When I throw a party, I get to determine the guest list. When I attend a party someone else is hosting, I have little say in the matter.

Even if the host invites me to help with the dinner, I would be stepping beyond my responsibilities if I began culling the guest list according to my own preferences. The host rightly would be furious if I let people in who were not invited. He also would be justifiably angry if I refused to admit those who were on the list.

Which of those would be the worst offense? Baptists have come up with different answers. Those advocating for closed communion appear to believe the greatest offense when serving the Lord’s Supper would be accidentally to admit some to the table who God excludes.

Their main argument comes from Paul’s discussion of the Lord’s Supper in his first epistle to the Corinthians.

Paul on the Lord’s Supper

Paul challenges every believer to examine oneself before observing the Lord’s Supper (11:28). Those who fail to do so, and fail to discern the body of Christ, “eat and drink judgment on themselves.” (11:29).

The argument is made that any who participate in the meal with unconfessed sin bring judgment upon themselves and perhaps upon the entire congregation. Churches, therefore, should carefully fence the table against the unrepentant lest judgment fall heavily upon Christ’s church.

This necessitates, in their view, a prohibition against any unrepentant believers and all unbelievers. For many churches, this takes the form of prohibiting anyone not baptized by immersion from participating, with a few churches going so far as to limit participation to their own church membership.

Clearly, Paul’s warning is a serious one. All the more reason to make sure we understand his argument.

A closer look at Corinth

A close reading of the text reveals the issue in the Corinthian church was not one of permitting unqualified people to participate in the meal. Instead, it involved the opposite offense. Some in the Corinthian church were rushing ahead with the meal before the entire church could gather to eat (see 11:21).

More specifically, the wealthy feasted, while the poor went hungry, mirroring the social inequalities of their day. Paul sharply criticized this behavior, emphasizing the Lord’s Supper was not a private dinner party, but is a communal meal meant to reflect Christ’s selfless love. If they gathered and ate before everyone arrived, the meal they ate could not be considered the Lord’s Supper (see 11:11).

Paul’s warning against eating in an “unworthy manner” had to do with the way in which the church was excluding certain members from participation in the Lord’s Supper, not with any unconfessed sin of an individual believer. How ironic that these very words have been used to exclude believers from table fellowship.

Jesus’ example

This does not mean we should come carelessly to the table. Properly remembering Christ’s sacrifice for our sins always should call us to thoughtful times of reflection, confession and repentance.

But to use the table as an opportunity to exclude someone Christ intends to include is to take the meal in an unworthy manner—the very thing Paul warns against.

My approach is also influenced by Jesus’ own example. Our Lord constantly irritated the religious gatekeepers of his day by the table company he kept. Paul, likewise, seemed continually to provoke his adversaries by arguing rich and poor, Jew and Gentile, slaves and free all could sit down at the same table, thanks to Jesus.

Who should be excluded

An honest reading of the biblical text reveals we are not given specific instructions about where the limits of this inclusion should be in regard to the Lord’s table. Is there someone who should not be allowed to participate in the Lord’s Supper?

There are verses in the New Testament that speak to the exclusion of believers who are actively sinning in significant ways. But these seem to be extreme cases where inclusion of a particular person would bring great shame upon the congregation, because their sins were obvious even to outsiders (see 1 Corinthians 5:1-13).

Where I fall

When I reflect on Jesus’ table practice and Paul’s teaching, I find myself wanting to err on the side of inclusion when it comes to the Lord’s Supper.

I am reminded there are plenty of people who would exclude me from Christ’s table if they could—people who think I am incorrect on some point of doctrine or another. I’m grateful they ultimately are not in charge of the guest list. Of course, neither am I.

When it comes down to it, I think I would rather dine with someone I wasn’t supposed to than to exclude someone Jesus intends to include.

A proper reading of 1 Corinthians 11 helps us understand the one instance Paul criticized was an instance of improper exclusion, not improper inclusion. This is why I have chosen not to heavily fence participation in the Lord’s Supper, but instead, to invite all those who have professed their faith in Christ, or would like to in this moment, to come and have a seat at the table of the Lord.

Taylor Sandlin is the senior pastor of Sugar Land Baptist Church in Sugar Land. The views expressed in this opinion article are those of the author. A contrasting view can be read here.

For many years, the Baptist faith has allowed true believers professing their faith in Jesus to become members of a Baptist church and to be qualified to participate in the Lord’s Supper only after they are baptized by immersion in water. This follows Jesus’ commandment to be baptized and to identify with him.

This also follows the example in the Holy Bible of believers who were baptized immediately by immersion in water after their profession of faith in Jesus, being identified with Jesus as they are buried with him by baptism unto death and, like Jesus, are raised from the dead to walk in newness of life.

Following the Baptist faith, only those who have been baptized by immersion in water should be invited to participate in the Lord’s Supper.

At the present time, there are some churches in the Southern Baptist Convention—some of which are large churches—that do not abide by the Baptist belief regarding baptism by immersion in water being required before a person can be invited to the Lord’s Supper.

These churches practice what some call “open communion,” since they invite anyone who says they have made a profession of faith or claims to be a believer in Christ, without mentioning to them the need to be a church member or having been baptized by immersion in water. This is an important part of the Baptist faith.

Open communion

Open communion allows those who have not been baptized properly as Jesus commanded and those who do not have a saving faith to participate in the Lord’s Supper with true believers who have a relationship with Jesus and know him, because they have obeyed Jesus’command of baptism by immersion in water, which identifies them with him.

It is the responsibility of the church to invite to the Lord’s Supper only those who have been baptized by immersion in water, explaining who may participate.

Mode of baptism

There are some who believe they can substitute sprinkling or pouring in the place of immersion in water and call it baptism. If sprinkling and pouring are substituted for immersion in water, it would appear changes to the Scriptures are being made for these modes to be added, which is not allowed.

The Holy Bible, God’s word, is final, and changes to it are prohibited. Immersion in water—believers’ baptism—is the only method authorized in the Bible and cannot be changed. Sprinkling or pouring, by definition, are not the baptism commanded by Jesus.

