Mark Twain once opined, “If Christ were here now, there is one thing he would not be, a Christian.”

While Twain’s cynicism toward Christianity is well-documented and often harsh, he makes us pause, given the optics and the way some Christians act today. From the obscene sex abuse scandals to the way we treat each other, it makes you wonder.

I started my career at Buckner International on June 6, 1994. The D-Day date is purely coincidental.

Less than three months earlier, I was director of public relations at Southwestern Baptist Theological Seminary in Fort Worth, which was like being cruise director on the Titanic. When Russell Dilday was fired March 9, I was immediately called into a meeting with the new board chair.

What followed was a series of calamities too numerous to mention here. I was put on a very short leash in bumbling efforts to silence the messenger. I thought I’d seen and heard everything until the cover-up by trustees got worse every day.

I was told I was being watched, and when we put our house up for sale within two weeks, the person brought in to watch me asked the next day why we were selling. We lived on a cul-de-sac. Go figure.

I saw and heard things that were hard to believe. At one point, a religion reporter at a major newspaper who had become a friend told me Southern Baptists could teach Washington politicians a thing or two. I winced, even though I knew it was true.

At 35, after almost 10 years of being embroiled in Southern Baptist battles, I was cynical and disillusioned. I knew what Twain meant. My faith in Christ was strong, but I had lost all faith in denominational Baptists and to some degree my fellow believers.

And then the opportunity at Buckner came along.

Texas Baptist mentors like Tom Brannon, Presnall Wood and Toby Druin were instrumental in encouraging me to take the job. As Wood told me, “Scott, Texas Baptists need to hear Buckner stories.”

His words were prescient. As an editor and Texas Baptist statesman, Wood knew the stories of Buckner and other Texas Baptist care ministries could be a suave for so many wounds. But what neither of us knew was how telling those stories for 30 years would become my spiritual suave.

Pure and undefiled

Technically, Buckner doesn’t have a theme verse, but if it did, it would surely be James 1:27. I’ve never been inclined to get a tattoo, but if I did, that verse would be it.

“Pure and undefiled religion in the sight of our God and father is this: to visit orphans and widows in their distress and to keep oneself unstained by the world” (NASB).

That would be a long tattoo. Instead of putting it on our arms, maybe we should tattoo it on our hearts.

Texas Baptists are at our best when we are distracted by doing good. James knew what he was saying when he told us to focus on the needs of the most helpless and defenseless in society. A few things happen.

When we do good

First, it’s what Jesus did. We follow the example of Jesus when we serve the most vulnerable in our world.

Jesus’s human care ministry was healing the sick and lame, feeding the hungry and welcoming the poor and disenfranchised.

James also knew when we focus on serving the vulnerable, we’re too busy doing good and we can’t find time for other things.

I’ve watched hundreds of volunteers putting a new pair of shoes on children through Buckner Shoes for Orphan Souls, and I’ve never heard them arguing theology or squabbling over doctrine. And as I’ve quipped before, no child has asked if they are receiving Baptist shoes.

Ask any volunteer with Texans on Mission doing mud-outs, clearing trees with chainsaws, or cooking and serving hot meals for people whose lives are devastated by disaster and you’ll find they’re too busy to fight each other or fight over denominational issues.

In fact, the only time that seems to happen in the New Testament is when Pharisees show up and criticize Jesus and his followers for doing good.

Another thing that happens when we’re doing good is we demonstrate the gospel to a lost and cynical world, proving skeptics like Twain wrong.

I serve as a greeter at my church’s monthly food distribution, welcoming people as they drive through the line and the food is put in their vehicles. I love the conversations I have with them, but even greater is seeing and feeling their appreciation for this ministry. Our neighbors know the type of church we are.

Serving and trusting

I’ve been around Baptist long enough to know simple answers rarely work. I’ve seen the worst of who we can be, so I’m not naïve either.

Along with focusing on pure and undefiled religion by serving the vulnerable, let’s consider another solution for our occasional if not ongoing differences.

Texas Baptists instituted a system of trusteeship decades ago to govern our affiliated ministries. While this system has its faults and weaknesses, it nonetheless offers an effective platform to address serious issues with deliberations.

While the trustee system vests the responsibility of the institution with the current trustees, it should also engender real trust with constituents and key stakeholders.

I’ve seen what happens when boards take on agendas not in the best interest of the institution, but more often, I’ve seen the effectiveness of boards when they function as they were intended.

It’s ironic after my experience with the Southwestern Seminary board that I would voice support for the trustee system. But if I can trust trustees at our Texas Baptist ministries, surely anyone can.

After 40 years in Texas Baptist life, I would like to see us give trustees (and regents) the opportunity to address issues. That does not eliminate involvement from concerned and even passionate stakeholders who are not on the board. To the contrary, it gives us people we can share our concerns with.

Our love for each other is shown in how we work together to answer difficult questions and solve problems we face together.

But Jesus taught us our love for our neighbor is just as important. Serving others in a Christlike way proves even Mark Twain wrong.

