ vibrations coax colorful squares of paper from a stack, and they soar through the air, folding themselves into intricate shapes. Origami warriors—heroes and villains—do battle as he plucks and strums, drawing crowds eager to see and hear the story.

A mother’s love

Kubo and his mother live in a cave, hiding from the Moon King. After Kubo stays late one evening in the village, the daughters of the Moon King emerge and devastate the town. Kubo’s mother comes down from the cave and uses her final burst of magic to save her son. In her last moments, she urges Kubo to search for his father’s armor, which will protect him. Kubo takes a strand of his mother’s hair and keeps it close to him.

Kubo joins two new friends, Monkey and Beetle, who help him on his quest. His magical shamisen calls forth origami that leads the way and even creates a boat for his journey. He finds his father’s breastplate, and Beetle takes up the bow. Kubo learns that Monkey and Beetle are more than just friends. They are his parents—although their human bodies have died, they have transformed until the time they can be reunited with their child.

The magic cannot last forever, though. In the battle with the Moon King’s daughters, Monkey and Beetle are killed. The first of the strings on Kubo’s shamisen is broken, and then the second, and the third. Finally facing the Moon King, Kubo picks up his instrument. Remembering his mother’s sacrifice, Kubo pulls out the strand of her hair he has kept close to him since her death. He winds it around the pins at each end of the neck of the shamisen. Then he pulls the string from his father’s bow and does the same. Finally, he plucks a hair from his own head for the third string.

The magic of his shamisen returns. The music he makes when his family strings come together defeats the Moon King. He joins his village in celebrating Obon, when the people visit the graves of their ancestors and commune with their spirits. Once they have spoken with their loved ones, the spirits are housed in paper lanterns and set adrift in the river. His mother and father, having protected Kubo and said goodbye, are released.

A lesson for us

There is a lesson for us here. I am not suggesting we worship our ancestors. They are not gods; they were human, with all the frailty that implies.

But it is a gift of the church that none of us is without mothers and fathers. Some among us were mothered or fathered poorly. Some have faced abuse and scorn at the hands of people who should have loved them. Some have come to faith without the benefit of family lineage. When our biological parents fail us, we look to men and women in our churches and faith traditions.

All Saints’ Day is Nov. 1. Many Free-Church Protestants do not celebrate the occasion, because our understanding of the word “saint” is different than that of our Catholic, Orthodox and Anglican friends. But if we say we believe all God’s people are saints, then that’s all the more reason to celebrate the day.

The Sunday school teacher who showed you love in the third grade? She’s a saint.

The deacon who faithfully visited the nursing home every Sunday afternoon and let you tag along? A saint.

The friend who encouraged you in your walk during high school, when you felt you were the only Christian at school? A saint as well.

None of them was perfect, and they did not perform miracles, but God used them to influence your life and draw you closer to Christ.

Our own faith has power, but when added to the heritage we have received, the magic is multiplied. Members of our faith families were the makers of sacred music on strings that now stretch across time and space, whose slightest words and actions sent vibrations of God’s Spirit into the world, where they finally reached our hearing.

They tell a story—The Story—of gospel love and sacrifice, of redemption and pardon, release and resurrection. If our ears are open to hear, we will enjoy a music that shapes us and, joined with our own strings, has the power to change the world.

Ellen Di Giosia is associate pastor of faith formation at Woodland Baptist Church in San Antonio.

So, what’s the third-most-important lesson you’ve ever learned?

Marv KnoxA couple of weeks ago, I asked you about your second-most-important lesson. Since then, I’ve been wondering: What else have we got to learn?

Of course, we can’t speak for each other. But I suggested we set aside the most important lesson anyone could learn: “For God so loved the world that he gave his one and only Son, that whoever believes in him shall not perish, but have eternal life.”

That freed me to suggest my second-most-important lesson: “You’re not as smart as you think you are.”

Until my sophomore year at Hardin-Simmons University, I assumed my white working/middle-class Texas Panhandle conservative Baptist Christian worldview was normative for everybody. I figured everyone everywhere who didn’t agree with my values and perspectives was just plain wrong.

Julian Bridges, my sociology professor, blew that assumption to smithereens. He helped me contemplate culture, customs and worldviews foreign to my own. That notion has blessed my life every day since.

Thank God, because that led to my third-most-important lesson. It’s what Baptists call the priesthood of all believers. I learned it in seminary from my church history professors, Bill Leonard and Glenn Hinson.

It’s the idea every person is both privileged and responsible to approach God directly for wisdom and guidance. It means faithful Christians do not violate others’ consciences. It’s the foundation of religious liberty. It leads to concepts such as democracy and church autonomy.