Those who have been sprinkled or poured should not be invited to the Lord’s Supper in a Baptist church. Only those who have been immersed in water obeying Jesus’ commandment to be baptized are eligible to participate in the Lord’s Supper in a Baptist church.

It is also the responsibility of the church to explain the responsibility of the individual to determine if they are worthy.

Baptism in relation to Lord’s Supper

We see in 1 Corinthians 11:27-31 that a person must examine themselves to see if they are worthy to participate in the Lord’s Supper. The passage states if a person participates in the Lord’s Supper when they are not worthy, there may be unwanted consequences.

Not obeying the command of Jesus to be baptized, which is stated in the Bible only as immersion, appears to make them unworthy when reviewing verses like 1 John 2:3-4, which says we do not know Jesus if we do not keep his commandments.

The churches may have open communion to promote unity, for financial reasons, being influenced by those coming from other churches with different beliefs or some other reason. One Baptist church has added an associate membership to include those who cannot qualify for full membership.

A call for correction

It is difficult to believe the leaders of a Southern Baptist church do not abide by the Baptist faith regarding baptism by immersion in water as a requirement for participation in the Lord’s Supper, since the Baptist belief is supported by example in the Holy Bible.

Inviting or allowing those who were sprinkled or poured could give the impression the Baptist church and the person giving the invitation believes their belief is acceptable, and that it is OK to add these modes to change Scripture.

Only those who have demonstrated their obedience to Jesus, identifying with him by baptism by immersion in water, as shown in the Bible, should be invited to the Lord’s Supper in a Baptist church.

Hopefully, the leaders of these churches with open communion will return to the belief of Baptists, realizing this is necessary so they can properly honor our Lord as we remember what he has done for us.

John H. Trow Jr. is a member of First Baptist Church in Houston. The views expressed in this opinion article are those of the author. A contrasting view can be read here.

How was your Christmas? For that matter, how was your birthday? I pray both were good and the next ones are even better.

For a young girl my wife teaches at Cypress Christian High School, sandwiched between the two was a very scary event.

On Dec. 23, Kelsey turned 18 years old. She is a phenomenal student, making all As—mostly 100s—on her work. She is a faithful Christian young lady, serving the Lord as best she can. She is very respectful to her teachers, a good friend to her fellow students. Her life’s altitude has no limit. Her parents love the Lord, which means they are able to love her in the best way a person can.

Dec. 23 was an amazing birthday.

A turn of events

On Dec. 24, Kelsey had a routine visit with her local optometrist, Dr. Moore. She wears glasses, perhaps from all her reading. Lately, she felt she might need a stronger prescription for her glasses.

She noticed some vision problems, especially in her periphery. She was driving her car to school the other day and almost sideswiped a car to her left. She felt the driver came out of nowhere. And no, Kelsey was not texting while she drove.

When she and her mom showed up for their eye exam, their regular doctor was on vacation. A Dr. Strong would be filling in. Kelsey and her mom didn’t mind. They just wanted to get the new prescription and head home to get ready for their family Christmas the next day.

Dr. Strong conducted the eye exam. Kelsey’s vision had not changed. She would not need a new prescription. The doctor then asked Kelsey, what made her think she needed to change.

Kelsey told the doctor about her near wreck. She also ran into the wall at their home. Her mom wrote it off as a clumsy teen too preoccupied with high school life. It was then Dr. Strong’s facial expression took on a serious look. She told the two they needed to go to the emergency room immediately.

Kelsey and her mom were shocked. Dr. Strong said she feared there might be a brain tumor. The mom and daughter left immediately. On the way, they called the family to join them and asked for prayer.

At the emergency room, Kelsey was examined and then sent to Texas Children’s Hospital for an MRI. It was there a tumor was found on her pituitary gland with a huge cyst emanating from it. Two brain surgeries were scheduled.

Dec. 23 was Kelsey’s birthday. Dec. 25 was Christmas. In between—Dec. 24—Kelsey’s life changed.

Prayer and grace

My wife, Lori, was called by Kelsey’s mom for prayer. Lori is close to all her students. She prays for them morning and night. She prays with them during the school day. Each one is precious.

Lori was devastated when she heard the news. The next morning, on Christmas morning, Lori and I made the trip to Texas Children’s Hospital in the Houston Medical Center. As we entered Kelsey’s room, Lori ran to her bedside to give the young 18-year-old student a hug.

They both began to weep, as did Kelsey’s parents. I must have gotten something in my eye at that exact moment, as my eyes watered trying to wash out whatever irritant had gotten into them.

Kelsey and her parents shared with Lori and me God’s goodness and grace. One, that God would let Kelsey celebrate her birthday without a worry. Two, that God would have Dr. Strong do the examination and not their regular doctor, for it seemed Dr. Strong was more in tune with such conditions.

Three, that God would get Kelsey in at Texas Children’s Hospital so quickly, and that before Christmas, she not just would be diagnosed, but have the surgeries scheduled to remove the tumor and cyst.

Four, that God would let the tumor be detected before it did any permanent damage to Kelsey’s optic nerve and vision. Five, that it appeared the tumor was not malignant, that surgery would permanently repair the damage, giving Kelsey a full, unaltered life.

On Dec. 25, with Kelsey and her family in the room, Lori asked me to pray.

Knowing love

I remembered one of the most memorable Christmases of my life. When I was around 10 years old, Mom’s whole family—my grandparents, my aunts, uncles and cousins—gathered at our home for our family Christmas. I did not get to participate. I was bed-stricken with pneumonia.

I heard my cousins playing. I heard the laughter of the adults. I listened to the Christmas music being played. Everyone popped into my room to leave me my gifts, but I was too sick to open them.

I spent the whole evening sick, separated and loved. Some 50 years later, this holds out as one of my all-time favorite Christmases.

I pray Kelsey will look back on this last Christmas to see God is good, she is loved, and she will have a wonderful life in the years ahead, in Jesus’ mighty name we pray.

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

It’s seasonal for most of us, of course. Our memories kick into overdrive, dredging up details of long-ago holidays.

In my case, Christmas Days of yore were as predictable as the sunrise. After “Santa gifts” were opened, we’d scurry across the county to Granny’s house—Pawpaw’s, too—for lunch and more gift openings with our extended family.

