Advent is upon us, and, with it, innumerable opportunities for us to sidestep the world in favor of a more palatable one. For it is not just the Christmas sales and the gallons of eggnog that threaten to lull Christians to sleep; it is our forgetting that Christmas is a time when all times are called to account.

So much of our celebrating of Christmas exists not to trouble us, to flow easily into our calendar’s other events and cycles: Christmas as the most important quarter of the economic year, winter as the apex of the seasons, winter break as the reset between Fall and Spring semesters.

And our Christmas celebrations are not immune from this: the shopping, which is different in degree but not kind from the rest of the year; the food we eat is not different but more abundant.

And if this is all this is — a time to celebrate in the way we normally do, only more so — is it time to abolish the name Christmas? If Christmas has become a time like any other time, only more so, then maybe we should just quit.

Blowing up Christmas

As a theologian and ethicist, one of my favorite Christmas films is the 1980s classic “National Lampoon’s Christmas Vacation.” It begins, as a lot of Christmas films do, with some sort of crisis, which mushrooms into a major crisis, resolving all things by the end of Christmas.

And in that sense, it’s part of the problem, for “Christmas Vacation” begins and ends with a pretty minor problem: wanting to throw the best family Christmas celebration ever.

What it does differently, however, is that by halfway through the film, the veneer has been ripped off. Without giving away the plot too much, things continue to hurtle downhill as the patriarch Clark Griswold attempts to hold things together.

And finally, toward the end of the film, in one of the most memorable Christmas scenes of all time, Clark snaps, letting forth a tirade which functions not just as a comic high point, but as a judgment upon the whole film. For the film is built on the premise that most people live out their Christmas season: this is like the rest of the year, only more so — more food, more family, more stuff, more waste, more animosity and more frustration.

It is only in the last tirade that this understanding is blown up: families reconcile, crimes are forgiven, business models are reconfigured.

The difference Christmas makes

To read the Christmas stories of Scripture is to read the aftermath of a bomb going off: pagan princes who seek a Jewish king, lowly shepherds visited by God’s holy messengers, a king who kills 3000 children, a young family fleeing into exile in Egypt.

But such is the aftermath of God entering the story: Egyptian gods are brought down, waters are parted, fire erupts from heaven. To celebrate Christmas as simply like the rest of the time, only more so, is to miss Christmas entirely.

Christmas, if it is anything, is a celebration of the impossible possibility that God is among us, and that, in that, everything — everything — is different.

Things cannot, in light of Christmas, be the same: for God has come among us and thrown around the living room furniture, that everything might be different.

That is the gospel; that, and nothing less, is Christmas.

Myles Werntz is assistant professor of Christian ethics and practical theology and the T.B. Maston Chair of Christian Ethics at Hardin-Simmons University’s Logsdon Seminary in Abilene. Email him at Myles.Werntz@hsutx.edu.

The sheep and the goats are being separated each day over the past few months. Every day, new revelations come out about some powerful man abusing or harassing young women and young men. I cringe every time a news alert pops up on my phone.

Months ago, we thought Harvey Weinstein might be the most egregious example of a sexual predator. But, after allegations against many other well-known men in entertainment, the media, and politics, a much more complete vision is becoming undeniable.

What has lived for years as insider, local knowledge is now front-page news. And now these people who have abused and kept others from advancement in the workplace are losing their own careers.

Michael Gerson recently wrote in The Washington Post, “What seemed for generations the prerogative of powerful men has been fully revealed as a pernicious form of dehumanization. … An ethical light switch was flipped. Moral outrage — the appropriate response — now seems obvious.”

‘An ethical flash point’

We are in the midst of an ethical flash point. And what is being revealed about us is not pretty. This flash point is a time to take stock of who we are. What do we truly value?

And, for those of us in churches, we must ask: What needs to be reevaluated in us and our theology?

Words matter. Theology matters. What we do in church shapes our thoughts and creates categories of meaning and value.

This past summer, a colleague of mine at Woodland Baptist Church, Ellen Di Giosia, was called to be the senior pastor of the First Baptist Church of Jefferson City, Tennessee. Because First Baptist called her, they have now been kicked out of the Tennessee Baptist Convention.

We need another look at Scripture, and more than a passing glance that dismisses new or unfamiliar readings. Look at the way God’s Spirit acts through the ministry of women in the Bible.

In his essay “Women in Ministry: Biblical, Theological and Practical Reflections,” Dr. Todd Still makes note of a myriad of women in the New Testament who served the church in a variety of ways, many of which would be similar to modern-day pastors: Lydia, Priscilla, Junia, Tryphaena, Tryphosa, Euodia, Syntyche, and more.

Anna the prophet is one of the first to recognize the significance of Jesus’ birth. When she meets the Christ child at the Temple, she began to praise God and to speak about Jesus to everyone who was “looking forward to the redemption of Jerusalem” (Luke 2:38). It must have been a wonderful sermon!

For the most part, we have chosen not to see within Scripture the seeds of liberation for women within the life of the church. We have been convinced that yesterday’s patriarchy is God-ordained. And we are paying the price.

‘A direct path’

The sheep and the goats are being separated. It is no longer convenient to ignore the gifts of women in the church for preaching and teaching.