Scott Collins is the retired senior vice president of Communications at Buckner International and currently serves as interim editor of the Baptist Standard. The views expressed in this opinion article are those of the author.

CORRECTION: Typo corrected in quotation of James 1:27.

RE: Voices: Sad for Texas Baptists

I am shocked and saddened by the publication of Voices: Sad for Texas Baptists in the Baptist Standard. I am troubled both by the harsh accusations Mr. Currie makes in his article and by the decision to publish such a minority‑opinion piece. The carelessness on display is astonishing—especially in light of the fact that the BGCT, and the institutions historically tied to them, have for decades publicly affirmed a biblically faithful view of sexuality.

I believe most Texas Baptist churches, including mine, disagree with Currie’s opinions. I am particularly appalled by his suggestion that those who maintain the biblical definition of marriage and sexuality are not “truly Baptist.” Labeling anyone holding historic Christian convictions as “fundamentalists” is a weak ad hominem attack, seemingly intended more to provoke controversy than foster honest dialogue.

Commitment to the authority of Scripture has long been one of the defining marks of Baptists. While we also affirm the priesthood of all believers and the autonomy of the local church, manipulating these convictions to justify accepting unbiblical positions is a grave misuse—one that is both disingenuous and dangerous to our witness and unity. There are clear doctrinal boundaries within our Baptist heritage, and to suggest otherwise misunderstands our historic commitment to the authority of Scripture.

This goes beyond differences in biblical interpretation—at its heart, it is about faithfulness to what Scripture clearly teaches. It is not a secondary matter on which we can simply “agree to disagree.” Scripture is clear in its opposition to all sin, including sexual immorality. Overlooking or excusing sinful behavior in any capacity is an offense to God. As the Apostle Paul writes, “May it never be!”

Mr. Currie—and anyone else—has the right to his opinions; I understand that. I also understand public criticism of those who stand for biblical fidelity is persistent and nothing new. What makes this most disheartening is that it comes from within our own tent. This was not a call for dialogue—it was a javelin thrown at anyone who disagrees. It is divisive, manipulative and unnecessary—and that truly makes this a sad day for Texas Baptists.

Cameron Strange, lead pastor

Impact Church, Schertz

RE: Lawmaker calls redistricting exodus an act of faith

Redrawing boundaries for the purpose of representative districts has been a contested affair for the history of our republic. This human affair is broken, as is every other human affair.

I am not ambivalent to the injustices political parties perpetrate against the opposing party, but the most alarming and terrifying thing in the article “Lawmaker calls redistricting exodus an act of faith” was the idolatrous prayer: “But we joined together hand in hand and said a prayer to the power of love and its ability to give us strength and peace and comfort as we embark on this journey on behalf of our constituents and the people of Texas.”

Do we see this statement for the idolatry it is? We are to worship God alone, the one true creator God. We are also to worship him rightly. The second commandment is not a repeat of the first. The second commandment warns us to worship God correctly and to not create some image or idea to represent him.

To pray to the “power of love” is blasphemy. Praying to the “power of love” to give strength to withstand criticism and opposition is no different than praying to Ba’al.

Brothers and sisters, we may have differing opinions about taxes, immigration, property rights and other matters, but we worship God alone and he demands that we do so rightly. The direst spiritual struggle I see represented in this article is praying to the idol of the “power of love.”

If my representation in congress is magnified or diluted, God is still the one to whom I pray and the one who redeemed my lost soul. This ambiguous “power of love” god may sound acceptable to the world but is an abomination to God.

Mathew St. John, pastor

First Baptist Church, Anson

RE: Sad for Texas Baptists

In response to David Currie’s Voices article, Sad for Texas Baptists, I disagree with the premise of his argument. The hermeneutical gymnastics undertaken by the generation of one’s great-grandfather to justify devaluing a people group to the point of making them property is not the same as refusing to do flips to appease the culture. The gymnasts in this ongoing culture war are those who are trying to convince us that the plain teaching of Scripture is anything but.

So, to Mr. Currie’s point, if the cost of widening the Texas Baptist tent comes at the expense of acceptance of a liberal theology so liberal that it balks at the established order set forth by our Creator. then it’s time to decide that the tent stakes move no further or admit the tent is not for revival but the circus and forget staking the tent down at all.

The Texas Baptist tent is either a tabernacle where we meet our One God in three persons who has made clear his perfect will on human sexuality and relationships, or we admit we want it to be large enough to fit three rings instead, and we call in the clowns.

Truth divides, and right truth divides rightly. I cannot perceive the hearts of men as Mr. Currie evidently can, but I know that for most of us, we don’t fear or hate the LGBTQ+ community. We love God, and so we love them enough to say that to enter into his tent, one must love him more than one’s sin.

To mix analogies, the gardener rips and keeps out weeds from the garden, not because of hatred of weeds, but out of love for the roses. We, too, must choose what grows or goes.

