You know how people talk when they get all excited and their diaphragm tightens up? They can’t draw a deep breath, so they sort of spit out their words, and everything they say is at once rushed but quiet and shallow and spaced apart.

Joanna talked to me that way the other day.

Jo came running across the front yard, where I was fertilizing bushes and trimming ivy. (Sometimes, I wonder if we accidentally planted kudzu out there.)

I could tell by the look on her face she was serious. She motioned for me to yank my iPhone buds out of my ears.

“You. Need. To. Come. Inside. The. House,” she said. “Right. Now.”

I couldn’t smell smoke, and I hadn’t heard an explosion. So, I wasn’t too worried. But I tossed the water hose with the fertilizing doohickey on it into the flowerbed and followed my wife.

Extreme Domestic Trauma

In a flash, I remembered my first foray into Extreme Domestic Trauma. It happened when we were newlyweds in Atlanta more than three decades ago.

Back then, Jo and I lived in a one-bedroom apartment not far from Georgia Tech and Midtown. The front door of our second-floor apartment opened directly into a narrow hallway that led past the bathroom to our bedroom. But if you entered the door and stepped immediately to the right, you stood in the other room—kitchen, dining room, living room altogether in about 300 square feet.

One evening after work, I headed straight to the bedroom to change clothes, and Jo walked toward the kitchen.

About five seconds later, I heard a shriek that just about knocked pictures off the wall. I turned and dashed toward the kitchen, absolutely certain a bandit with guns in each hand and a knife in his teeth must’ve kicked the back door in.

I stumbled into the kitchen. No bandit. But Jo stood there, pointing at the sink, where a wood roach happily waved his antennae.

Quickly, I crushed the roach. And then we discussed the appropriate times and occasions to shriek loudly enough to blow plate glass out of the front window. Thirty-four years later, we still don’t always agree on that topic.

‘Huge. Lizard’

This time, Jo wasn’t screaming. But as I ran behind her, trying to keep up, I made out two words. “Huge. Lizard.”

She headed past the sunroom to our bedroom, where a week’s worth of freshly laundered clothes lay on the bed, ready to be folded.

And down on the corner, on top of the spread, right beside the footboard, a chameleon swiveled his head back and forth, surveying new territory and an infinite array of places to hide out for the evening.

We could debate the definition of “huge,” but this guy was pretty good size by our standards. I’d say he was at least six or seven inches. And he was wood-brown, probably because it’s easier if you’re a lizard to blend in with a footboard than to make yourself invisible on a navy bedspread.

I picked him up, and he ducked his pointy face into my palm. We walked out the bedroom and back into the sunroom and through the door we left open so Topanga, our dog, could wander in and out on a beautiful fall afternoon. I placed the lizard among some purple and white pansies, patted his little head and wondered how he came into our lives.

Most likely, the lizard thought we left that door open for him, and he made himself at home in our house. Until, of course, Jo spotted him.

Job security

Jo and I are proud we have an equal marriage. We’ve both worked hard on it. But even at that, I know I’m supposed to do certain jobs. Some guys get annoyed when their wives ask them to clobber roaches and capture lizards. Not me.

Critter removal ranks right up there with opening pickle jars among my favorite husband duties. I look upon them as job security.

Jo may get tired of my corny jokes and lame stories. I know she’s tired of my obsessive-compulsive neat-freakness. And if you give me awhile—or her 11 seconds—we could come up with a whole list of habits and twitches that get on her nerves.

But as long as I can make her laugh, dispose of varmints and open jars, we’ll keep on enjoying a happy, happy marriage.

Did Dallas kill John F. Kennedy 50 years ago this week?

You may not have pondered that question lately, if ever. But if you live in or have visited North Texas the past few months, you probably encountered it. Local media—primarily the newspapers and specifically the Dallas Morning News—have mined the memories, facts, rumors and archives of the Kennedy assassination, smelting them for meaning.

Editor Marv KnoxPresident Kennedy and Vice President Lyndon Johnson visited Texas in November 1963 with an eye toward the election looming one year on the horizon. Kennedy-Johnson carried Texas in 1960, and they needed the Lone Star State for re-election in 1964. Then as now, Texas cradled conservatism, contrasting sharply with the administration’s liberal agenda. So, Kennedy and his elegant first lady flew down for a charm offensive—a vital early stop on the re-election campaign.