There, we’d typically exchange simple items, such as socks, hankies, neckties and cheap perfume. We all thought the “tree” fashioned from a mesquite tree limb, adorned with strings of popcorn and construction paper ornaments was plenty good. Most memorable, though, was a menu side dish, thoughts of which today cause immediate salivation.

Grandmother Newbury had a way with fried pies—peach, apricot, mincemeat and apple—cooked on a wood stove during my early years. Never have I tasted their equal, and the aroma wafting from the kitchen around 11 a.m. beckoned us to move closer, if only to get “stronger sniffs.”

As these words are typed, a miniature flood is forming ’tween my teeth and tonsils.

Turn your radio on

Back then, radio provided home entertainment. On cold winter evenings, we’d gather around to listen while scarfing down frozen radio dinners.

Commercials were simple and easily memorized. Buster Brown Shoes, for example, opened its weekly shows with a youngster saying: “My name’s Buster Brown. I live in a shoe. That’s my dog, Tige. He lives in there, too.”

Shredded Ralston Cereal sponsored cowboy Tom Mix, urging listeners to “take a tip from Tom. Go and tell your mom, ‘Shredded Ralston can’t be beat.’”

TV didn’t show up until the mid-1950s, with most ads still simple, but often more instructive.

One keenly remembered was an instant hit, particularly during the holidays. Alka-Seltzer came up with, “I can’t believe I ate the whole thing.” Heeding such advice was—and still is—helpful.

Selling a feeling

Many current TV ads induce groans and make my hair hurt. They insult, demean and offend, often defying the limits of innuendo. A few are, uh, stupid, even if clever and smile-inducing.

I’ll point out a couple—Charmin and General Motors. The former features happy bears who “enjoy the go,” dipping their toes into questionable dialog swirling in the tricky waters of bathroom humor.

For the third straight year, we’ve endured the snowy scene with dialog beginning, “I have a gift for you,” followed by, “I have a gift for you, too.” The handsome guy hands a puppy to a beautiful girl, whose whistle signals the arrival of a shiny new GM pick-up truck from atop a snow-capped hill.

He is in awe, collapsing with a lingering kiss on the front fender. In weather like this, maybe they had a tea kettle of hot water nearby to loosen his tongue frozen to the metal.

Some men might know which breed of puppy to select for their true loves, but I doubt it.

Further, I can’t imagine a woman with enough courage to purchase the “right” pick-up truck her guy’d give a “fender-kiss.” Don’t tell me this is “real life America” for Christmas gifting.

Not in my house

The foregoing may add evidence to my being both old and eccentric. I admit to eccentricity decades before bales of AARP materials choked my mailbox.

Odds are, I’ll remain resolute on some ads, perhaps as “dead certain” as Todd Still’s late mother-in-law. Late in life, she posed a serious question to Still, dean of Baylor University’s George W. Truett Theological Seminary.

“Did Jesus, in fact, drink real wine?” she asked.

Without hesitation, Still said it was likely Jesus did.

“He wouldn’t in my house,” she countered.

Closing seriously, may God’s peace and grace abide with you and those you love. May you live with the undergirding assurance that the same God who has intervened in the affairs of humankind throughout history is still in charge. And may you and yours enjoy good health, good fortune and much happiness in 2025.

Don Newbury, retired president of Howard Payne University, writes weekly and speaks regularly. This article is adapted from his regular column, ‘The Idle American.’ Newbury can be contacted via email: newbury@speakerdoc.com; phone: (817) 447-3872; Twitter: @donnewbury and Facebook: Don Newbury. The views expressed are those solely of the author. Published by permission.

One year ago, I was sitting in a conference room with the Wayland Baptist University presidential search committee in Amarillo. What a fantastic ride 2024 was. I am anxious to see what God has in store for Wayland in 2025. WBU is a special place.

The fact that I am the 14th president of Wayland seems surreal at times. As with so many other times in my life, God always shows me his ways are better than mine. I marvel at how God’s grace and guidance in my life have led me to places beyond my wildest dreams. To God be the glory!

Getting to this point in my life did not happen magically, nor was it easy. As the daughter of parents from far western Kentucky, I was “raised right.” This meant my parents expected me to listen, show respect, do my part, go to church, make good grades, stay out of trouble, choose a good friend group, go to college and so on.

Early learning

I was introduced to Jesus by my parents and through my church from day one. Having made a profession of faith at age 10, I learned at an early age true joy comes from my relationship with Christ.

Mom, dad, my sister and I did not have a lot of material things. I guess you could say we were socioeconomically challenged, but the beauty was I didn’t really know it. We did not have what you would call a nice house, but I thought it was perfect. We took pride in what we had.

I witnessed my mom and dad work so hard to make ends meet, something I carry with me to this day. Part of the constant dialogue in my head comes from my dad saying, “Be tough!” At the time, it annoyed me. But looking back, I see how he was setting me up for my future in higher education leadership.

I squashed his dream of having a son. So, that is probably why he hauled me around with him everywhere and taught me how to have conversations with adults—a skill I find useful today.

Early models

I have no pedigree from the world’s standard. But I had wonderful, loving Christian parents.

Dad wanted me to fly, to have dreams and pursue them. He often told me not to “settle”—whether with a career choice or a relationship—and he always was honest with me about my choices.

Dad went home to be with Jesus when I was 35. His last few years on earth were a testament to his faith and passion for Jesus. As a certified “daddy’s girl,” it was hard losing him, but I carry him with me and cherish our memories. He continues to give me reassurance that with God, all things are possible. How I miss him.

I mention my dad’s influence often. My dad worked at the Goodyear Tire factory for 35 years in west Tennessee. He retired with perfect attendance—never using a sick day.

Mom worked in the elementary school cafeteria for most of my years in school but later passed her GED and moved into a paraprofessional position.

My mom is still healthy and serving Christ today in her daily walk. She is the prayer warrior of our family, steadfast and strong. I am a strong woman today because a strong woman raised me.

Going to college

Even with such support at home, I could not wait to leave my hometown. I was different in that I wanted my independence away from my parents and all things familiar. I yearned to experience new things and meet new people. I quickly discovered the only way someone like me would get that chance was to go to college.