Nathan Feinberg, pastor

Adamsville Baptist Church, Lampasas

As I’ve read the back-and-forth about Baylor University turning down a grant from the Baugh Foundation regarding a study that desired to nudge churches to “courageously” embrace those who see LGBTQIA+ as a biblically allowable lifestyle, I have been mostly encouraged— encouraged about what the Baptist General Convention of Texas (BGCT) continues to stand for in our present culture.

All of our BGCT-affiliated and related universities state in their beliefs and policies that marriage and sexual intimacy are designed solely for the covenant marriage relationship of a man and a woman. The BGCT (Texas Baptists) itself considers any sexual relationship outside of this definition, including same-sex relationships and adultery, to be outside of God’s intended, biblical design. This stance is based on Scripture’s interpretation and application and has been affirmed through many resolutions and motions passed at the conventions and BGCT Executive Board meetings over several decades.

Looking at our goal

Back in 2016, a high estimation of Scripture was awakened in many pastors and leaders in the BGCT, and it caused a movement that desired to honor biblical sexual ethics no matter the culture’s redefining of them and the ever-growing acceptance of alternative lifestyles including LGBTQIA+.

David Currie’s opinion piece in the Baptist Standard Voices: Sad for Texas Baptists was well written by a good man with deep convictions. However, I submit that he missed a very obvious point, namely, that both sides of this particular argument say, “I’m right, you’re wrong. and if you don’t agree with me, you don’t believe the Bible.” And if conservatives and progressives are saying that same sentence regarding opposing views on sexual ethics and biblically permissible lifestyles, we have reached an impasse in cooperation.

But cooperation isn’t the highest goal. Fidelity to God’s word is! Freedom of personal conviction isn’t the noblest virtue. Adherence to God’s standard is! Historic Baptist principles cause us to cling tightly to God’s best, God’s order and God’s word, even with a swelling tide that says those are archaic, non-inclusive, and too small a tent.

An inward look at beliefs

You can add biblical sexual ethics to the list of blood atonement to satisfy God’s wrath, the flawless nature of God’s word, a literal hell, salvation through Christ’s cross alone and abortion that cause a no-man’s-land between conservatives and progressives. Both sides can and certainly should be kind to one another, love one another, pray for one another, and converse with one another. However, the six dividers above are not reconciliatory topics.

Currie proverbially shoots himself in the foot when he himself writes in his op-ed that the Baptist tent is not big enough for those leading in the Southern Baptist Convention, for those who believe a homosexual-affirming church is not in lock-step with the BGCT, for those who convictionally are complementarian in church leadership, and for those who believe sexual activity outside of a man and woman marriage is sin. I just described, I believe, the majority of Texas Baptists who hold several of those positions … and Currie just moved us out of his tent!

I applaud the BGCT in the conserving of their beliefs regarding biblical sexual ethics, and I applaud Baylor and President Linda Livingstone for making a difficult but good decision.

Certainty about sin is only error if wrong, but it’s biblical conviction if grounded in truth.

John Durham is the senior pastor of Highland Baptist Church, Waco, Texas. The views expressed in this opinion article are those of the author.

Closing my eyes, I can almost taste the chocolatey gooey crunch of s’mores, smell the smoky aroma of camp’s traditional first-night barbecue brisket, picture familiar faces, hear the lingering melody of “Pass It On” and feel God’s presence wrap around me like a fire’s embers.

Since my birth, camp has been part of my life. I wasn’t quite 1 year old when I joined the Paisano Baptist Encampment family. Since 1916 when my great-grandparents helped establish the cowboy camp meeting, my mother’s clan has gathered in that location where my great-grandfather prayed to receive Christ in 1899.

During the annual July week of outstanding preaching, in-depth Bible study and worshipful music, I live in a tiny rustic cabin built in 1923. Fortunately, my great-grandparents later added indoor plumbing. Spotty cell service and unstable Wi-Fi still allow folks to enjoy rest, reflection, recreation and conversation. Each summer offers a reunion of long-time friends and adds new ones.

Later, other camps became part of my DNA. At age 9, Girls Camp, known then as GA or Girls Auxiliary Camp, at Heart of Texas on Lake Brownwood gave me my first overnight-camp-away-from-family experience.

I’ll never forget the just-before-lights-out devotions and songs led by older girls. They also taught us how to short sheet our counselors’ beds, a skill I continue to pass on even though those godly “older” women sweetly exacted revenge by sewing the arms, necks and legs of our pj’s closed.

Memories of camp experiences

As a tween and teen, six weeks each summer at a private Christian girls camp on the Guadalupe River challenged and transformed me. The experience brought opportunities to learn new activities like trick-roping, archery, badminton and golf (though I wasn’t very good), explore crafts, develop leadership skills, enjoy healthy competition, foster teamwork, accept responsibility, plan campfire programs and write for the camp newspaper.

During college years, I counseled at the same camp, living with seven teens in a cabin, editing the camp newspaper and teaching archery.