Predictably, Kennedy received a mixed welcome in North Texas. Crowds at the Fort Worth breakfast, on the Love Field tarmac and along the Dallas parade route cheered and waved their greetings on that sunny Friday, Nov. 22. But his adversaries also made their presence known. A “Wanted” handbill circulated, accusing Kennedy of treason. A full-page ad in the Morning News ironically proclaimed “Welcome Mr. Kennedy to Dallas” while asking a dozen accusatory questions.

Then three shots rang out as the president’s black limousine rolled past Dealey Plaza. They stilled the president, but they echoed across the nation and still reverberate through the halls of history.

National pariah

Almost immediately, Dallas morphed into a national pariah. Two days later, angry silence greeted the NFL’s Cowboys—who worked out on a cross-town practice field when the president was shot—as they took the field in Cleveland to play the Browns. Dallas residents soon learned to stop telling people where they lived when they traveled. Americans labeled Dallas the “City of Hate.”

Was—is—that true?

Of course not. At least, it’s no truer for Dallas than for any other city.

To be sure, some Dallasites opposed President Kennedy’s policies and said so. Some even spoke vulgarly of him and eclipsed human decency. But the majority still respected the presidency and did not wish him ill. They were as appalled and shocked as the rest of the nation when he died in Parkland Hospital. If possible, Dallas felt even more anguish than other cities, because the abominable happened in their community.

Stigma lasted years

The stigma stuck on Dallas for years. If you talk to people who lived there in the late 1960s and ’70s, many will recall being told, “You’re from the place that killed the president.”

Never mind the fact most of the Dallas opposition to Kennedy originated among conservatives, while assassin Lee Harvey Oswald embodied the farthest-left fringe of global politics. Never mind the fact even conspiracy theories did not pin the awful deed on normal conservative Dallasites. Never mind the fact regular residents—Democrats and Republicans alike—set their politics aside that Friday morning to go out and greet the Kennedys with cheers and goodwill.

Fifty years later, the stench of stigma still lingers. Not all the time, of course. Most Dallas residents rarely think about that dark day unless, perhaps, it slips into their minds as they drive west on Elm Street or out-of-town guests ask to visit the Sixth Floor Museum. Nobody mentions avoiding the word “Dallas” when they travel. And, obviously, most residents weren’t even born or lived elsewhere in the autumn of 1963.

Lessons learned

Still, as we look back on the Kennedy assassination, it’s fair to ask what we can learn from that moment. On the broad scale, the answer is very little. Other than cast our ballots, few of us ever will do anything that shapes the presidency. And should another assassination attempt occur in our lifetimes, fewer still will be in a position to do anything about it.

But we can learn from the stigma and shame Dallas felt in the assassination aftermath. We can orient our actions so we have no reason to live stigmatized and ashamed. We can …

• Live with no regrets. One reason the cloud of ignominy hung over Dallas was because so many residents felt humiliated by the way they spoke of President Kennedy before he died. Did they wish him harm? Never. But did they speak disrespectfully and insolently? Yes.

If you’ve experienced the untimely illness or death of an adversary, you probably have felt remorse for impolite words and unkind thoughts. Bad things happen, and people die. The only way to avoid contrition is to follow the Golden Rule and treat people with kindness and respect.

• Promote civility. We live in a decidedly uncivil society. The fabric of gentility and respect has frayed. This isn’t new; it was true in 1963. When a gunman slaughtered a president, the nation and world threw incivility back into Dallas’ collective face. If disagreements had been more respectful, the ammunition of embarrassment would not have been so bountiful.

Unfortunately, the culture of impertinence and disrespect is even worse now than it was 50 years ago. For the good of all of us, we need to treat each other better.

• Follow Jesus’ mandate: “You have heard it was said, ‘Love your neighbor and hate your enemy.’ But I tell you, ‘Love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you, that you may be sons of your Father in heaven’” (Matthew 5:43-45).