There’s a direct path from the theology of the Tennessee Baptists to the empowering of Harvey Weinstein. There’s a direct path from the Southern Baptists firing all women who teach men in its seminaries (e.g., firing people like Molly Marshall) and sweeping the vulgar acts of people like Roy Moore under the rug.

This is a theology that can’t come to terms with the sacred equality of women and men. Valuing maleness over the Spirit’s actions through women denies the radical nature of the incarnation.

This is a theology that refuses to see the Spirit as capable of acting through female flesh. Putting a cap on the Spirit’s capabilities is the definition of blasphemy.

The question is: Will we learn and be changed from this encounter? It is not too late.

After all, we have thought it was all lost before.

On that dreadful day long ago, a disciple went to Jesus’ tomb early on a Sunday morning. There Mary met the gardener. And, realizing who he was, she went back to the apostles and preached the first Christian sermon, saying, “I have seen the Lord.”

Garrett Vickrey is pastor of Woodland Baptist Church in San Antonio.

On my way to work every morning, I pass by Max Greiner’s bronze rendering of Jesus washing Peter’s feet in front of the Texas Baptist Historical Collection building in Waco.

The sculpture, titled “The Divine Servant,” was gifted to Texas Baptists by Dallas Baptist University in 1998 and made the move from Dallas when the collection moved to its new home early last year. It is located just across a side street from my office, and several times this week I have felt compelled to walk over and give it a look.

Nearing the end of a year that has been, by most reasonable standards, exhausting and weary for many of us, it has given me a much-needed opportunity to pull away and to clear my mind from the cloudiness of the news, family illness and the demands of work.

Away from the Silos

One of the most notable aspects of the sculpture has nothing to do with the work of art itself but with its location.

In case you haven’t heard, Waco is booming, in no small part because of a beautiful couple with a funny and engaging TV show and a lifestyle brand that encourages us to create beautiful spaces to live and entertain in. This has attracted scores of visitors downtown every week to hang out around silos, eat from food trucks and purchase wares to take home.

In addition, new businesses are popping up every week in once-abandoned spaces, and folks are actually walking around downtown, looking up and around, taking selfies with the ALICO building in the background and asking locals where they should eat and what they should see.

The statue is near where all this is occurring, but a tourist would have to be lost, wandering around several blocks from the all the action in order to stumble upon it. Jesus performs his act of humility on the margins of the crowds, in the places where we aren’t always looking for it.

Near to the homeless

Alan Lefever, the director of the Texas Baptist Historical Collection, tells me that he has seen some of downtown’s homeless population stopping at the sculpture to talk to it. I imagine they see something in it that we are unable or unwilling to see.

I’m guessing more than a few of them have gotten down low to peer into the eyes of Jesus. As the sculpture is aligned, it is impossible to see the face of the Savior without doing so, and doing so requires a certain amount of humility — which is, of course, the point of the work and the story from which it is inspired, as well as the great Christ hymn from Philippians 2, which is inscribed on the side of the sculpture.

It’s a magnificently absurd story, isn’t it?

Away from the powerful

The creator of all there is stooping on the ground to wash his friend’s feet. Imagine someone from outer space (or the outer realms of our own world) who has never had any exposure to the Christian story but has some ideas about God and gods and worship and allegiance and power differentials.

If you asked them to guess who was God in this work of art, what do you think they would say?

If they had recently heard sermons from certain television pastors or evangelical personalities who have aligned themselves with elected officials who promise victory and influence in the culture wars, it might be an easy answer: “Well, the guy getting his feet washed, of course!”

There’s a spirit of triumphalism that has engulfed those who claim to speak for God that has clouded the picture of Jesus washing feet, so much so that the question may even be confusing for us sometimes.

Our God slays enemies and advances our social and political agendas, we reason. He doesn’t wash feet.

Near the heart of God

The American church is at a crossroads, and I believe the symbols we choose to embrace will give some indication as to who and what we will be in the coming years.

Some are declaring very loudly and confidently that they will embrace the sword and the bully pulpit, looking to powerful, wealthy men who promise to return them to a place of prominence they feel they have lost.

Others are, sadly, turning away from the body of Christ altogether, unable to stomach this anti-Christian triumphalism, too tired to look for other symbols that will guide them toward God.

I pray we find the courage and humility to look to the Divine Servant, beckoning us to the side streets, away from the crowds and toward the ground where the hurting, hungry and homeless walk.

That’s where we find God.

Craig Nash grew up in Chandler, Texas, and is a graduate of East Texas Baptist University and Baylor’s George W. Truett Theological Seminary. He has lived in Waco since 2000, where he works for Baylor and attends University Baptist Church. If he were any more Baptist, he would need a committee on committees to help him decide who will help him make major life decisions.

On Friday, I read a summary of the biggest news stories of the week. Unsurprisingly, it was dominated by the series of sexual assault allegations brought forward in the last week, with the most attention given to Alabama Senate candidate Roy Moore.

While the wave of allegations against politicians, entertainers and other public figures is overwhelming, it demonstrates a positive change: women who have been afraid to share their stories are finally speaking out (and, to a lesser but still important degree, men too). Some victims, such as those who brought accusations against Harvey Weinstein and Kevin Spacey, found that society has generally believed them and responded appropriately.