Myriads of memories float through my mind as a camper, counselor, staffer, parent and volunteer—a college weekend at Lakeview Baptist Assembly, Texas Woman’s Missionary Union meetings and retreats at some of Texas Baptists’ 30 camps from Latham Springs and Camp Copass to Highland Lakes and Pineywoods to Timberline and Trinity Pines, Baylor Line Camp, picking up our daughter after Sondays Camp at Mt. Lebanon and Heart O’ the Hills and our sons final campfires at Camp Stewart.

Sure, there were glitches like the summer my husband accidentally left our daughter one afternoon at her older brothers’ camp closing and she got/had to spend rest hour with them. The camp directors assured us we weren’t the first and wouldn’t be the last parents to make that mistake. I’ve volunteered there each summer for the last 34 years, and it’s true.

God speaks through camp

What makes me love camp? To be perfectly clear, I’m not a fan of sleeping on the ground or in a tent without indoor plumbing or hot showers. Why do I think everyone should experience camp?

Where else do we find ourselves unencumbered by daily responsibilities? When otherwise can we relax over a meal we haven’t prepared and don’t have to clean up? How often can we take unhurried time contemplating the day’s devotion or Bible study and what it means for us? How frequently do we spend extended, uninterrupted moments with those we love?

God clearly orchestrated one of those life-changing experiences in 2001 through Paisano’s Bible study led by then-Baylor Religion Professor Randall O’Brien.

Admittedly, I wasn’t thrilled he chose to teach the book of Job. However, true to his reputation, he offered deep, new insights. Unfortunately, I had to leave early and missed the final session but procured the audio.

Later, on Sept. 9, driving back to Waco after attending my home church’s 100^th anniversary service, I listened to the fifth lesson and again to the first four. Two days later, on Sept. 11, 2001, I marveled at the heavenly father’s timing and preparation for me and the Paisano family for what lay ahead.

Camp’s lasting impact

My mother made her profession of faith at a Baptist camp as did my great-grandfather, one of our grandsons and several cousins. Many friends have committed themselves to ministry and missions there. Some have met their spouses at camp, strengthened through spiritual experiences and getting to know each other face-to-face without outside distractions. God nurtured and clarified my call and my calling on hallowed campgrounds.

But my family and I are not alone. Annually, several hundred thousand guests visit camps related to Texas Baptists and countless individuals and families attend other Christian camps.

Thousands will make first-time salvation decisions, publicly rededicate their lives or respond to God’s call for Christian service. I’m grateful for all those who make camp possible and provide opportunities for God to work in the lives of men and women, girls and boys.

This summer, my cousin Mary Kay told the story of a client who came to her workplace after the July 4 Guadalupe flood. He didn’t understand why anyone should send their children to camp or go themselves. With tears in her eyes, she looked at him and responded, “Camp changed my life.”

I can’t guarantee that a weekend, a week or several weeks at camp will change your life. But I can guarantee that if you’ll let time slow down, take a break from the devices of daily life, listen to God’s clear voice and fill your heart with him, you’ll leave that “thin place where heaven comes close to earth” refreshed, revived, refocused and ready for his work in you and your work in the world.

At Paisano’s final service, we hold hands across the tabernacle and sing “God Be with You Till We Meet Again” assured by the words “at Jesus’ feet.” Only God knows how many will be at Jesus’ feet because they met him at camp.

Kathy Hillman is chair of the Baptist Standard board, and a member of First Baptist Church, Waco. She is a former president of the BGCT and Woman’s Missionary Union of Texas, as well as a former vice president and recording secretary for Woman’s Missionary Union, SBC.

In January, I was in Dallas as part of the Texas Baptists Student Ministry state lead team. At this conference, we went to different prayer stations, and one was for the Pacific Northwest.

At this station, there were two jars. We were to take a rock from the first jar that represented a person in the Pacific Northwest who did not know Jesus. Once we were finished praying, we were to put the rock in the other jar, as a sign that God would save that person. Because I am a visual person, I gave my mental person a name, Amelia.

In July, I served with Go Now Missions on a beach in Alaska during the salmon run. While families fished, I had the chance to do crafts with kids and share Jesus with them. On the beach, I got to pray with 8-year-old Amelia to accept Christ as her personal Lord and Savior.

Now I realize that Alaska is not always considered part of the Pacific Northwest, but I thought that it was considered Pacific Northwest at the time. God is bigger than my ignorance, and Alaska is geographically Pacific Northwest.

Maggie Post, a senior at Houston Christian University, served with Go Now Missions in Alaska.

As I’ve read the back-and-forth about Baylor University turning down a grant from the Baugh Foundation regarding a study that involved the LGBTQ+ community, I have been mostly sad – sad about what the Baptist General Convention of Texas (BGCT) could have been.

The BGCT had an opportunity to be fully and truly Baptist, but fear robbed the convention of that opportunity.

It appears to me that most people, even some of our own board members, did not understand what Texas Baptists Committed was about: creating a convention that was truly Baptist – a big tent where fundamentalists, moderates, and even liberals could still cooperate in the mission of Christ.