I have a bad habit of setting out on projects far larger than any reasonable person might attempt. As a case in point, I had to choose a graduate course in history I could teach next semester at Baylor University.

As I have done quite a bit of work on the subject, I chose as my topic “Global Christianity.” Not, as you may think, some particular period or region, but global Christianity—all of it. Covered in 15 weeks. Why will I never learn my limits?

IPhilip Jenkins n an odd way, though, that over-large choice really does have advantages. It forces me to make choices. You can’t tell every bit of the story, in every country and every era, so you have to concentrate on big themes and issues.

So, just suppose you were dealing with a group of well-read students who already know a lot about history, and particularly Christian history. What parts of this incredible story would you choose to focus on? Let me tell you what I am going to be looking at, and see if you agree.

Let me say right away another equally qualified professor might design a totally different course, with completely different approaches.

You can find my syllabus for the course online here. This also gives the list of books and readings, which of course are at the center of any course like this. I’m drawing on a wonderful list of scholars—Lamin Sanneh, Dana Robert, Brian Stanley and the rest.

Do realize, of course, when I require a book for a course, it does not mean I agree with its approach and conclusions entirely in every detail, but just that I think it makes a significant argument that demands to be discussed. You’ll also notice for each and every class, I give my students lists of questions that should help them through the various readings.

So what are the key themes and questions I think someone discovering this area needs to understand?

• The deep history

One involves what we might call the deep history of Christian expansion. Even today, when many Christians hear the word “missionary,” they think of the 18th and 19th centuries. Of course, missions are central to the whole 2,000-year history of the faith, and throughout that story, we find very similar themes—and even plenty of the same arguments about the best way to advance the cause.

• Success and failure

So, in different times and places, how did Christianity spread? When we hear about mass conversions, what drew people to respond to the missionary message? What messages attracted and inspired listeners, and which repelled? These various books tell us so much about their reasons for accepting or rejecting the new faith. So often, we see people attracted by the Christian promise of healing—healing in mind, body and society.

Another key question: How deep or sincere were conversions? After conversion, what were the main problems churches and missions faced in tending their new flocks?

Church growth is a critical part of the story. Just as interesting—and often heart-breaking—why did missions fail, and why did even whole missions collapse? Tragically, that also is part of the global story.

• How do we know?

Throughout the course, we also face a persistent question: How far can the written sources on which we rely tell us about the spiritual changes ordinary believers experienced? Is it possible to understand the attitudes of ordinary people who were at the receiving end of these missionary attentions?

• A Christian revolution?

Throughout the course, I’ll be looking at the effects of conversion, the means by which ordinary people took these radical new teachings to heart and converted them into their own cultural forms. And once they did that, what was the social impact of those changes? Is Christianity a message of conservatism, of social radicalism, of liberal reformism or all at once?

Repeatedly, we find those Christian churches giving voice to hitherto excluded groups. Often, that impact comes in the form of new access to literacy and education, a potent vehicle of what we can only call a global Christian revolution.

• A woman’s world?

The more we look at these books and the story they tell, the more centrally we see the impact of conversion and church expansion on women. Time and again, women emerge as key mission leaders, as the writers of hymns and new Christian literature, and the builders of social ministries. Global Christianity is a women’s movement or it is nothing.

Those are some of the questions I’ll be trying to explore in the New Year. Wish me luck! And next time, remind me to be less ambitious in designing my courses.

Philip Jenkins is distinguished professor of history at Baylor University, a scholar in Baylor’s Institute for Studies of Religion and author of numerous books, including The Next Christendom: The Rise of Global Christianity.

Ezra is growing up in the nurture and admonition of the Lord.

His mama (my older daughter, Lindsay) and his daddy (Aaron) teach and model Christ-centered living. They’re terrific parents. Joanna and I feel abundant joy when we watch them train and love our first grandchild.

Part of their parental program involves teaching Ezra, who will turn 3 in January, the catechism.

Editor Marv KnoxThey ask him the first question: “Ezra, who made you?”

He correctly replies: “God made me.”

For his part, Ezra also has been teaching his mother and father. They’ve learned almost-3-year-old little boys and girls think critically about God. Children may not use theological words, but do they ever consider the glory, sovereignty and grace of God—even when their mamas and daddies aren’t asking catechetical questions.