It frees us to learn from one another. That’s why I’m grateful to readers who responded to my invitation to tell us their second-most-important lessons. Here’s a selection:

A trio of lessons / Mary Jo Maples

In 2005, I realized my second-most-important lesson was something I had known intellectually but had not experienced the truth of its implications. 

After surviving what my surgeon called “one of life’s catastrophes,” I knew our times are in God’s hands, life is fragile and we are vulnerable, and our greatest treasures are our family and friends who pray for us. 

Mary Jo Maples is an online adjunct professor for Dallas Baptist University. She and her husband, Dick, a former Texas Baptist pastor, BGCT president, convention staff member and continuing DBU adjunct professor, now live in Guntersville, Ala., where they are members of First Baptist Church.

“What is man …?” / Bob Campbell

My second revelation came because of my interest in astronomy. I was growing up in the “Space Age,” and I was fascinated. Discoveries about space and the expansion of our universe were coming from every direction. Moon walks, the Big-Bang Theory, the universe is expanding at a rapid rate, knowledge that there were more galaxies outside the Milky Way—literally billions of them.

All of this caused me to realize what the Psalmist said applied to me: “When I look at your heavens, the work of your fingers, the moon and the stars, which you have set in place, what is man that you are mindful of him, and the son of man that you care for him?” (Psalm 8:3-4)  

I realized how small I am in God’s creation. Yet he still cares for me. Amazing.

Bob Campbell is the retired pastor of Westbury Baptist Church in Houston and a former chair of the Baptist General Convention of Texas Executive Board. He now lives in Bloomington, Ill., where he is a member of Sherwood Oaks Christian Church.

The (Golden) Easter Egg Rule / Marinell Turnage

My own second-most-important lesson?  “Do unto others as you would have them do unto you” actually means “Do unto others what they like and want,” which is not necessarily what you like and want. 

It’s OK if they like something else or don’t like what you like. They’re still an OK person, and so are you. I have had to learn this so many times. It sort of goes along with “No good deed goes unpunished.” 

The time it smacked me upside the head was at a big family Easter gathering at our house. I assumed everyone loved hunting for hidden Easter eggs. How could they not?  It’s so fun! Especially now that I had a 5-year-old granddaughter. 

So, for their sakes (um-huh), I sneaked the three dozen hand-decorated eggs our brother and sister-in-law brought, hid them in our front yard, and later announced to the two-dozen or so family members it was time to hunt for eggs. No one budged. They sort of ignored me; kept visiting. Whatever.

The afternoon waned, and various ones began to leave, one car at a time, until only our brother and sister-in-law and their family were left, but the eggs they wanted to take back home still were hidden in the front yard. Their young adult daughter remarked, semi-disgustedly: “Come on, Mom. Let’s you and I go look for them.” I went outside with them and helped gather them up, trying to remember where I had put the last two. It was awkward.

Now, when I think someone else should like what I like, or I’m trying to figure out what they like, instead of “the Alamo,” I silently tell myself, “Remember the Easter eggs!”

Marinell Turnage is a paralegal with HighGround Advisors (formerly Baptist Foundation of Texas). She is a member of Lakeview Christian Church in Garland.

Own your mistake / Paula Kershaw

If you make a mistake, own it!

Paula Kershaw is a nurse at the Lillie J. Jackson Early Childhood Center in Lewisville, where she is a member of First Baptist Church.

Mystery of birth—and practice / Carl Hess

This morning, I saw a couple of young Mormon missionaries walking down a sidewalk and was reminded of your second-most-important lesson. If you and I had been born into a Mormon family, would we still be Mormons?

During the late 1970s, the first female pilot to be assigned to an Army combat aviation unit came into my unit in Panama, and she was Mormon. Although I was twice her age and her military superior, I didn’t try to change her religion—which would have been illegal anyway. But several years later, she told me she had left the Mormon religion.

In aviation training, we had several “laws of learning.” One was the law of “primacy,” which said those things we learned first would be difficult to change. Practice doesn’t make perfect; it makes permanent.

This may explain to some degree why Jesus had so little good response from the religious right of his day while the “heathens” flocked to his teaching.

Carl Hess is a retired U.S. Army chief warrant officer and Vietnam veteran who served as a helicopter instrument flight examiner. A longtime Baptist, he now lives in Ozark, Ala., where he is a member of First United Methodist Church.

Two lessons / Fran Smith

The heart is a lonely hunter. 

They will know we are Christians by our love.

Fran Smith is a retired educator and member of University Baptist Church in Fort Worth.