Neither of my parents went to college, although I realize more and more how incredibly intelligent they were. I remember when my parents drove me to a small Christian college in central Kentucky, helped me unpack, then made the five-hour trip back to my small hometown.

No car, no big checking account. No friends, no one familiar. I still look back on that day as one of the toughest days of my concluding childhood. I really was scared, but I was that kid who wasn’t afraid to ask questions. So, I managed to get a class schedule, buy my books and find the dining hall. I guess you could say the rest is history.

Flying at Wayland

I went on to enjoy a successful teaching career working with middle and high school students, then moved to higher education.

The past 25 years of my life have been crazy, wonderful and unexpected.

I count my husband Pete as my prized partner in life and ministry. We are blessed with a beautifully flawed and amazing family, as well as a tremendous support network of colleagues and friends. My life verse is Jeremiah 33:3, where God reminds us to “call unto me, and I will answer you and show great and unsearchable things that you do not know.”

God allowed me to move into the role of president at a Baptist university in west Texas. Now, that was not what I expected to be my path when I left that small town in western Kentucky many years ago.

Even when I felt like a failure, ashamed of my missteps, God had a plan. And who am I to underestimate God’s plan and power? I continue to ask and claim God’s power in my life, because his ways are better than my own. Even at this stage of my life and career, God is not finished with me yet.

Donna Hedgepath is president of Wayland Baptist University. She previously was provost and vice president of academic affairs at Campbellsville University in Kentucky.

Advent directs the church’s attention to the prophets, those servants of God who taught Israel to anticipate the Messiah and who shaped how Jesus conceptualized his messianic ministry.

More specifically, Christians often turn to Isaiah 40-55, noting how the suffering servant is key to God’s plan to redeem his servant Israel.

But as I have reflected upon—and struggled with—Isaiah 54 over the past few weeks, my reactions have been less about hope, joy, peace and love. Rather, I have found myself mired in the minor chords of Advent, a musical score too often neglected, but that I have found necessary to my continued growth as a disciple of Jesus.

Humility

Like other oracles in this collection, Isaiah 54 posits a grand future for Jerusalem and its people. The promises of God are so remarkable, they cannot help but evoke difficult questions in the heart of the sensitive, historically aware reader.

• Is the God of Judaism and Christianity nothing more than a mirage?

Israel has shown remarkable—perhaps even miraculous—resilience as a nation, but it never has experienced the golden age described in the prophets. Moreover, the nation has experienced hardships that seem to be precluded by the predictions of texts like Isaiah 54. Have God’s words failed?

• Was Jesus’ understanding of the Messiah’s ministry wrong? Is that why some of the prophecies of Isaiah 40-55 seem so incongruous with what actually has taken place over the last two millennia?

Clearly, we cannot ignore Isaiah 53’s portrayal of a suffering servant who brings redemption, but can we privilege this rendition of the Messiah’s work over others that seem to present him as a conquering warrior who works within the present historical and political realm to create a kingdom that will attract “the nations” to Judaism and its Torah?

• Or are the dispensationalists right?

N.T. Wright is just one of many New Testament theologians who argue—persuasively—the prophecies of Scripture are fulfilled in Christ alone. But what if this reading is really a gross violation of how the prophets expressed themselves?

There are answers, of course, to these questions, ones scholars have labored for generations to construct, refine and defend.

But when we are confronted with the evidence afresh, when we ourselves must wrestle with God’s message to his people, we cannot be surprised when others—atheists, orthodox Jews, dispensationalist Christians—find our explanations less than satisfactory.

And this is not all bad, for it inculcates in us a humility that paves the way for love and leaves open the possibility of unity within the body of Christ.

Lament

Our awareness of human history, when placed alongside the hopeful visions articulated in Isaiah 54 and elsewhere, also should motivate us to lament.

The sad and sordid tale that is the human experience often is summed up in how “the nations” have treated ethnic and religious Israel. When we see the mistreatment heaped upon this group of people throughout the past 2,500 years, we see a reflection of both our own suffering and our own inhumanity.

This terrible history is why Christ had to come into our world. It is why he had to suffer the deprivations that so often characterize our experience. It is why he had to die a death he did not deserve. The fact he loves us—and loves Israel—enough to make that sacrifice is worthy of celebration, but the need for it is worthy of lament.

Moreover, I lament the fact no one ever has experienced the blessed material, social and emotional existence described in these prophetic expressions of hope. My soul yearns to know there is some group of people somewhere who have lived for generations on end saturated by the blessings of this life and protected from its griefs.

Even if I cannot live that experience myself, it would comfort my aching heart that someone else had. It would strengthen my faith to see a monument to God’s faithfulness in a city drenched in pearls and overflowing with happy, healthy children—even if that city were not my own.

The fact that even the wealthiest nations on earth teeter on the brink of historical irrelevance, and that the nation to whom these words were spoken has faced attempted eradication on numerous occasions, breaks my heart.

It forces me to place my own, private grief in a much larger and more disheartening context. It draws out of me that biblical art so often ignored in our happy-go-lucky, cookie-cutter churches—the art of memorializing the human experiences of suffering, confusion, frustration and loss.

Desperation

But lament is not enough.

Reading the promises of God in Isaiah 54 pierces my heart with a desperate longing to see those promises come true.

It isn’t just about wanting to see the evidence supporting my faith. It isn’t just about wanting to be able to draw a discernable line from the words of Scripture to the events of history.

It also is about the practical consequences of God’s vision coming true for individuals, families and communities who suffer. It is about seeing the old made young again. It is about seeing the disabled soldier prance on renewed legs. For me, it is about seeing.

The fulfillment of these promises would improve not just the quality of life of this or that person. It would justify their faith in a God who loves his people and keeps his word.

It would vindicate those who needlessly suffer, whether in the gas chambers of a concentration camp or under the thumb of some sex-trafficking degenerate. It would signal the restoration of a moral order that is the prerequisite of lasting peace, an order that guarantees a future without sin and death.

Advent calls us to look back on what God already has done, but it also calls us to look forward. It calls us into the desperate struggle to see God’s kingdom consummated on earth (Matthew 6:10) and God’s creation comforted by the perfect discharge of God’s will (Romans 8:19-22).