Like the other evening, when Lindsay asked Ezra, “Who made that mess?”

To a theologically astute—and straightforwardly logical—little mind, the answer seemed obvious.

“God made that mess,” Ezra replied.

Amen, Ezra.

Out of the mouths of babes

Truth, if not precise accuracy, proceeds out of the mouth of babes. Although I wasn’t there at the time, I’d be willing to guess that if Ezra answered technically and accurately, he would have said, “I made that mess.” Messes and almost-3-year-old little boys go together like peanut butter and chubby cheeks, like fresh fruit and sticky fingers.

Of course, it’s not totally inconceivable that God, who made the world out of nothing, made a mess ex nihilo in their house. But you could bet next Sunday’s tithe Ezra probably had something to do with it.

Still, Ezra told the truth, didn’t he? At some level, the God who made Ezra had a divine hand in the mess discovered by Ezra’s mama. The nature of small children is to make messes. To begin with, they aren’t born fastidious and tidy. And even if they were, their fine motor skills aren’t fully formed, so neatness is practically impossible. On top of that, making messes engages creative regions of their little brains, and creative activity helps develop their young minds.

So, you could build a case that God, working through a child’s natural intellectual/physical/emotional growth process, made that mess.

Childlike affirmation of a creative-if-messy God

We also know Ezra made that mess. What his mama tried to teach him—if she didn’t fall on the floor laughing at his clever-cuteness and/or childlike affirmation of a creative-if-messy God—is Ezra is responsible for his own actions. Knowing Lindsay as I do, I’d guess she told Ezra, and not God, to help clean up that mess.

Ezra’s “God made that mess” catechism makes me laugh every time I think of it. It’s like the best joke of the week, which I foist upon friends, who either snort in appreciation or chuckle to humor the grandpa in me.

But when I back away, I realize Ezra’s response is a distinctly, universally human reaction to messes. It’s true whether the messes are physical, emotional, psychological, spiritual, relational or a combination of all of them.

We find ourselves entangled in something awful, and we ask: “Why did this happen? Why did it happen to me? … Why did God make this mess?”

God holds us responsible for the messes we make

Across the millennia, humans have made messes and blamed God. We know this to be true, because it’s a common theme in literature and scriptures that span time, geography, race and culture. Recoil in horror at a mess, then blame God.

Of course, we could join young Ezra in a philosophical and theological debate over whether the God who made us makes all our messes. Ultimately, however, the Bible tells us we’re responsible. Beginning in Genesis 3 and proceeding through both the Old and New Testaments, we see God holds people responsible for the messes we make.

Messes are a price of ultimate freedom, of human free will. In order to reciprocate God’s love, we must be free to accept or reject that love. And with the freedom to love or hate God comes the freedom to act in this world. We can make masterpieces or messes. Our choice.

Nothing is free, including tax-exemption

“Politicking and pulpits—setting the historical context”  skims over a basic but important part of the restriction of politicking from the pulpit.

This restriction applies to churches only as a result of the tax-free status they choose to take advantage of through 501(c)3 non-profit status. This status is a privilege allowed to all 501(c)3 organizations—church, soup kitchen or community education group alike—the cost of which is an agreement to not engage in political speech.

If churches do wish to engage in political speech from their pulpits, they are perfectly free to do so, if they are willing to forfeit their tax-exempt status. If churches wish to have both tax-exempt status and the ability to endorse candidates from the pulpit, they are asking for special treatment by the government that is not afforded to nonreligious organizations. This would be a violation of the constitutional rights of other citizens, as the Fourteenth Amendment guarantees equal treatment by the government for all.

So remember, when churches complain about their inability to engage in politicking, they are only complaining about the cost of the tax-free status they have freely chosen to accept.

As the old saying goes, nothing is free—and that includes tax-exempt status.

Clifton Stuckey

Austin

One day a teenaged friend of mine, who is moving closer to knowing Christ, and I were playing basketball in the park, and he seemed to be moving slower than usual.