The women who have accused Roy Moore of sexual assault and inappropriate behavior have faced more hostility.

Our burden of proof

The accusations against Moore are significant. Nine different women have reported assault or inappropriate behavior, several of which have been corroborated by multiple witnesses.

One provided a yearbook with Moore’s signature and a highly suggestible note. Multiple former police officers have corroborated that Moore was banned from a local mall for soliciting teenage girls. Moore’s denials have been incomplete and inconsistent at best.

More evidence indicates Moore’s wrongdoings than any of the allegations we’ve seen in the last month — except for Harvey Weinstein. If we claim that Roy Moore’s accusers haven’t met the burden of proof necessary to be believed, aren’t we claiming that there’s no such thing as a credible sexual assault allegation? What more would it take?

Two or more?

I’ve heard from many Christian leaders that the Bible provides a standard of proof that Moore’s accusers haven’t met. According to Deuteronomy 19, two or three witnesses are needed to corroborate an accusation, and Moore’s accusers haven’t met that.

There are a few significant problems with this claim. First, several of Moore’s accusers have, in fact, had their testimonies corroborated by other witnesses. Second, we can’t take the legal code given to Israel and apply it directly to our current government. After all, we don’t stone Sabbath-breakers and ban mixed-fiber clothing.

More importantly, Deuteronomy gives entirely separate procedures to the Israelites for dealing with rape and sexual assault: If the event took place somewhere where no one was around, the woman is automatically believed. The “two or three witnesses” rule didn’t apply in these cases; rape and sexual assault very, very rarely take place in public.

I’m deeply concerned about the message this argument sends. If we refuse to believe women who say they have been assaulted unless there were witnesses present, we necessarily end up refusing to believe sexual assault exists because they don’t typically happen in public.

The burden of proof is impossible to meet. We’re telling people that the Bible prevents sexual assault from being prosecuted.

The question

Where does this leave women in the church?

The Roy Moore issue is revealing an ugly discrepancy in how the church responds to sexual abuse.

When we loudly condemn members of one party who have been accused of sexual assault but defend members of another, we’re teaching our young men and women that partisan politics are more important than women’s safety.

We’re teaching them that, if their politics are right, their conduct doesn’t matter.

What’s at stake

How Christians respond to the Roy Moore charges is incredibly important.

If we dismiss the charges without any serious consideration, despite all the evidence indicating the charges are credible, we send the message that a seat in the Senate is more important to us than women’s safety and a political victory matters more than justice.

Much is at stake in the way Christians respond to the accusations against Moore.

If we don’t take them seriously, we send the message that the church is not a safe place for women.

If we seek justice for these crimes only when politically convenient and suppress and harass victims when it isn’t, we delegitimize our message and plant the idea that we will support abusers if their party affiliation is right.

The safety of women and the credibility of the gospel we proclaim is at stake. Let’s not be so quick to dismiss Moore’s accusers.

Jake Raabe is a student at Baylor University’s George W. Truett Theological Seminary in Waco, Texas. He is also a co-founder of Patristica Press, a Waco-based publishing house.

“Finally, brothers, whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is just, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is commendable, if there is any excellence, if there is anything worthy of praise, think about these things.” This is the Apostle Paul in Philippians 4:8 calling us to focus on truth and goodness wherever we find it.

I am sick of the fighting and the nastiness that dominate so much of our public debate and discussion. I am sick of calls for civility being dismissed. I am sick of the twisted moral reasoning we all use in order to defend our preferred political party. I am sick of having to use the qualifier, “Now, I don’t agree with everything here.”

I am sick of judgments being made about someone’s relationship with Jesus based on how they voted in the last election. I am sick of political parties dividing the body of Christ.

Recognizing truth and goodness

Truth, goodness, justice and excellence can be found everywhere and often in what we feel are unlikely places.

Instead of looking for truth only in the places and outlets that make you comfortable or confirm your bias, try getting out of your partisan ghetto and listening and learning from those with a different point of view. God’s kingdom is bigger than our voting bloc, and it is working in places we dismiss.

Obedience to Paul’s command requires knowing the truth and standing on this principle above politics. When truth is our priority, we can affirm it where we find it. We don’t have to agree with everything, we don’t have to approve of everything, but we must affirm and encourage truth where it is found.

This means we can build relationships with those who think differently than us, vote differently than us and look different than us. We can read books and magazines and newspapers with differing viewpoints, affirm the truth we find there and use the truth as points of agreement to build relationship to show God’s love in tangible ways.

Setting our mind on goodness means we set our minds on the goodness of God’s image in all people. To set our minds on goodness means we cannot hate another that is created in the image of God. We must treat all with respect and dignity. We must love all created in God’s image, and we must focus on the good that image entails.

When we live in the truth that all are created in God’s image and loved by God, it becomes harder to hate, belittle and dismiss. The litmus test for our love is not whether you watch the right news channel or whom you voted for in the last election. All people are valuable and are to be honored because they bear the image of our creator.

Don’t minimize the image of God in others because you disagree with them politically.

Calling out lies and distortions

On the other side of this, we must call out lies and distortions of the truth even when, and probably even more so, it happens on the side we agree with more. Truth is truth and a lie is a lie no matter whether a name has an R or D beside it. Reflexively defending someone or condemning someone just because of their political leanings is not loving our neighbor well.