We feel this desperation every day (Romans 8:23-25), but Advent gives our desperation room to breathe. It surfaces the longings we so often suppress just so we can get through the day. In so doing, Advent turns our attention once again to the God who can satisfy those longings.

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

People hurt us. That is a simple fact of life.

A beloved child may reject his parents and their faith. Churches may not appreciate us and not want us around anymore. A boss might fire us. Siblings might drop out of the family and seek new loved ones for holidays. Friends choose different friends for fun activities.

We are left wondering where the ones we invested our lives in went.

I do not know what will help in all circumstances, but a few things have worked for me through many years of prayer and emotional and spiritual struggle as I dealt with complex interpersonal conflict. I offer these for your consideration.

Things that helped me

Accept your pain and live with it a while, if you are dealing with a long-term situation. Whenever we cannot solve a problem immediately, accepting it and not fighting it reduces stress.

Try not to obsess about the situation. This is a tough one, because thoughts cannot be controlled totally. Continue to lift the situation and loved ones to God—no matter how long this takes.

Visualize yourself letting go of what happens. “See” in your mind your hands letting go of the burden, and let yourself see the problem and person float toward the Lord. This is one skill that has released pain in my heart and given me freedom.

If you continue to see the person who hurt you, try to emphasize and build on any positive interactions. Show appreciation for any kindness or courtesies. Frequently, we make the negative a mountain and the positive a molehill, when the opposite should happen.

Consider the person’s brain chemistry and past experiences. Everything we do arises from thinking, and all thoughts track back to brain health. Each person works with what he or she has physiologically and emotionally. We are not all equal in terms of the body and mind.

Look back into the family of the person who hurt you, if you can. Who modeled behavior for this person? Who raised this person, and did abuse or trauma occur in that family?

Often, mental illness and suicide are hidden in families—even in our own. The effects of unspeakable “secrets” still touch family members more deeply than we can imagine.

Many people behave rudely, never conveying to others how they came to be the way they are. They may not know the cause of their inherited tendencies toward undesirable behavior.

Life is not fair, but it can be better than fair.

Ways God helped me

As time passes, we are able to gain perspective we could not grasp in the heat of anger or rejection. After months and years, we gain new friends and jobs and a new confidence born of faith and experience with God.

Look for God’s hand, for his work. Do you see the person who hurt you doing better? If so, rejoice. Your long nights of praying through a terrible situation has borne fruit.

Are you doing better? I honestly can say God has improved my life over time, in spite of anything any human tried to do to me. God’s work absolutely trumps everything. No evil intention can stand against him.

When we realize our blessings come directly from God’s hand, we can be more empathetic and tolerant of others. We can send them a Christmas card with a message of peace and hope.

Try to be around the one who hurt you—if this is possible. Talk less. Listen more. Avoid any topics that might lead to conflict. Aim to have a peaceful, tolerable experience with the hurtful person—hopefully with other people around.

Practice grace. Forgive many times. Keep praying. Stay aware of your true emotions, and stay current with confession of your sin. Sometimes, we are more responsible for problems in a relationship than we first realize.

God has a way of revealing the entire picture when we are open to accept it. There is no eternal shame in confessing we were immature and unwise in younger years and made mistakes. Everyone who has not died has grown and changed.

We all are in the same boat of sin. Stay humble. Be able and willing to apologize. Apology feels free and clean, opening a path for the future.

When you need time and space away from conflict—away from the one who hurt you—take it. Make time and space for your own healing and peace of mind.

If you need to go to a different church, go with a loving, forgiving heart.

God does not require us to be around difficult people constantly, but he does require us to reflect Christ in all our dealings with others. That could mean Christlike interaction or simply leaving the door open for God to work in the future.

How Jesus helped me

Can we love someone we cannot be around all the time? My experience tells me yes. We can love their soul and the person they are, made in the image of God. We can love their potential for Christ and the good things they have done in the world, even if they were not good to us.

If this person is a Christian, we can love Christ in him or her.

Can Christ be a bridge between Christians? Surely, yes. We are commanded to be unified and love one another.

Some of the love we find in life is easy love that feels good and right. Other love is tough, and we have to pursue it, then sort it out. I have known both kinds.

Loving an enemy requires a generous love. For a time, that may be only a praying love.

Do not lose heart. Do not give up. Though we were apart from God, mired in deep sin, God poured out his agape love plan who is Jesus. Jesus breaks chains we think are immovable.

Ruth Cook is an educator assistant for an English-as-a-Second-Language class and is a longtime Texas Baptist. The views expressed in this opinion article are those of the author.

Heated rhetoric related to immigration is all around us. As both a longtime Houstonian and a Baptist minister, I view immigration as an incredible opportunity—not an invasion—for the church, our city and the nation.

Multiculturalism drives growth

For at least half a century, the leaders of South Main Baptist Church, where I serve as a minister, have been aware Houston’s multiculturalism drives our growth.

There are myriad reasons for this, including our relative proximity to the Mexican border, a strong tradition of refugee resettlement, the presence of the largest medical center in the world and the job creation of the energy industry.

Quite simply, Houston would not be the strong, vibrant city it is today without the roughly one-quarter of its residents who are foreign-born and the nearly half who speak a language other than English at home.

Becoming more culturally diverse

Some see South Main Baptist Church as fairly traditional, perhaps nudged in that direction by the presence of an organ. However, South Main has a history of considering how we are part of the larger world and how our faith calls us to engage with it. More than 50 years ago, church members recognized Houston was becoming more culturally diverse.

As part of that recognition, we considered how we should welcome those from other nations into the fabric of our city.

This has been expressed in various ways, including a program called SMILE—South Main’s International Learning Experience—which offered language classes, guidance on how to shop in a new country, and basic life lessons such as how and where to enroll children in school. Most importantly, the program created space to build real and lasting relationships.

At other times, South Main operated clinics for refugees and helped groups of migrants—first Chinese, then Korean, Hispanic and Cambodian—start and build their own churches.

So, while we may sing hymns accompanied by an organ, we do so while sitting around a “Table of Nations.”