When I asked what his problem was, he showed me a huge painful-looking blister that took up a small section on his foot. I suggested we go back to the house to give his wound a rest, and he offered no objections. He was moving even slower as we walked home, so I carried him on my back for the last stretch of the trip.

After lounging around the house for a while with some of the other summer missionaries, we realized it was time to go to an evening prayer meeting at a local chapel. We Americans were going to be the special guest that night. I told my friend he could stay at the house with the cooking team and wait for us to get finished.

“I want to go”

To my surprise he said, “But I want to go.”

I asked if he had ever gone to chapel before and he said, “No.”

I made sure that he knew that it was not a close walk there. He hesitated, looked down at his now bloody foot and said, “OK.” Looking out for his health, I commented that it may be a better idea for him stay this time so that we would not aggravate his blister more.

“I want to go, though,” he pleaded.

I told him there would be plenty more opportunities. After all, I will be staying here a few years. Very meekly looking at me and almost embarrassed to ask, he responded with, “Well…couldn’t you carry me?”

I finally got the picture

Complete shame hit me. What had I been doing? This guy who was not a part of the body of Christ was nearly begging me to let him experience a church no matter what the cost, and I, Mr. Missionary, was trying to talk him out of it.

As I carried Cameron on my back to the chapel, we had a super in-depth spiritual conversation about genuine faith. He asked me about it, because apparently he had read it in his Bible the night before. I explained to him the realities of faith and how significant God’s grace is.

God is revealing himself to this kid in rapid movements, and he is teaching me lessons while he is at it.

William Bowden, a recent graduate of Texas A&M-Corpus Christi and former Go Now missionary, is serving in Wales with the Southern Baptist International Mission Board’s Hands On missions program.

I had asked three of the kids from the children’s ministry and feeding program if they wanted to help me paint some posters for a party I am planning for them.

They were more than willing. They agreed to come early Saturday morning. They were knocking at my door 10 minutes before the appointed time.

Janet Ruiz and kids painting some posters for the party.As they were painting, Kevin said, “Miss Janet, tell me about Jesus.”

“What would you like to know?” I asked.

“Everything,” he responded, wide-eyed and ready to soak it all in.

I told him about Jesus’ birth, his love for people and his obedience to the Father. As Kevin was painting and asking questions, I could see his hunger for more.

Many families here are broken. Most kids are raised by their grandparents or a mother who is never home. Many do not have a father in their home. Mothers are single and left alone to raise their kids and work. There is a deep need for a Father.

The children need to know that there is One who cares and wants to be their Rock, Protection and Provider. Pray that they come to know the Father who will never leave them and who will love them despite their faults.

Janet Ruiz, a student at the University of Texas-Pan American, is serving with Go Now Missions in Peru.

Why religious papers shut down

It is a bad day when Christian news has to be controlled by powers of the church fathers—heads of the different religions. All news should be included, good or bad.

Just as in government, it is the control factor. Those in the pew need to know what is going on in every religion.

We are in a new day. That is one reason why people are leaving the church.

Pope Francis is beginning to get things corrected in the Catholic church. Good for him.

Dub Horn

Fort Worth

Hello, Texas Baptists! As you read this, please know we are now less than two months away from Christmas. Just a reminder!

I so enjoyed being part of the annual meeting of Hill Baptist Association at First Baptist Church in Hubbard, where Bill Roe is the director of missions. Bill was the director of missions at the association in Johnson County when I began my ministry at First Baptist Church of Blum. He is a blessing to me and to my family.

David HardageFor the first time in my ministry, I attended the youth ministry Conclave  at the Arlington Convention Center. I was impressed and thank Jane Wilson, your Texas Baptist youth ministry specialist, for her work. I strongly encourage all who serve or lead in the youth ministry at their local church to attend in 2014.

Thanks to President Bill Ellis of Howard Payne University  for allowing me the honor of speaking at their chapel service. HPU is one of our fine Baptist General Convention of Texas institutions and is enjoying a great fall semester.

Russell Allen is pastor of First Baptist Church  in Grandview and has been at the church 15 years. I really enjoyed the Sunday morning I spent with them a couple of weeks ago.