We are people of the truth, and we must stand for the truth that transcends our political battles. We must celebrate goodness where we find it. We must stand for justice and against oppression. The unity of the church is more important than the next election.

The image of God in others is more important than their voting record.

Unifying salt and light

We are called to civility, to be respectful and gentle in sharing the hope we have with the world. Celebrate truth. Cross the cultural dividing lines to celebrate goodness. Stand with the oppressed. Call out lies and distortions of the truth. Recognize and affirm the image of God in all people.

Paul calls us ambassadors of reconciliation in 2 Corinthians 4. Have we lived up to this identity, this calling?

This reconciliation must begin with the body of Christ across racial, ethnic, economic and political lines. We are way too divided in our country but also in the church. Unity, love, respect and civility must start in the body of Christ, and, in this way, we can be salt and light to this divided world.

We can call others to a better way. We can be better ourselves.

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

The Apostle Paul, in 2 Corinthians 6:10, gives one of the most apt descriptions of the reality of the Christian life when he says he is “sorrowful, yet always rejoicing.” We live in a broken world, a world filled with evil, suffering and death. Yet, we rejoice as followers of Jesus because we know he is sovereign and he is good. To live in this tension is the center of the Christian life.

Sorrowful

It is not hard to be filled with sorrow in this world. Think of these last few months in our country.

Texas, Florida and Puerto Rico have been ravaged by hurricanes. There was the tragedy in Las Vegas that left 58 people dead and injured 546 more.

Then, last weekend, as many of us were gathered with our church families praying together, hearing God’s word proclaimed and singing praises to our king, a man burst through the door of First Baptist Church Sutherland Springs and killed 26 people as they worshipped.

There is no doubt this world is broken. Our response to this brokenness is not to sweep it under the rug or to ignore it altogether. None of us can escape the effects of sin on this world. We see the brokenness and the evil and we are filled with sorrow.

The church must be honest about our sorrow. The prosperity gospel and our tired clichés have tried to paint over the truth of how hard it is to live with hope and joy in the midst of a world where people enjoying a concert, or even praying together in a church, can be gunned down.

Paul knew sorrow and Paul was honest about his sorrow. It is OK for us to admit we are sorrowful.

Maybe your sorrow is close in this season of your life. Paul says he lives in this tension of being “sorrowful, yet always rejoicing.” We live in this same tension. Sorrow is a state we often find ourselves in because of the reality of sin, evil and death, but we can walk through this sorrow with joy.

Yet

Paul has known sorrow intimately and yet continues to rejoice in Christ. Paul trusts Jesus in the midst of his sorrow.

The foundation of Paul’s joy is the hope of the gospel, the hope we have in Jesus because he died, rose again and will return to make all things new. We groan and we long for redemption and restoration, and, in the resurrection of Christ, we have the down payment of this renewal. This hope produces joy.

Joy is more than a feeling. It is more than being in a good mood or being optimistic. Biblical joy faces this world honestly, standing on the promises of God and the hope of the gospel.

Joy and happiness are not the same thing, and our churches must teach our people the difference. The church must prepare our people to learn to live in the midst of sorrow with joy.

It is not our calling to entertain, and it is not ultimately our calling to be relevant. We are called to make disciples and, to effectively make disciples for this sorrowful world, we must teach our brothers and sisters how to honestly live with gospel joy. Biblical joy anchors our soul in the storms of this world.

Always rejoicing

This last week, at a press conference following the tragedy at First Baptist Church Sutherland Springs, Sherry Pomeroy, the wife of pastor Frank Pomeroy, read a statement about what happened and the loss of their daughter. Her powerful words were filled with sorrow, but they were also filled with hope.

She proclaimed beautifully the hope of eternity that is ours in Christ. At that moment, we saw what it means to be sorrowful, to grieve an unimaginable loss, but to stand on the truth of the gospel firmly and boldly.

Sometimes, we rejoice with tears in our eyes and a heart that is broken. This is a part of the tension of following Jesus. We walk with sorrow in this broken world, but we rejoice because we know this evil will not last, death will not have the final word and Jesus is king.

In Jesus, we can truly be “sorrowful, yet always rejoicing.”

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

There is a fine line between “hugging” the church and “squeezing the life out of” the church.

That is, what may feel like loving the church may actually be part of the cause for why our church is declining, reaching fewer and fewer people and, perhaps, be close to dying.

When we love someone or something, we want to protect the object of our love from loss. This is a natural reaction to perceived harm. Sometimes, though, in order for us to grow, there needs to be change.

When this happens, our response is often to interpret the need for change as a threat to whomever or whatever we love. Therefore, we often express our love via protectionism by resisting or fighting against the perceived threat.

Through the lens of loss

Ronald A. Heifetz and Marty Linsky, in their excellent book, “Leadership on the Line: Staying Alive through the Dangers of Leading,” wrote, “People don’t resist change, per se. People resist loss.”

The first time I read this, it provided me one of the most helpful tools for leading. As I’ve led three different churches over the years, I have often interpreted the resistance, and sometimes outright hostility, to proposed change as people being “opposed to change.” Sometimes this was the case, but sometimes the resistance came from people who deeply loved the church and were simply processing the proposed changes through the lens of loss.