Examining cultural rhetoric

More recently, we’ve realized the current cultural rhetoric surrounding migrant issues isn’t guided by faith, prompting us to take a deeper look at how our church is called to engage in this conversation.

To that end, some of our small-group Bible communities have incorporated this topic into their weekly study. This involves examining migration terminology, looking at Houston’s demographic makeup through a macro lens, and considering the reality of who migrants really are and how they’ve blessed our church and the city through a micro lens.

Most importantly, it involves exploring the scriptural basis for welcoming strangers into our community. In doing so, we’ve rediscovered in our midst doctors, students, researchers, artists, lawyers, blue-collar workers, parents and children who have come to our city and our church, adding depth and vitality.

Just this week, in one of these Bible communities, I was blessed to host a panel of four church members—each from a different country and each with a different story. That conversation was part of a deeper dive into how our church is called into the world and how the world has been called into Houston.

It was fascinating, heart-wrenching and compelling. Most of all, it was an eye-opening recognition that, while discussing immigration policy, border security and migration is difficult, it also is rewarding. We are better, fuller and more well-rounded for having that conversation together, face-to-face, guided by our faith.

Blessings of immigration

Our church in Houston certainly has been blessed by the arrival of immigrants, as have other congregations across our city. Immigrant congregations represent a rare bright spot of growth amid an overall picture of decline within American Christianity.

Immigration has impacted our community profoundly, bringing people from every nation to our doorstep. This shift has created a unique opportunity for us to live out our faith by welcoming and ministering to a diverse community.

As our city becomes more multicultural, we’ve experienced growth, new perspectives and a deeper understanding of the gospel’s reach, all thanks to the arrival of immigrants.

Secure borders

To be clear, I—and almost all Christians I know—affirm the government’s role in ensuring secure borders. However, a secure border and a closed border are not the same, and rhetoric that conflates them only serves to divide us.

Our country cannot accept everyone who arrives at the border. However, in fairly enforcing the law, we must not slander those who come, especially those arriving out of desperation. Taking in more immigrants through legal channels and with careful vetting actually could benefit our economy.

Moreover, loaded terms like “closed border” and “invasion” do not help unite the Christian community around this pressing issue. In fact, such terms likely push us further apart and obscure the fact many Christians agree on immigration reform.

A survey of evangelical Christians conducted by Lifeway Research earlier this year found almost all Texan evangelicals believe in secure borders, and more than 90 percent also agree our policies should respect the God-given dignity of all people and the unity of the family.

What we don’t need is dehumanizing, slanderous rhetoric that mocks the biblical teaching that each person is made in the image of God and therefore deserves to be treated with inherent dignity.

Instead, we should recognize how immigrants have been a blessing to our churches, cities and nation—and together, find ways to build systems and pass policies that leverage the present immigration opportunity.

J Hill is minister of missions at South Main Baptist Church in Houston, where they seek to feed the hungry, clothe those that need clothes, welcome the stranger and tend the sick. The views expressed in this opinion article are those of the author.

I ride my bike daily for exercise. It is strenuous, and I get a lot done in less time. I love to walk, but I can’t lose as many calories walking, and it takes way too long to get the equal production from walking as I can get on my bike.

Add to that, I am older now. My hips and knees aren’t able to walk like I once did. Now, don’t get me wrong, I am not saying I am old, just older. Rush Limbaugh said his whole life he always wanted to be older than he was. I have a good friend who, as long as I’ve known him, wanted to be old, acted old and thrived on being old.

That aside, I love to walk with the Lord—figuratively and spiritually, for sure. There is no better life than to walk with the Lord. There is joy. There is peace. There is blessing upon blessing. And there is this intimacy with God which makes one want even more.

I also love to walk with the Lord physically. On Saturdays, I don’t ride my bike. As a preacher, I work on Sundays. So, I try to take Saturdays as my day of rest. I drive my 1967 Pontiac LeMans each Saturday morning. I then take myself to a good, inexpensive, restful lunch. I then return to lay on the couch and watch football or my favorite television shows.

A Saturday walk

In the late afternoon on Saturdays, I take a walk with God. Our neighborhood has a beautiful tree-lined path that leads to a beautiful small lake, then down to the creek where a gorgeous bridge traverses the moving water below. Oh, my goodness, it is simply a breathtaking walk.

The whole time, I am visiting with the Lord, adoring him, thanking him for all he has done and all he has made for me and for us. If you haven’t done this in a while, you really should, and you really should weekly.

A few Saturdays ago, I was taking my walk with the Lord. As I passed the little man-made lake, I was near the creek, and I saw a father and a daughter standing, looking over the newly renovated detention pond.

The dad was in his 30s, I would guess, the little girl perhaps between 5-years-old and 7-years-old. I looked at them for a moment as I approached them, then kept walking. The closer I got, the more I felt the Lord wanted me to notice something.

I looked again. The dad was standing with his back to me, his hands on his hips, just standing, looking at the detention pond. I looked at the little girl beside her daddy. She had her back to me, her hands were on her hips, too, just standing.

After a little while, the dad began to walk away from the detention pond, his hands still on his hips. The little girl turned to walk behind him, her hands on her hips. I wondered what they would do next. After a few paces, the dad lowered his hands from his hips. I looked back at the girl, who then lowered her hands from her hips.

Did she realize she was copying her daddy, or was what she was doing just a natural, unknowing imitation of her father? They walked the same. They had the same mannerisms. They stopped at the same time. They looked at the same things.

Reflection

And I was walking with my Father.

I began to pray: “Lord, I want to walk like you. I want to do what you do. I want to stop when you stop, walk when you walk. I want my opinion on things to be the same as your opinion on things. I want to see things the way you do. I want people to see me and see the imitation of you.”

Walking with the Lord. Following in his steps. Doing what he does. Not doing what he would not do.

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

The U.S./Mexico border is a more complex situation than most realize. It’s certainly more complicated than news stories often convey. Since much of that border is also Texas’ southern border, Texas Baptists have a particular call to be involved there.

A week before the 2024 presidential election, I went to the Rio Grande Valley to put eyes on the “immigration crisis” myself and to meet asylum-seeker-hopefuls wishing to begin new lives sheltered within the security and promise of the United States.