Several of your Texas Baptist staff participated in BGCT Day at Truett Seminary and Logsdon Seminary  this month. I was invited to preach in chapel at both places, and we had great question-and-answer sessions with students, faculty and staff. Please join me in praying for these schools and their leaders.

I had a great evening with some leaders of Trinity Baptist Church in Mount Pleasant. Mike Kessler has served this church 25 years—10 as youth pastor, and the last 15 as pastor. Thanks to Mike for the invitation.

October was Pastor Appreciation Month, and I want to use this means to say “well done” to all those who are so faithfully serving our BGCT churches. Amen!

God bless you all, and more next time.

David Hardage is executive director of the Baptist General Convention of Texas Executive Board.

Well, at least I know my place.

On a trip to San Antonio, I stopped over in Buda—just south of Austin—to spend the night with our older daughter, Lindsay; her husband, Aaron; and their little boy and my only grandchild, Ezra.

Lindsay greeted me at the door with a big hug and told me she was happy I came to visit.

When I walked into the living room, almost-3-year-old Ezra looked up and asked, “The dog?”

So, I may be the grandfather, toy-player, song-singer and book-reader. But if I want to be really special, I bring my dog.

“No, buddy, Topanga couldn’t come this time,” I answered. He knelt down on the rug and played with his newest toy. It’s a magnetic ring with plastic fish, which you can catch when they spin around and open and close their mouths.

Fishing buddies

A second later, Ezra ran across the room, gave me a hug and a kiss, grabbed me by the hand and led me back over to help him catch fish.

One of the great benefits of being a grandparent of an almost-3-year-old is getting lost in the wonder of a child’s imagination. Sure, his fishing game plays an annoying version of “Three Little Fishies”  and features purple, red, yellow and green plastic fish. But for a little while, we camped at our favorite fishing hole, pulling whoppers out of the water.

Another fascinating aspect of being a grandparent of an almost-3-year-old is playing with a brand-new child every time we’re together. Ezra and his mama visited our house just a couple of weeks earlier, and he communicated one of this great passions this way: “Bird game.” But on this visit, he told me, “Play the bird game on iPhone.” Sure, he still gets confused about exactly how to slide his finger so he can launch the Angry Birds on my phone. But at least he knows how to talk about it now.

He also knows how to communicate his preference for one of his favorite restaurants. “Chuy’s!” he declares, and you can see the gleam of chips and salsa in his little eyes.

New generation off to a great start

Well, I got to spend a Sunday evening and about an hour of a Monday morning playing with Ezra. We entertained each other, and his parents just let us play.

My time with Ezra reminded me how much I enjoyed those days when his mama and Auntie M ran around on our carpet and amused their mother and me day after day. That was long ago, but now a new generation of our family is off to a great start.

We’re guaranteed to laugh and play for years to come.

The future of Christianity in America may be determined by whether there’s enough womb for the faithful.

Pardon the pun. But that’s the truth.

“The most significant variable for determining a society’s secularity is its fertility rate,” historian/sociologist Philip Jenkins told a group of pastors at a retreat sponsored by Buckner International last week.

Editor Marv KnoxJenkins turned the world of missions upside down a decade ago with publication of The Next Christendom: The Rise of Global Christianity. He documented how the center of Christianity is shifting from Europe and North America to the Southern Hemisphere. In the meantime, he became a transplanted Texas treasure—distinguished professor of history at Baylor University and a scholar in Baylor’s Institute for Studies of Religion.

The fertility rate is the average number of births per woman in a nation or group. If the average woman gives birth to 2.1 children, the society will remain demographically stable. If the births fall below that mark, it will age. Conversely, if the fertility rate climbs, the society will become increasingly younger.

Fertility and secularity

The relationship between fertility and secularity holds across the faith spectrum, Jenkins explained. Whether a nation’s identity is Christian, Muslim or another religion, the lower its fertility rate, the more secular it becomes.

For example, fertility rates are plummeting in predominantly Muslim Iran and historically Catholic Ireland, he said. Within a decade, Iran could become strongly secular, and in time, Ireland could lose its religious identity altogether, he predicted.

The connection between fertility and secularity explains the Southern migration of Christianity, which Jenkins documented in The Next Christendom.