The response to the perceived loss was to “hug the church” by actively and passively resisting the proposed changes. I should note that I’m using the phrase “proposed change” to mean methodical change and not doctrinal/biblical change.

The challenge, especially for established churches, is that being protective — which is not bad in and of itself — may actually be squeezing the life out of the church.

‘Because they love the church’

I don’t need to tell you that there are many established Texas Baptist churches that are struggling. All have members who love their church. Because they love their church, they know these challenges need to be addressed. Nevertheless, the proposed changes often feel too much like loss, and the church struggles to find a way to move forward.

In so many churches, this is the stalemate that now exists: pastors and church leaders are proposing changes that need to happen because they love the church and church members are resistant to those changes due to the perceived loss — because they love the church too.

Knowing how challenging this can be, I’d like to give two proposals, one for pastors and church leaders and one for church members:

• Pastors and church leaders: As we lead change and guide our churches to renewal, let’s remember the loss people are feeling. I know this can be hard, but if we view resistance as people simply “opposed to change,” we often become harsh, critical and domineering in our leadership. Yes, let’s lead! Let’s also give people space to grieve and help them to see what might be gained.
• Church members: What if, in the name of “hugging the church,” we saw the challenges and needed changes as opportunities for God to work in ways that are new to us? What if we encouraged our pastors and church leaders to share God-sourced, God-sized visions that will probably not be accomplished until after we are gone? What if we acknowledge our loss, respond in a healthy way, and then grow through the process in order to see how God wants to work?

I’m not delusional about how hard this is … for everyone involved. Nevertheless, I continue to hope and pray for great renewal in established Texas Baptist churches.

Ross Shelton is pastor of First Baptist Church in Brenham, Texas.

We are not called to do “big” things for God.

This notion of being great comes more from our surrounding culture than it does the Bible, and many people are paralyzed because they don’t feel like they are doing enough or are gifted enough to be a hero of the faith.

The truth is, when we begin to see the Bible as the revelation of God working through ordinary men and women and not some superheroes of faith, we begin to see its true power for our everyday lives. Abraham, Moses, Hannah, Paul, Mary and whomever else we want to list from the Bible were all ordinary men and women who trusted God, struggled with sin and sought to live faithfully where God called them.

True greatness

In Mark 9, the disciples are arguing about which one of them is the greatest. You can imagine them discussing how much they had done for God — how many people they had healed and how many had come to hear them teach.

Jesus asks them about this discussion, and then, in verse 35, he says, “If anyone would be first, he must be last of all and servant of all.” Greatness in God’s eyes is marked more by humility and service.

Power in the kingdom of God

Truly world-changing lives don’t seek to do “big” things; they seek to do the ordinary, mundane things by faith for the glory of God. Lives that truly change the world love God and love neighbor in the everyday tasks of washing dishes, dropping kids off at school, meeting for coffee, checking cows and buying groceries.

We are called to be faithful to God and to who he has called us to be right where he has placed us. We are salt and light. We are the hands and feet of Jesus right now in the lives we are already living.

The question is, will we live up to this calling?

When we see the power of the ordinary and the call to trust and love God in all things, it changes the way we see faithfulness and greatness in the kingdom of God. God cares about the mundane, and it is through the mundane where we live out the Great Commission and obey the Great Commandment.

There will be times where we will go and spread the gospel around the world or where we will seek justice and do good in specific ways outside of the everyday, but the bulk of our lives are lived doing ordinary tasks. We have to see the ordinary as the place where we are “last of all and servant of all.”

Leading people to ordinary faithfulness

This paradigm shift must begin with those of us who pastor and lead the church.

We have tended to allow the celebrity culture around us to influence what we think of as great instead of equipping men and women to be faithful in their everyday lives.

When we think of ourselves as entrepreneurs instead of shepherds and are more concerned with numbers over faithfulness, we are teaching our people to value the big over the truly great. Maybe we should return to the description of faithfulness Jesus gives us, that of humility and sacrifice, instead of the advice of the latest leadership guru and seek to equip our people to be faithful in the everyday, mundane powerful moments of their lives.

God wants to use your ordinary

Don’t seek to do big things for God. Try to be faithful where God has called you and in the ordinary tasks of the day God has given to you to live out this faithfulness.

Our Christian life is more than our mountaintop experiences. God gives us mundane tasks and ordinary days for us to practice humility, service and love.

Love God and neighbor around your dinner table and as you wash dishes. Be salt and light as you shop for groceries and pump your gas. Walk with humility and serve others as you pick your kids up from school and go out to eat with your family or friends.

These are the moments where greatness in the kingdom of God is lived out.

These are the moments God uses to change the world.

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

I am not a church historian. I do not know all of the details of what happened 500 years ago on October 31, 1517, and during the aftermath which followed the events of that day.

What I have heard and learned is that October 31, 1517, is marked as the moment when wide-ranging sentiments of resistance to the injustices of the Roman Catholic Church found a voice in the form of 95 grievances, or theses, nailed to the door of the church in Wittenberg, Germany by Martin Luther.