Many thought TBC was about promoting moderate theology over fundamentalist theology. That was never true.

TBC was about defending Baptist principles and educating Baptists about them: “Four Fragile Freedoms,” as Buddy Shurden named them:

• The authority of scripture without creeds
• The priesthood of all believers
• Local church autonomy
• Religious liberty and the separation of church and state

This was the beginning and end of our mission—to keep Baptists Baptist. There was never a specific theological agenda. We did, however, have an agenda of preventing fundamentalists from controlling the convention or its committees because we knew they would shut everyone else out.

The BGCT never did that. During my 22 years as executive director of TBC, any committee I was involved in naming always included Baptists of all theological persuasions. We tried to be a big tent but not so big that fundamentalists could control the BGCT as they controlled the Southern Baptist Convention.

However, in 2016 fear gripped some of our pastors and leaders – fear that too much freedom was dangerous. As a result, the convention voted to disenfranchise some churches that had a welcoming and/or affirming view toward LGBTQ+ persons.

Keeping strong convictions and an open mind

Now this fear has claimed, with Baylor its tool, its latest victims: the Baugh Foundation grant and LGBTQ+ people who might have benefited from this study. It didn’t have to be this way. We could have stayed Baptist and kept a big tent.

I know people who consider homosexual behavior sinful and transgender transitions a perversion of God’s creation. They are people of deep convictions. Many are personal friends of mine and former supporters and even board members of TBC.

My purpose is not to argue with them about theology surrounding these matters. My purpose is to defend and promote Baptist principles and show them why the action they took in 2016 and Baylor’s recent action in rejecting the Baugh Foundation grant are violations of these treasured Baptist principles.

Take a look at the following two statements:

• “The New Testament is crystal clear that a woman cannot be a pastor.” – Paige Patterson on the day that he was inaugurated as president of Southwestern Seminary
• “We fully agree that any grant that advocates for perspectives on human sexuality that are counter to biblical sexual ethics should be declined or returned. Right decisions are usually easy; righteous decisions are usually costly.” – Letter signed by pastors in support of Baylor’s rejection of the Baugh Foundation grant

Sadly, both statements reflect the same mentality and biblical view which is “I’m right, you’re wrong and if you don’t agree with me you don’t believe the Bible.”

Most signers of the Baylor letter would not agree at all with Paige Patterson’s statement but sadly practice the same attitude when it comes to what they call “biblical sexual ethics.”

This destroys cooperation. Friends, it doesn’t have to be this way if we honor, respect, and follow historic Baptist principles.

Coming back to collaboration

As I’ve written before, I imagine my great-grandfather Robert Morrison Currie, who founded the First Baptist Church in LaVernia in 1857 after coming to Texas from Mississippi (and was the first moderator of the San Antonio Baptist Association) sincerely believed the New Testament was crystal clear that a white man could own a Black man.

But, as Paul wrote in 1 Corinthians 13:12, we all “see through a glass, darkly.” We are all influenced by many factors in our interpretation of scripture. Deeply held convictions are a wonderful thing unless they lead us to dogmatism and the sin of certainty. Then we exclude people who don’t agree with us and cooperation – and Christian fellowship – is destroyed.

Texas Baptists had a chance to be a big tent convention. I hope they will once again create a place for Baptists of all theological views to join and collaborate. After all, that is what the priesthood of all believers and local church autonomy are all about.

Freedom is the heart of being Baptist. Stop being afraid of it!

David R. Currie is the retired executive director of Texas Baptists Committed. He spends most of his time now with his sheep, goats, cattle, and grandkids. The views expressed in this opinion article are those of the author.

“Do you have citizenship classes here?” the young woman in the minivan asked. “I heard you do.”

It was early May during my church’s monthly food distribution ministry. The minivan looked like dozens of others that had come through the line I host there. The woman’s small children were riding in car seats in the back.

“As a matter of fact, we do,” I replied, “and I’m the teacher.”

But then I told her I was planning to restart the classes this fall, after the COVID pandemic interrupted us in 2020 and we never got back to it. I said we would have more information later in the summer and I would love for her to come.

“No,” she said. “I need the classes now. Can you help me now?”

As we talked, I learned she is from Venezuela, married, and with three children. Everything is in order. She has her permanent residence permit, known as a Green Card, meaning she is eligible for naturalization. Still, there was a strong sense of urgency to receive her citizenship.

When I told the church administrator about starting tutoring sessions for the young mother, she replied that we have a waiting list of people who have been calling the church recently inquiring about the citizenship classes. I had no idea.

The uptick in the citizenship business should come as no surprise, given a June 27 report in The Dallas Morning Newsciting the U.S. Census Bureau’s recent report that “immigration is driving U.S. population growth.” The News said “a historic rise in immigration, particularly among Hispanics and Asians has counteracted” population declines among other groups, especially whites. The report said Hispanic people accounted for 20% of the total population in 2024, and 26.9% of children. Is it any wonder citizenship classes are in growing demand?