I expected to find remarkable people who had endured great tragedy, doggedly determined to make a new way in a new country where life and human dignity are honored in a way not experienced in their homelands, and I did find something like that.

Accompanied by a guide and interpreter, I met two young mothers in their 20s from towns further south near Mexico City. The women and their families are residents of a refugee camp on private property on the Mexican side—a mostly fenced property of no more than three-quarters of an acre.

Women and mothers

One woman, married since she was 17 and a mother of an 8-year-old son and a 2-year-old daughter, invited me into the structure where her family lives, embarrassed she hadn’t tidied up.

The structure didn’t have a door, but it had a curtain, three rooms and a small Dia de Los Muertos shrine to the memory of her mother, lost to cancer, and her infant daughter, lost to a congenital heart condition.

One of the rooms was arranged as a shop with items to sell to other refugees. One was furnished with a makeshift table and pantry area that served as her kitchen. Behind another curtain, lay a room that served as the bedroom for the whole family.

Her family had been living at the refugee camp for eight months, awaiting an appointment through the CBP One app.

Another resident in her early-20s had a baby three months ago in a Mexican hospital, then brought her newborn baby home to her family’s shelter at the refugee camp.

The women I met were just like people I know here in the United States—human.

The camp

The camp consisted of fewer than 10 similar structures—built from shipping pallets and scrap wood with no doors or windows—housing individual families. Currently, seven families live there.

Additionally, the camp included a three-stall shower structure, where 5-gallon buckets of ambient temperature water could be hauled around to the back into a stall to wash.

There were structures housing ovens of a sort, a “living room” structure with a couch, armchair and TV and a laundry structure with two waist-high hand-wash basins, scrub boards built in.

Portable toilets served as restroom facilities, and there was one sink with running water in the largest outdoor kitchen structure in the middle of the camp. I did not see electricity anywhere, except the living room structure.

Camp residents currently number 10 women, 10 children, 18 men and one baby. Most are from deeper in Mexico, but I was told Ecuador and Dominica also were represented. They prefer living here to one of the two large refugee shelters run by evangelicals.

At the private camp, the men can work, and alcohol use is not grounds for expulsion.

In the past, the camp has housed much larger groups, including around 1,000 Haitians at one point. They were there before the more permanent structures were built, so the Haitians lived in tents and under tarps.

A different shelter

From the refugee camp, we walked across a field to a different shelter through a covered area where cartel “hawks”—or watchers—stood monitoring and permitted our passage to the refugee camp.

This shelter is enclosed behind high cinderblock walls with formidable doors. Four different faces peered through the trapdoor peephole, noting the “gringita” and the familiar face of my guide before they decided to open the door to us.

Security is tight for good reason. The men at the door, Guatemalans, explained they’d been unable to leave the shelter for weeks. They know if they do, the cartel is waiting. They will be kidnapped for ransom immediately.

Several hundred refugees currently are housed in there, but I didn’t get to speak with any besides the men at the door. They were a half-hour into an hours-long worship service under a large pavilion built by a grant from the Latter-day Saints.

Most people here live in tents raised off the ground by pallets. Restrictions against drugs, alcohol and weapons are zero-tolerance, but likely easily enforced since none of the refugees is free to come and go with the cartel threat just beyond the door.

The LDS grant also helped build around a dozen tiny homes with window units. Pregnant women and women with infants are prioritized for this housing.

Between the two locations of this other shelter, an estimated 1,000 to 1,500 refugees currently are waiting in Reynosa for CBP One appointments to request asylum.

Cost to cross

The risk to visit these shelters had increased since my guide last crossed the week before. Our taxi driver reported an increase in fares was due to the increase in risk.

One of my ride share drivers in McAllen told me a relative recently was kidnapped when the bus taking him to his job in Mexico was stopped by cartel.

Several men were taken, but when the bus driver was questioned, he said the bus had not made any stops and no one got on or off anywhere along his route, my driver explained.

The family was able to gain his brother-in-law’s release, but not until paying $10,000 to the cartel. The CBP One app has cut down on the coyotes’ income stream, with more asylum hopefuls choosing to wait for their chance to cross legally.

The wall

Additionally, on the Texas side I observed pieces of border wall, oddly arranged in football-field length sections and at least a mile from the Rio Grande in places.

Giant lights blaze each night from the seemingly haphazard barriers built atop concrete levees, taller sections erected under the first Trump administration and shorter segments under the Biden administration.

A complex situation

Border dynamics are complex. I came home from the border with many more questions than answers and with the words of Revelation 1:18 on my mind: “I am the living one; I was dead, and now look, I am alive for ever and ever! And I have the keys to death and Hades.”

Many of the 122.6 million displaced people around the world are physically and/or spiritually on the wrong side of that door. They need a way out of the hells they are facing.

Texas Baptists must prayerfully consider the Great Commandment and the Great Commission in our attitudes and conversations about border ministry and policy. The River Ministry offers vision trips and opportunities to serve among this vulnerable population.

Complex situations have no easy solutions, “but Jesus.” He calls us to be bold, trust him and step into the darkness with his light. May we be found faithful.

Calli Keener is a news writer for the Baptist Standard. The views expressed in this opinion article are those of the author.

He was born to a poor family in Turkey, Texas, in 1934, on a hard piece of ground. They named him John William.

The ground got harder when, a year later, his father died prematurely. His mother wanted the best for her son, but she was unable to provide.

So, she sent him off to live with her sister and her sister’s husband ,who had 10 kids of their own. Little John William was not naturally born to this family, but they loved him as if he was.

He did well enough in his schoolwork, but he thrived in sports, especially football. At the end of his senior year, he received a scholarship to play running back at Texas Christian University.

At TCU, he made the freshman team and had a good year running the football. The path was open for him to continue his college football career with the hope of making the pros. Then something changed.

On an evening in the dorm, John felt a nudge from God. It came out of nowhere. He felt God was calling him to be a singer, to lead people in worshipping God in song.

John changes direction

John William finished his freshman year at TCU. He then enrolled at North Texas State University in musical arts. North Texas had an award-winning choir and a nationally known choir director.