Each year, October 31 is celebrated as Reformation Day to commemorate the seismic shift that happened to separate Roman Catholics and Protestants. This year we celebrate the 500^th anniversary of this momentous event.

I am immensely grateful for many of the renovations which took place as a result of the Protestant Reformation, such as understanding justification to come by grace through faith, being able to read and interpret Scripture for myself and not having to pay indulgences for the sins I commit.

But I also can’t help but wonder about the consequences of this kind of divorce within the church.

Loss and splitting

Undoubtedly, the most profound consequence was loss.

People lost their families, homes, jobs and even their lives as a result of this needed reform. Even though Christ modeled to us that there are things in this world worth sacrifice, still the cost cannot be negated.

But another consequence which has begun to trouble me is the phenomenon of “splitting” in response to disagreement.

Indeed, splitting may be necessary in some cases of intense theological dispute. The Protestant Reformation was not even the first split in church history. However, it most certainly is not the last either, as the proliferation of different Christian denominations is staggering.

Baptist splits

According to a report that Gordon-Conwell Theological Seminary published in a 2014 issue of the International Bulletin of Missionary Research, there were 45,000 denominations worldwide in mid-2014. The report indicates the majority of these denominations began in the 20^th century, and it projects continued aggressive growth so that by 2025 there will be 55,000 worldwide denominations.

Indeed, as Baptists we have seen this to be true in the last 30 years with the creation and growth of new Baptist “denominations.” We have split over matters related to biblical interpretation, creedalism, the role of women in the church, how to understand the autonomy of the local church and full inclusion of LGBTQ persons in the life of the church.

Once again, we see a “split” playing out just this past week in the Tennessee Baptist Convention as their Credentials Committee has chosen not to seat messengers from a church which recently called a woman to be their senior pastor.

And this week, as well as over the past 30 years, we have seen the consequence of loss play out as a result of these Baptist splits as churches are “excommunicated” from partnering with their Baptist families, and some are even treated as if they are not true Christians.

So, on this 500^th anniversary of Reformation Day, I would like to suggest a few ideas we might ponder.

Can we agree to stop disagreeing?

First, what issues are worth sacrifice and loss? Are there really 45,000 issues among Christ-followers worth this kind of division? Or are there 45,000 more issues worth dividing and sacrificing over?

Second, what issues might we choose to exist in disagreement over in order that we might continue to partner with other Christ-followers? In my Baptist heritage class, I remember learning the foundational Baptist principle that we cooperate because we can do more together than we can do on our own.

The next great church ‘rummage sale’ draws nigh

Third, (take a minute to imagine with me on this one), what would it look like if the next great reformation of the church was for cooperation instead of another major division?

In her book, “The Great Emergence,” Phyllis Tickle described how every 500 years or so the church has a “rummage sale” which results in a reshaping of how Christianity is defined.

The first happened as a result of the Council of Chalcedon in 451 and reforms of Gregory the Great in the sixth century after the “Oriental” church was excommunicated.

The second was the separation of the east (Eastern Orthodox Church) and west (Roman Catholic Church) in the Great Schism of 1054.

The third was the Protestant Reformation, which is identified with Martin Luther’s actions in 1517 which we are celebrating this week.

So, if Tickle is right, then on this 500^th anniversary of the Protestant Reformation, Christianity is due for a reshaping, a rummage sale of sorts. And, personally, the thing I would love for the church to decide to get rid of is the loss, sacrifice and contention of perpetual division.

How much more could cooperating Christ-followers do together if we respect and love each other enough to accept our disagreements?

Redeeming God, make us one in the bonds of love.

Meredith Stone is director of ministry guidance and instructor of Christian ministry and Scripture at Hardin-Simmons University’s Logsdon School of Theology. She is a member of the Baptist Standard Publishing board of directors.

October 31, 2017, marks the 500^th anniversary of Martin Luther’s posting of his “95 Theses” on the door of the Wittenberg cathedral, an event often called the beginning of the Protestant Reformation.

The “Theses” represent an early stage in Luther’s theological development and may sound surprisingly un-Protestant to modern readers. He had not yet formed his mature understanding of justification yet and doesn’t actually reject the practice of indulgence-granting in this document. They were written in Latin, with no intent for the dispute to be read by lay people.

So why do we commemorate the Reformation on this day, and why did the “Theses” cause such a stir?

A question of authority

Luther’s criticisms of indulgence-sellers weren’t entirely new in his day; what was new was his claim that the Pope lacked the power to grant or withhold salvation. So Luther wrote in thesis six: “The pope cannot remit any guilt, except by declaring and showing that it has been remitted by God.”

Medieval Catholic theology, reading Christ’s promise to Peter in Matthew 16 that “whatever you bind on earth will be bound in heaven, and whatever you loose on earth will be loosed in heaven,” held that the Pope had ultimate authority over matters of salvation. This authority was given by Christ to Peter, from Peter to his successor, from Peter’s successor to his successor, and so on throughout history. When Luther challenged the ability of the Pope to administer salvation, he was posing a fundamental question about the nature of authority in the Christian church.

Much progress has been made in the 500 years since the Protestant Reformation, particularly in light of the ecumenical movements of the last century.