Working toward citizenship

I started one-on-one tutoring for my Venezuelan friend a few weeks ago and she is doing great, answering the 100 civics questions most Americans would admit they don’t have a clue about. I’ve taught citizenship classes through my church for years and the best description I can give to the process is that old line about Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers. She did everything he did, only backwards and in heels.

My students learn about American history and government, doing it in a second language while managing communication with their families back home, the stress of building a new life apart from support structures and, sometimes, the threat of deportation if something goes wrong with a judge or an ICE agent. They know the citizenship text will only ask five or six of the possible 100 questions. And they know they must answer orally in front of a person wearing a uniform. Even the most prepared students admit extreme nervousness.

That nervousness extends beyond immigrants seeking citizenship naturalization. The recent aggressive posture leading to deportations, some of them violent, is causing consternation and anxiety among immigrant friends I know who have been naturalized citizens for years. Rumors abound that no one is safe now, not even long-term immigrants who did everything the right way  and gained citizenship. Those rumors and anxiety are quickly turning to fear for many of my friends.

Still, the best remedy is citizenship. While a Green Card provides strong protection for immigrants, nothing beats becoming a citizen.

Learning while helping others

There is an opportunity here, for immigrants and for people in churches and other nonprofits. The growing number of immigrants means a growing number of people looking to complete citizenship naturalization. It’s an opportunity to personally solve at least a small piece of the immigration puzzle and not wait for Congress to do something.

It’s also a good opportunity to remind yourself of some basic civics, history and government facts. How many amendments does the constitution have? What are two (out of three) rights in the Declaration of Independence? What does the president’s cabinet do? Those and 97 more.

Teach a citizenship class. Help with support services so an immigrant can take it. Look for ways to be part of the solution.

Editor’s Note: This article originally ran in The Dallas Morning News and is used by permission. Scott Collins retired as senior vice president at Buckner International. He is currently serving as interim editor of the Baptist Standard and is a member of The Crossing Baptist Church, Mesquite.

If I live to be 100, I will never forget holding the lifeless body of a 4-year-old in my arms.

It was during the second semester of my sophomore year in college. As a student, I worked mostly full-time as an orderly in the emergency room of a hospital.

I normally worked the 3 p.m. to 11 p.m. shift. On this night, I was working the 11 p.m. to 7 a.m. shift when around 2 a.m., a car drove into the portico of the hospital outside the emergency room. When no one came inside, I walked out to see if I could be of assistance.

Family members in the car handed me a child whose body appeared to be lifeless. I carried her into one of the treatment rooms and reached out to the nurse on duty. She asked me to telephone the on-call physician.

The child had ingested rat poisoning earlier in the evening. It was under the cabinet in her grandparents’ home. Sadly, there was nothing that could be done. The child was dead on arrival.

The grandfather asked to use the telephone and called the pastor of his church to come to the hospital.

I overheard the pastor providing counsel to the grieving family. He said simply: “We don’t understand this, but we have to accept that this as God’s will.”

The pain of ‘missing’

During the three years I worked at the hospital, I overheard “this is God’s will” being credited for tragedy after tragedy.

I was 19 when I held the lifeless body of the 4-year-old in my arms and I could not have disagreed more with the pastor. Fifty-nine years later, my posture remains unchanged.

I don’t believe the death of a child from rat poisoning was God’s will. There is a significant difference between God’s perfect will and his permissive will. God is not the author of the horror stories that plague our lives.

My heart has hurt for the families of those who did not survive the Hill Country floods of July 4 and for those families still missing loved ones is familiar to me

My twin brother was missing and unaccounted for 51 years after his plane went down in the Christmas bombing raids over North Vietnam in 1972.

I know first-hand the gut-wrenching kind of pain that “missing” promotes for families. My heart aches for who find themselves dealing with that kind of stress, anxiety and despair.

Recognizing God’s gift

In his book, Tracks of a Fellow Struggler, John Claypool shares his grief experience in the aftermath of his 10-year-old daughter’s death. She was diagnosed with leukemia at age 8. The disease subsequently went into remission, and his family and church thought it was an answer to prayer.

Sadly, the disease came back, and she died at age 10.

Claypool references an incident from his childhood. One of his dad’s employees was drafted into the military during World War II.

With the husband’s deployment, the family was leaving the area but planned to return when the war was over. Claypool’s dad offered for the family to store their furniture and possessions in the basement of his home.

When the truck came to deliver their belongings, Claypool’s dad noticed they had a Bendix washing machine. He asked his employee if he could use it. Gasoline and other amenities were being rationed, and Claypool’s father thought the washing machine would be helpful.

Claypool was a young boy at the time, and he was assigned responsibility for doing the family’s laundry.

Claypool was fascinated by the washer’s agitator and the suds it generated from the laundry detergent. He also experimented with the hand cranked wringer used to squeeze water out of clothes.

Three years later, he came home from school one day, gathered the laundry and made his way to the basement. The basement was empty, and the washing machine was gone. He thought the family had been robbed. He was furious and immediately went to notify his mother.