Did I tell you John never had sung before? He never sang in church. He never sang in high school, never sang for the Glee Club, never sang a solo, unless you count the times he burst out a song in the shower when no one was around.

The first week of that semester, he tried out for the university choir. The much-touted choir director asked John William to meet with him after the audition. John William felt pretty good about his chances.

It was then the director asked, “John, what made you want to try out for our choir?”

John answered, “God has called me to be a singer.”.

The director didn’t want to hurt his feelings, but also wanted to be honest: “John, in all my years of holding these auditions, son, you were by far the worst. I want to encourage you to try to do something different.”

John was determined: “No, sir. God called me to be a singer. Will you please give me a chance? I will be a good student. I will work hard. I will do what you say. I will practice constantly. Please give me a chance.”

The director felt he was wasting his time, but he gave him a shot. He assigned John to the third-string choir as a baritone. John was happy about the chance.

John gets another chance

On the first day of practice for the third-string choir, the director for that group gave each vocal group their parts. When he pulled them together to sing an arrangement, John sang with them with a big smile on his face.

After the rehearsal, this director asked John to stay after class, which he did.

The director asked John: “I asked you to sing with the baritones, but you only sang the melody. Why?”

John answered, “That’s all I know, sir.”

The director told John: “Look, I want to take a chance with you. Take these three songs and learn to sing the melody for these. Next week, I am going to have you try to sing the melody while the rest do their parts. Let’s see what happens.”

John was on his last chance to be a singer, to follow what he thought God had called him to do. The next week, John was pulled in front of the third-string choir. All would sing their parts. John William would sing the lead.

Do you know what happened next? John William, the little boy from Turkey, knocked it out of the park. The following week, he was singing lead for the first-string choir. He was a big hit.

John went far

The next thing you know, he was leading Christian crusades across America for men like James Robison, Bailey Smith, Mike Huckabee and more. He was singing on television weekly.

God used John William McKay in a mighty way. Mr. McKay, my best friend’s dad, went to be with the Lord recently, at age 90. He leaves behind five children, 16 grandchildren, 31 great-grandchildren, and a legacy of love and obedience.

God calls the most unlikely to do his work, because he does not look at the outside, but on the inside. He can use a turkey to do his work or a boy from a small community called Turkey, Texas. He can use you, too. Just listen and obey.

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

If this is your first holiday without a spouse or close relative, know that many have walked this path before you and may offer advice—myself included. If your loved one passed away since the last holiday season, you possibly are dreading this Thanksgiving and Christmas.

Sadness, loneliness and the replaying of memories means you have lost a relationship for which you always can be grateful. Many people never know beautiful family love, but you did. You enriched the life of the one who is gone, and that person enriched yours.

Life is joy and gratitude, then sorrow with gratitude when a new chapter like this begins. Love lasts forever, but the feelings that come with new circumstances may change.

You likely realize no two people handle grief exactly the same way. Some are able to have a family group for a holiday meal and get their minds off of their loss—at least temporarily. Others seem frozen in one spot, unable to move forward. How we cope—such as being social or not—is normal for us and should be respected by others.

How I handled grief

When my mother died, my pain was as bad as anything I have known in life. Yet, at Thanksgiving and Christmas, I tried to deny that emotion and overcome it by cooking, decorating and filling the living room with wrapped gifts. I tried to become my mother, doing everything I ever saw her do—as if I could make her loss go away.

That year, our “celebration” included my dad, my stepdad and his children, as well as my own sister and family. We had quite a crowd for our modest table. Food was plentiful with a ridiculous amount of homemade desserts.

I had worked myself into a daze, while the other guests were ravished with sadness. They wanted to remember mother and grieve, not eat cheesecake. So, I learned a few lessons, and together, we found a balance that felt like truth. Exhausting myself didn’t work.

Ways to engage grief

If this is your first holiday after a death, I recommend talking about your loved one at the time the family says the blessing over your meal. Ask for comfort through the Holy Spirt. Picture the glory of heaven, as what may feel like a joyless “rejoicing” is a foretaste of full joy with Jesus.

Holding hands as a family while you pray is healing. Stand together in grief, and together, face what lies ahead.

When families gather, members tend to form conversation groups. The various generations find one another, and the cousins talk to one another. Ministering to those we know best can be positive. Laughing, telling stories and recalling the past shows the true strength of our bond and memories together. Don’t discourage laughter, smiles or good times—even when you are sad.

Taking time out for a walk, nap or private conversation breaks up the day and gives us personal space we may need. Tears are more than OK. Tissues and hugs can be our friends right now.

Some people like new ways of celebrating when death has visited. To form new traditions, families may go on a cruise or rent a house in a vacation spot.

Some do this to avoid seeing an empty chair at home. But the loss will have to be faced eventually.

People grieve differently, though. If going away on a trip works for you, then do it. Enjoy life and use that energy for renewal.

Healing will come

No one can stay “broken” forever, as Creator God has built healing and resilience within us.

Eventually, our messy emotions catch up with one another and with reality. We find harmony with loved ones and their feelings and with own experiences with grief. We may incorporate some of their healing ways and find new help for ourselves in them.

The sun will come up again on a new day, and we will begin the familiar routines that sustain life and mental health—having our coffee, watching the news on TV, praying, seeking God in his word, eating healthy food, calling a friend.

Sunday rolls around, and we are drawn again to the fellowship of the saints. Friends welcome us back to church and may come pick us up to make things easier at first. Someone may bring us a casserole for lunch.

We can prepare for the death of loved ones by having these soul-nourishing routines in place now as an integral part of life—a close walk with God, friends, food and plenty of communication and exercise.

This year first

I am planning for my first Thanksgiving without my uncle as my family gathers next week.

My preparation for the gathering is so much more than making casseroles and desserts. This year, I have insight into deeper preparation I can make—spiritual preparation.

Everyone in my family one day will transition to heaven, and so will I. Are we ready?

Do we know how to handle the sad times as well as the happy? Maybe this year, we will learn how a day of gratitude with grief can become a sacred time that will strengthen our family for generations to come.

Ruth Cook is an educator assistant for an English-as-a-Second-Language class and is a longtime Texas Baptist. The views expressed in this opinion article are those of the author.