The Second Vatican Council (1962–1965) brought clarity to the Roman Catholic Church’s understanding of papal authority and, for the first time in the church’s history, declared that Protestants were also Christians (if you’re looking for some light reading, you can find that document here).

Almost as remarkable is the ongoing dialog between the Roman Catholic Church and the Lutheran World Federation, which has included Roman Catholic praise of the work and contributions of Martin Luther and an especially remarkable document about common understandings of justification.

Though many contemporary Christians, particularly of my age group, wonder if the Reformation was worth the fracture in church unity, I would argue that both Protestant and Catholic churches have developed a more faithful understanding of Christ’s person and work and the role of the Church as a result.

Sola Scriptura

In light of these ecumenical discussions, much of what initially made Protestantism unique in the 16^th century is now shared by Catholics as well. Though with differing understandings, contemporary Catholics can affirm ideas like justification by faith and through grace alone. The differences between the two groups are smaller now than they have ever been. Given this, what does it mean to be a Protestant in 2017, 500 years after Luther nailed his “95 Theses” to the door of the Wittenberg cathedral?

The answer to this question lies in the relationship between Christ and authority. In Roman Catholicism of the 16^th century and today, the pope functions as the “Vicar of Christ,” or Christ’s stand-in on Earth. The Protestant idea of Sola Scriptura is a counterpart to this idea: to borrow from John Calvin, Scripture is the scepter Christ rules the Church with.

When Protestants confess that authority in the Church comes through Scripture alone, we confess that Christ remains active in the world and continues to guide his Church directly today. Christ has not left us to our own devices but continues to speak to us.

‘A confession about Christ’

To appreciate the rich heritage and striking claims of the Protestant movement is not to be nonecumenical or anti-Catholic.

I can appreciate the teaching and work of Pope Francis without thinking of him as Christ’s vicar, just as a Roman Catholic can have a deep love and appreciation of Scripture as authoritative without making the same claims about it that I do. To think differently than another is not to hate them, and to think this is a hindrance to real, meaningful unity. Christ is honored in both traditions, and we don’t need to feel guilty for holding to our understanding of the Christian faith.

What we should remember, 500 years after the Reformation, is what made us distinctive in the first place. Sola Scriptura, even more than a statement about how we formulate doctrine, is a confession about Christ. It is the heart of Protestantism and the singular claim that both unites the diverse movement and makes it unique within the larger Christian Church.

If we lose this, we lose both the most basic component of the Protestant identity and the basis for our confession about Christ. 500 years after the Reformation, Sola Scriptura is as important a cry as ever.

Jake Raabe is a student at Baylor University’s George W. Truett Theological Seminary in Waco, Texas. He is also a co-founder of Patristica Press, a Waco-based publishing house.

The obvious tragedy of August’s “Unite the Right” rally in Charlottesville was the reminder that overt, Jim Crow-style racism still exists in our country.

There are still those who believe people of color should occupy a secondary status in the United States. Some still believe that European-descended whiteness is the gold standard for human existence and are willing to take up torches to illuminate this alleged fact.

And, let’s be honest, Charlottesville revealed that there are still those who would lynch a black man in the town square if we all decided to look the other way.

But this event, and others like it, comes with a second, less visible tragedy, which is that it lures us into believing that racism in America is a simple, easy-to-solve issue that involves Good People vs. Bad People.

The Bad People are those with torches screaming about White Supremacy; the Good People are everyone else. (Granted, there is a small subjection of those who believe there were good people with torches in Charlottesville, but I’ll leave that for another day.)

This trap makes us think that if we just stand on the correct side of the racist divide and get the few remaining on the wrong side to come on over to the other side, then racism will successfully be defeated in our country.

This is a tragedy because it leaves some very difficult work left undone.

Good People vs. Bad People?

It ignores the reality that racism isn’t just about Good People vs. Bad People, but that it is an ingredient baked into the cake of our history.

Because of this, many of us “Good People” are just as culpable for White Supremacy continuing to be prevalent as the “Bad People” who preach White Supremacy as a creed. We dismiss cries for justice for police brutality against young, black men as something that is the fault of young, black men, but then scoff at the suggestion that we still have some racist tendencies.

We blame poverty and violence in poor black communities on the absence of a traditional family yet shield our eyes from the fact that mass incarceration of black men in our country (for crimes that get white men mere citations) has kept fathers out of families for generations.

But we are nice and love everyone, so what’s the big deal?

We are on the right side of the line that divides the Good People with hugs from the Bad People with torches, so keep your “racism is systemic and structural” mumbo jumbo to yourself and leave us alone.

Unjust system

I’m reminded here of a quote from Sister Helen Prejean: “Being kind in an unjust system is not enough.”

I would add that it is even more insufficient if we deny that our system is unjust. In fact, it would probably be better if we were unkind in an unjust system than to be kind in a just one, because at least then we know where everyone stands. For those who follow Jesus, it is easier to convert someone from hate to love than it is from denial and self-preservation to belief that there is a problem, and we are part of it.

The times are tumultuous, and the world needs congregations to speak true peace into the storms that are dividing us. This peace obviously isn’t going to come from our leaders in the highest human offices, who would rather make cries for justice an issue of patriots vs. non-patriots and standing vs. kneeling than to take up the hard, long work of dismantling unjust systems that took centuries to build up.