Compare the seat of the Roman Catholic Church, Italy, which is becoming increasingly secular, and Uganda in Africa, where Christianity is booming. The median age in Italy is 42, and the fertility rate is 1.41 births per woman. In Uganda, where the fertility rate is 6.05, the median age is 14.

Africa will be most Christian continent

That explains why, by 2050, Africa will be far and away the most-Christian continent and home to 1 billion followers of Jesus, Jenkins said.

The explosion of Christianity around the world provides reason for abundant joy. But the statistics don’t look promising for America.

The U.S. birth rate fell to a record low  last year. The nation received 63 births per 1,000 women, down from 69 births in 2007 and 127 births in 1909, when the federal government started keeping records.

The U.S. fertility rate now is 1.88—significantly below the level required for stability.

Economists cite troubling implications associated with that number. A shortage of young workers will damage the labor force and weaken the economy. A shrinking working-age population will place additional strain on Social Security and Medicare.

Troubling consequences

But with Jenkins’ findings in mind, the trend forecasts even more troubling consequences. Our already secular society is tilting even further in that direction.

For Christians, the issue becomes a question of economics versus evangelism. Can we share our faith and minister effectively enough to counter the prevalence? Will we articulate the saving grace of God and embody the loving presence of Jesus clearly, passionately and broadly enough to offset the pressures?

We say we believe in the glory of God, the love of Jesus and the power of the Holy Spirit. Surely we won’t throw up our hands and surrender to deterministic economic models. Will we partner with God to turn the trend around?

The faith of the nation awaits our response.

The Old and New Testaments emphasize “the people of God.” They focus on people of faith living in community. Does American individualism undercut the growth of Christianity and hasten the decline of the church?

The idea of the people of God begins in Genesis 12. God visited Abraham and called him to a new land, promising to make him a great nation. This great nation would have a special relationship with God. When Abraham arrived in the land, God established a covenant with him (Genesis 15).

The idea of covenant was essential to the identity of God’s people. They were in covenant with God and each other. Later, God established a covenant with Abraham’s descendants, the nation of Israel (Exodus 19).

Corporate covenant identity

Joshua 7 provides a great example of the strength of this corporate covenant identity. Achan violated the rules of holy war by taking spoils for himself. His actions brought guilt to the whole community, as God held everyone accountable for what one person did.

Ezekiel 18 moderates this concept. The prophet quoted people who believed God was unjustly punishing them for their parents’ sins. The Lord responded by saying, “The soul who sins is the one who will die” (18:3). Although Israel remained God’s people, sharing a common identity in his covenant with them, individuals were responsible for their own sins. God doesn’t punish people for the sins of others.

In the New Testament, the church carries on this strong corporate identity. Acts 2:42-47 records the church devoted itself to “the fellowship.” The Greek word used here is koinonia, which refers to sharing things in common. The passage gives evidence of the church’s koinonia as it reports members sold their possessions and goods, giving to anyone as he had need, and they ate together “with glad and sincere hearts.” In 1 Corinthians 12:27, the Apostle Paul describes the church as the body of Christ, demonstrating the vital connection between church members.

Decline of the American church

The decline of the American church is the result of a “perfect storm” of various factors. Among these are the advent of postmodernism, the loss of Christian culture and growing individualism. Some Christians go so far as to become devoted followers of Ayn Rand, who taught a philosophy of radical individualism.

Sadly, many believers today regard the church as a vendor of religious goods and services for their benefit. They don’t see themselves as parts of the body of Christ, vitally connected in covenant with other believers. If they feel the church to which they belong no longer meets their needs, they start looking for another that will do a better job. Their first question is, “How can the church serve me?” instead of “How can I serve in this church?”

Our churches would gain greater strength to weather the “perfect storm” of this age if individual Christians saw themselves as members of a local body of Christ, called both to give and receive ministry.

Robert Prince, pastor

First Baptist Church

Waynesville, N.C.

Right or Wrong? is co-sponsored by the Texas Baptist theological education office and Christian Life Commission. Send your questions about how to apply your faith to bill.tillman@texasbaptists.org.