She explained that his father’s employee had been discharged from the military, and the family had collected their things that afternoon. His mother attempted to calm her son by reminding him how the washing machine came their way. It did not belong to them but was on loan. It was an unexpected gift that had come their way.

His mother explained: If you own something and it is taken from you, anger is an appropriate response. In this case, the family did not own the washing machine. Gratitude for the time it had been available was the only appropriate response.

When Claypool’s daughter died, that conversation with his mother came to mind. He recognized that his daughter had been a gift from God.

A focus on gratitude

Scripture states, “Every good and perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of the heavenly lights, who does not change like shifting shadows.” (James 1:17)

God is the ultimate source of all blessings, and he is unchanging in his goodness and generosity.

Claypool determined gratitude was the best way to deal with grief. Instead of anger and resentment over loss, he opted to be grateful for the time shared and for the tremendous difference his daughter had made in their lives.

It wasn’t a process that minimized the pain of grief overnight, but in the long haul, gratitude prevailed and he worked his way through the grief experience.

My brother has been on the other side of eternity for more than two-thirds of my life, yet I think of him often. Every thought of him is a trigger for gratitude. He enriched my life immensely.

When I think of him and all that we shared, I frequently hear the voice of Garth Brooks in his song “The Dance.”

“I’m glad I didn’t know – The way it all would end – The way it all would go – Our lives – Are better left to chance – I could have missed the pain – But I’d have had to miss – The dance.”

Don Forrester is executive director of the Coalition of Residential Excellence (CORE).  He previously served with Children At Heart Ministries and as bivocational pastor of Henly Baptist Church.

I love hymns. Yes, hymns. Those beautiful pieces of music full of melody, verse and theology.

Recently, I was at a church service at the senior citizen center where I live. We were using a 1991 Baptist Hymnal.

We sang hymn after hymn a cappella.  And we did not need the hymnal except for the third verse. Did Baptists ever sing the third verse of any hymn except “Just As I Am?”

As we sang, coming there from different churches, we bonded together as fellow Christians. How many memories “flooded my soul?”

In a world filled with so much noise, what a blessing it is to sing these great hymns of our faith and really listen to the words.

Reviving hymnal interest

As a child I remember singing “Come Thou Fount of Every Blessing.” The second verse talks about raising my Ebenezer. What in the world is that?  Fortunately, the scriptures tell me (1 Samuel 7:12).

“Blessed Be the Name” is right out of Philippians 2:9. “Love Divine All Loves Excelling” is based on 1 John 4:16. Over and over, we find theology in these hymns coming right out of God’s word.

What can we do to revive interest in these great musical testimonies? How can we be sure the scores of great hymns are not lost on upcoming generations?

I would suggest having at least one hymn at every worship service. Worship leaders might be surprised to see smiles on the faces of those 60 and above.  Are we trying to convince young people? Of course. Are we trying to inspire older people? I hope so.

Training in hymns

Baptists always have been singing people. Many of us grew up singing in graded children’s choirs. Then youth choirs. Sometimes youth mission choirs.

Where is the training ground for adult choirs today? Do we have adult choirs who sing the great hymns of faith? I remember when adult choir specials would try to match the sermon topic for the day. Music helps us to remember.

Hymns are about Jesus, from “Away in a Manger” to “He Leadeth Me,” from “Faith Is the Victory” to “I Love to Tell the Story,” from “Footsteps of Jesus” to “ Higher Ground,” and of course, “When We All Get to Heaven.”

These hymns and hundreds of others tell the story of our salvation. I love hymns.

Patsy Williams Davis is a charter member of Park Cities Baptist Church in Dallas, where she “memorized the pages numbers” of the hymns in the Baptist Hymnal.

The Fourth of July flooding in the Texas Hill Country is an ongoing, unimaginable heartbreak. So far, 137 deaths have been reported. At least 27 children and counselors from Camp Mystic, a Christian camp, were among those who died.

It’s hard for us to make sense of tragedies like this. Disasters cause us to seek answers to some of life’s most difficult and perplexing questions.

Where was God when those flood waters rose? Could he not have prevented this from happening?  Why did so many people have to perish?

As Christians, how do we explain this tragedy? Why did it happen? Why did God allow it to happen? If God is all-powerful, doesn’t he have the power to prevent natural disasters like this? If God is all-loving, where was his love for those who perished?

The question of suffering

We love to sing, “Jesus loves the little children, all the children of the world.” That’s a hard lyric to reconcile with little children who die horrific deaths.

We love to sing, “God is so good, he’s so good to me.” If God is so good, where can goodness possibly be found in a catastrophic, deadly flood? It all seems so senseless. How can we make sense of the seemingly senseless?

The tragic consequences of the Texas Hill Country floods compel us to face an age-old question: Why is there evil and suffering in the world?

It’s a question as old as what many scholars believe to be the oldest book in the Bible, Job. Philosophically and theologically speaking, it’s the question known as theodicy.