We’ve also seen that it will not come from the Evangelical leaders who have risen to prominence as enablers of this mindset.

It will only come from those following Jesus who stop along the pathway and actually listen to those crying for justice and — this is the important part — take them at their word.

Because I’ve never known Jesus, either in the written biblical text or in my own experience with him, look someone in the eye who has been pushed to the margins of society crying for help and healing and say, “I don’t believe you,” or, “It’s your fault.” He approached every hurting person with a hermeneutic of compassion and belief.

‘An evil ink’

I’m not Calvinist or Reformed in the broad (or even particular) sense of the word, and I have often had Calvinist theology in my crosshairs over the years. I have had a tenuous relationship with what we call “Evangelicalism” for some time. But it is in some of these corners of the body of Christ where the most difficult work is being done with regards to systemic and structural racism.

I’m thinking specifically of pastors John Piper and Matt Chandler, as well as writers and preachers such as Beth Moore. These are not historically people whose quotes show up in my social media feeds often, but they have been courageous and bold in confessing that racism is not simply about Good People and Bad People but about an evil ink that is in the water we are all swimming in. I may not agree with all their conclusions or suppositions, but I am challenged and encouraged by their voices.

‘We believe you’

Like women who have recently spoken or written the painful confession “#MeToo,” which demands us all to take notice, it is the duty of every person who claims the good, compassionate news of Jesus to respond with, “We believe you.”

When people of color gather to protest the senseless murder of young black men at the hands of law enforcement, the response of our churches has to be, “We believe you.”

When athletes decide to take a knee during a ritualistic practice of the empire to say, “Hey, LISTEN to us!” every last Evangelical leader needs to be kneeling down in front of them, looking in their eyes, declaring, “We believe you.”

And the response to learning about the concepts of white privilege should never be one of defense or shock, but a simple, humble, “We believe you.”

It’s time for us to lay our swords of defense down and be agents of peace. But we are going to have to walk through some uncomfortable feelings and conversations that don’t feel very peaceful before that peace is realized.

May we be humble and courageous enough to do this difficult work.

Craig Nash grew up in Chandler, Texas, and is a graduate of East Texas Baptist University and Baylor’s George W. Truett Theological Seminary. He has lived in Waco since 2000, where he works for Baylor and attends University Baptist Church. If he were any more Baptist, he would need a committee on committees to help him decide who will help him make major life decisions.

Back in 1977, the year I turned 24, at the beginning of my business career, a man named Robert Ringer wrote a book that became a huge international best-seller, which is unusual for a business book. I think Robert Ringer himself was surprised by the book’s success.

It was called “Looking Out for Number One.” Perhaps you read it.

The book’s jacket boldly stated the basic message: “This book will clearly demonstrate how to get from where you are now to where you want to be—with friends, lovers, finances, and all other areas of your personal world…” by putting YOUR needs first.

I read the book as a neophyte to the business world, and, as a Christian, I couldn’t believe how different what this man advocated was from what I’d been taught in Sunday School all my life. “Look out for Number One!” became a mantra in the business community.

“Because if you don’t,” it was understood, “who will?”

I recall thinking, “Well, God will.”

Look out for each other

I had two good friends who were coworkers back then, and I remember talking about the book with them. “Look,” I said, “if I look out for Number One, and my friend Dale looks out for Number One, and my friend Bob looks out for Number One, then we each have just one person looking out for our best interests: ourselves. But if we do it Jesus’ way, and put others interests before our own, then we each have at least two people looking out for our own best interests. I have Bob and Dale looking out for me. Dale has Bob and me. And Bob has me and Dale looking out for him.”

That math holds up today. If you multiply that throughout the Christian community, in a typical Baptist church each of us has roughly 100 to 300 people looking out for each other’s best interests, not just one.

That wasn’t bad reasoning for a 24-year-old. I think the Holy Spirit gave me that thought. And I shared it with the Bible Study class I was teaching then. With them I took it even further, going at it in the other direction.

‘Me against my brother’

This is what I reasoned. If everyone is looking out for Number One, then quite naturally, it is me against my brother. My interests take precedence over my brother’s. If push comes to shove, then my brother and I will link arms against my family. We’re right; they’re wrong.

And, naturally, my family would come together in a dispute against other clans—think Hatfields and the McCoys. And if the state started meddling in our business? It would be our community against the state.

And, by God, if the feds try to step on states’ rights, why, don’t tell us what to do! We’ll just secede from the Union!

And God help us if the Russians push us Americans too far, because we’ll link arms with other nations and they will link arms with their allies and we’ll all rain nuclear warheads down upon each other’s heads!

That is what comes from “Looking Out for Number One.”

What’s the alternative?

‘A new commandment’

We all need to look UP for Number One (the real Number One), look OUT for one another, and look IN to determine if our own hearts are right with God.

In the end, that’s the only thing one can control. Is your heart right with God? If not, then you got yourself some repenting to do!

Jesus said, “A new commandment I give to you, that you love one another, even as I have loved you, you should love one another” (John 13:34).

Well, how did Jesus love you? By looking out for Number One?

I don’t think so.

Rich Mussler is a writer and a member of First Baptist Church in Lewisville, Texas. He can be reached here.