Lessons from mother / Gaylon Haigood

My mother had good one-liners for a little boy that I still live by at 73.

• You are as good as anybody but better than no one.

• The Good Lord takes care of the birds, but the worms do not fall in their nest.

Gaylon Haigood is a retired geophysicist, a deacon since 1975 and a member of First Baptist Church in Richardson.

Follow Marv on Twitter: @marvknoxbs

Vote Trump because of Supreme Court

Concerning your recent rant against Trump and patriarchal families, I prefer values founded upon biblical teaching rather than cultural accommodation.

From the beginning, to provide for the propagation of the species, God created mankind as male and female. It’s part of the natural order. Accept it! And God ordained marriage, the union of a man and a woman, as the basis for the family.

Throughout the world and for millennia such has been the case, until last year, when in a 5-4 decision the U.S. Supreme Court decided it was time for a change, provoking Chief Justice Roberts to ask, “Who do we think we are?”

Although some in the Old Testament practiced polygamy, the Bible doesn’t sanction that behavior. Families are the basic blocks with which society and the church are built.  As clearly taught in both the Old and New Testaments, God ordained the father to be the head of the family, establishing a patriarchal system. Complaints, real or imagined, should be directed to God, not those conforming to God’s order.

Christian leaders aren’t condoning Trump’s past behavior. Trump’s salacious speech, however, isn’t nearly as troubling as are the many longstanding, public accusations of rape against Hillary Clinton’s husband. 

Christian leaders are supporting Trump because of the upcoming Supreme Court appointments. There are only two viable presidential candidates, and Clinton’s positions on abortion, homosexuality and gender identity go against the Bible and will almost certainly influence her appointments to the court.

Michael Leamons

Hico

“Locker room” sermons

The “locker room” talk most Christian women hear comes straight from the pulpit, from sermons and blogs telling a wife how she is to please her husband, to be submissive to him “in all things.”

As I wrote in a letter to Dr. Ronnie Floyd, a pastor in Texas said Satan focuses his attack on wives, and another pastor near my home said the husband has authority in his home, and he then proceeded to preach on Jesus’ authority—over the men, I suppose.

Pastors find joy in preaching these kinds of sermons. They wouldn’t do it if they didn’t get some kind of thrill from it. Turn on any Christian radio, and that is what you hear. Additionally, Christian women who desire equality in the church are castigated by comments under blogs.

Wouldn’t it be ironic if Donald Trump’s lewd comments about women forced us to look at what is being preached?

Thank you for this editorial.

Shirley Taylor

Willis

Seek God’s wisdom

Yes, Donald Trump’s audio of him speaking terribly about women is despicable and his apology much less than what it should have been. However, I find it disturbing that the Baptist Standard continues to join the liberal media’s biased reporting of the two presidential candidates.

Why have you not written of the continuing lies almost daily coming from Hillary Clinton and her close advisors? Lies clearly confirmed from multiple reliable sources, including the recent Wikileaks.

More importantly, why is there silence regarding her firmly stated position to use taxpayer dollars to expand abortion on demand or continue and expand Obamacare, driving medical insurance costs even higher for the larger portion of Americans.

A look at the Democratic platform should show to all Christians the opposition to God’s path embraced by Clinton and her party. These are much more important matters for us to consider as we pray for this election and its impact on the future of our nation.

Christians have a difficult choice to make, a choice most of us would prefer to not have to make. May God give us his wisdom—wisdom much better than we’ll get from biased media reporting.

Johnny Brisby

McGregor

Zac Harrel is pastor of First Baptist Church in Gustine, where he has served seven years. He shares his background and thoughts on ministry in the Baptist Standard’s “Deep in the Hearts of Texans.” To suggest a Baptist General Convention of Texas-affiliated minister to be featured in this column or to apply to be featured, click here.

Background

• Where else have you served in ministry, and what were your positions there?

I served three years as the youth minister at First Baptist Church in Port Aransas.

• Where did you grow up?

Pittsburg, Texas.

• How did you come to faith in Christ?

I walked the aisle and prayed the prayer when I was 8. But the reaching out of a youth minister when I was in high school helped me get serious about my faith.

• Where were you educated, and what degrees did you receive?

Bachelor of arts in Christian Studies, Howard Payne University, 2006

Master of divinity, Logsdon Seminary at Hardin-Simmons University, 2011

Ministry/church

• Why do you feel called into ministry?

I feel my calling is to help people live lives of ordinary faithfulness. I am called to help my people see all of their lives, the big and the small, as important to God and as opportunities to give glory to God.

• What is your favorite aspect of ministry? Why?