Theodicy comes from two Greek words, theos-meaning God, and dike- meaning justice or justify. In simple terms, theodicy is the human attempt to explain or justify how or why an all-good, all-powerful, all-loving and all-knowing God could or would allow evil and suffering in the world.

For centuries philosophers and theologians have grappled with the question of evil and suffering, attempting to formulate logical or rational theodicean answers.

Some would argue that theodicy is the greatest threat to Christianity today. After all, isn’t this one of the first questions skeptics ask?

“What’s the deal with this God of you Christians? He sure doesn’t seem to be very good, powerful, or loving. Innocent men, women, and children dying in a flood? Are we really expected to believe in a God like that?”

Honestly speaking, theodicy might be the most difficult question for Christians to answer. Why is there evil and suffering in the world? Why so much?

Maybe the best answer for us is, “We simply don’t know why.” As much as we might wish there were, perhaps there aren’t nice, neat, tidy, easy, simplistic, logical or rational answers to most of the questions of evil and suffering.

As good as all the theories of theodicy may be, remember that theodicy is the human attempt to answer questions that are essentially beyond human ability to fully understand or satisfactorily answer.

Paracletic theodicy

As God reminds us in Isaiah 55:8: “For my thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways my ways. As the heavens are higher than the earth, so are my ways higher than your ways and my thoughts than your thoughts.”

Perhaps questions about evil and suffering are best left with God. As much as we wish we could, we will never fully understand all the ways and works of an all-good, all-powerful, all-loving and all-knowing God, especially in the fallen world in which we live.

Perhaps there’s another theodicean answer to the problem of evil and suffering to consider. It’s what I call a “paracletic theodicy.”

Paracletic is the adjective form of the Greek word parakletos (or the anglicized form, paraklete). The Greek word literally means “one called to one’s side or called to help.”

In the Gospel of John, Jesus uses the word five times in his farewell address (John 13-16) to describe the Holy Spirit’s approaching ministry to his disciples. And parakletos is certainly a fitting word for the Holy Spirit himself as the word is often translated as helper, comforter, counselor, intercessor or advocate.

In a Greek legal context, a parakletos (an advocate) was someone who would plead a case before a judge on another’s behalf.

In connecting the term to the idea of theodicy and the problem of evil and suffering, I see two relevant applications we might make in response to the Hill Country floods. This would be a paracletic theodicy.

Pray and keep on praying

What can we do when a tragedy hits? We can certainly start with prayer. And this is where the Holy Spirit’s ministry as helper, comforter, counselor and intercessor comes into play.

We can pray that the Holy Spirit will come along side of (parakletos) those with hurting and broken hearts. We can pray in the words of Romans 8:26: “The Spirit helps us in our weakness. We do not know what we ought to pray for, but the Spirit himself intercedes for us through wordless groans.”

That’s a paracletic kind of Holy Spirit intercession. What can we do for the hopeless and hurting? We can pray and keep on praying for the families of lost loved ones and those who have lost homes, campsites, and businesses.

We can pray and keep on praying for the Holy Spirit, to keep doing his work of coming alongside of and counseling and interceding for desperate people who are now in desperate need of his comforting ministry more than ever.

We can pray and keep on praying for the parakletos to do his advocating work of “pleading their case before the righteous judge.”

We can also paraclecticly put “some feet to our prayers” by giving to one of the many excellent flood relief organizations. My Sunday school class at Park Cities Baptist Church in Dallas recently donated $3,000 to Texans on Mission, who are boots on the ground, bringing the hope of Jesus and practical help to flood survivors.

In doing so, Texans on Mission is being parakletos. In doing so, a Sunday school class is being parakletos, becoming a part of a paracletic answer to theodicy.

A response to tragedy

What about you? What can we do when a tragedy hits? We can become parakletos ourselves. We can draw alongside of the hurting and broken hearted. We can offer them our comfort along with our intercessions.

We can paracleticly counsel them if the occasion arises, but only with great care in how we do it. When people are hurting, it’s not our human attempts at eloquent, rational or logical wording that becomes most meaningful or helpful.

Our human attempts at easy answers to life’s difficult questions are rarely satisfying and can often come across as inappropriate or even hurtful. Perhaps what hurting people need the most is not our ministry of words but simply our ministry of presence, just drawing alongside of them to offer practical help and meaningful hope.

We will never get completely satisfactory answers to the question of evil and suffering, at least not in this lifetime. All theories of theodicy, including mine, are essentially inadequate in the end because they are just that, human theories about divine mysteries.

Perhaps the ultimate question to ask in times of disaster and tragedy is not why? Perhaps the better question to ask is what. What will we do for suffering survivors?

As Texas Baptists, let’s answer that question by becoming parakletos ourselves in some form or fashion. Let’s be a part of a paracletic answer to theodicy.

Jim Lemons is director of the Master of Arts in Theological Studies program and Professor of Theological Studies in The Graduate School of Ministry at Dallas Baptist University. See a related Voices article here.