My favorite aspect of ministry is just the relationships you get to build. You have a front-row seat to the work of God in the lives of so many people through the good and the bad.

• What one aspect of congregational life gives you the greatest joy?

The everyday conversations and interactions you have with your people, where you can see the grace of God at work in their lives and in their families.

• How has your ministry or your perspective on ministry changed?

I think the change in my perspective is the truth that one of the most important virtues in pastoral ministry is patience. I started as pastor of this church when I was 24. I wanted everything to grow, to change and to be like every book I had read and every conference challenge I had heard.

The truth is ministry is about patient faithfulness. We have to be faithful to our calling, and we must be patient. God is working. He always is working. We must be faithful, and we must wait on him.

• Name the three most significant challenges and/or influences facing your congregation.

I don’t think these challenges are just for my congregation.

The first is the fragmentation of our society. We have to learn how to build community and fellowship again. Our technology has done so many wonderful things for us, and our social media world can help us connect to family and friends around the globe, but it also has stunted our ability to live in community in real life. We cannot retreat into polarized enclaves of people who think, act and vote like us. We must learn to build community based on the unity we have in our faith.

The second is the challenge of fear. The world is not like it was when so many of our congregants grew up. The culture is changing rapidly, and this rapid change can produce a paralyzing and angry fear. The influence of 24-hour news and talk radio does not help. The challenge is going to be reminding our churches and ourselves about the hope we have in Christ. We are called to be people of hope, not fear.

The third challenge for the church goes right along with this. Cultural or nominal Christianity is fading, and we should rejoice in this. Our challenge is going to be recovering what it means to be salt and light, to be agents of reconciliation, to be faithful witnesses to our communities and to our world in a rapidly changing culture and world.

About Baptists

• What are the key issues facing Baptists—denominationally and/or congregationally?

Religious liberty. To me, this is the key issue going forward for us as Baptists. Will we stick to our historic defense of this liberty for all, or will we give in to fear of the other? We must recognize when religious liberty is taken away from anyone not like us it is only a matter of time before it is taken away from us too. We must stand for religious liberty with conviction.

Another issue is making sure any one political party or ideology does not define us. The gospel cannot be co-opted by any political party. Where the Bible is clear, we must be clear and stand with boldness and courage. The gospel will offend all political ideologies at some points, and we must be faithful to the gospel.

About Zac

• Who were/are your mentors, and how did/do they influence you?

There have been three major influences on my life and ministry.

Michael Felkins was the youth minister who reached out to me in high school, who gave me my first opportunity to teach a Bible study, and who walked me through my calling in ministry. He has influenced me to love the gospel and to preach the gospel.

I interned under Ricky Cavitt at Coggin Avenue Baptist Church in Brownwood when I was in college. He gave me so many opportunities to grow, and from him I learned the importance of planting your life in one place and staying the course.

Andy Dennis was my Baptist Student Ministry director at Howard Payne University. I was on the leadership team for three years, and from Andy, I learned the importance of one-on-one discipleship and the power of gentleness and kindness in ministry.

• Name some of your favorite books (other than the Bible) or authors, and explain why.

This could change from week to week. But my two favorite books in the last year are by the same author, Rod Dreher. They are The Little Way of Ruthie Leming and How Dante Can Save Your Life. Both books are powerful and exactly what I needed to hear in crucial moments of my own life.

The Little Way of Ruthie Leming is a book about Rod’s sister, who got sick with cancer and died, leaving her husband and three kids behind. It sounds unbearably sad, but it is a must read. It is about the power of ordinary faithfulness and love. It is a story of how a small community surrounds and loves this family. Recognizing the impact one simple life can have reminded me of the power of our ordinary, everyday lives, the power of simply loving people in the same place for many years. It is a powerful memoir.

How Dante Can Save Your Life is about Rod’s struggle with idolatry of family and place as he moves back home after Ruthie’s death. After returning home, he finds all of his struggles and baggage from the past with his family still are there. He picks up Dante in a Barnes & Noble bookstore and begins to read. What he realizes is he is in his own “dark wood” and needs a guide out. Dante leads him to see his own sin and the grace of God, and Dante, along with Rod’s pastor and counselor, helps him be reconciled with his father. Rod’s honesty is refreshing, and his revelation that the problem is his disordered desires, loves and idolatry helped me to look into my own heart and to be honest with myself.

I cannot recommend these books enough.

Read other “Deep in the Hearts of Texans” columns about …

Bob Roberts

Dante Wright

Brent McDougal

Darin Wood

Kyndall Rae Rothaus

Joseph Parker

George Mason

Howie Batson

Lillian Hinds

Jorge Zayasbazan

Stacy Conner