I’ll never forget my first Ash Wednesday service.

Meredith Stone

Since I have been a Baptist my entire life, experiencing a service of ashes was unfamiliar to me until I learned more about the tradition in seminary.

So, one year during seminary, some of my friends and I decided to wake up early and go to the 7:00 a.m. Ash Wednesday service at our local Episcopal church.

Confession—we didn’t really know what to do when we got there!

We walked in the door, sat down and tried very hard to follow along with the cues of when to sit, stand, pray, sing, go to the front, etc. When it came time to receive ashes, we were glad to be sitting on the last row so we could watch what the others did when they reached the front of the room.

Dust to dust

Like the others, we kneeled down and clasped our hands in front us. Then, the rector came to each of us, smudged a bit of ash on our foreheads in the shape of a cross, and said, “Remember that you are dust, and to dust you shall return.”

The year following my first experience with Ash Wednesday, I was serving as teaching pastor in a church that was willing to try new things. So, with my newfound confidence in knowing about all things Ash Wednesday, I organized a service of ashes.

But as is often the case, confidence is easily misplaced.

The service went along nicely until it was time to impose the ashes. I had asked the lead pastor to scrape some ashes out of his fireplace so that we could use them for this part of the service. Only the cross-shaped smudges we were trying to impose weren’t really sticking—or looking much like crosses for that matter, either.

We chalked it up to a Baptist mishap and found joy in the experience anyway.

Keep on trying

The next year when it was time for Ash Wednesday, we talked about adjustments to the service, and the subject of the ashes came up. We assigned the finding/preparing of ashes over to another member of our leadership team. Lucky for us, he actually did his research.

He discovered the ashes that are imposed on Ash Wednesday are supposed to be made from burning the dried palm leaves from the previous year’s Palm Sunday. Then, sometimes the ashes are mixed with a bit of olive oil to have a “sticky” texture.

Obviously, we didn’t realize this tradition 10½ months earlier, when it would have been time to save the branches. So, we improvised that year.

Then finally, the next year, for the third service of ashes we held together, we had saved the palm branches, and we had all the required elements and knowledge for a successful imposition of ashes.

“Nothing” happened

Funny thing happened though—nothing.

Nothing seemed to be different about the service. We still sang songs, read Scripture and prayed. People still took time to consider entering into a season of repentance and self-reflection. The different texture of the ashes didn’t seem to matter.

Only, it did matter to me.

For thousands of years, the church has held certain practices. Some of them include celebrating the Lord’s Supper; following the ordinance of baptism; the fact we pray, sing and read Scripture together; and even the fact churches save the palm branches from Palm Sunday to burn for the next Ash Wednesday.

When our church joined with those countless other churches to worship together in a very particular kind of way, I felt a sense of connection to the church universal and the church of antiquity in ways I don’t always experience.

Sometimes, our churches can’t wait to sing the newest song, obtain the newest kind of signage or buy the newest kind of church technology.

And while what is new brings energy and fresh approaches, there is a value to the past as well.

Crossing space & time

When we participate in Ash Wednesday services or in the whole of Lent, we are able to experience community with Christ-followers across the world and throughout time.

Maybe I’ll struggle with the fast I’ve chosen this year, but maybe someone else across the world will struggle with their fast, too. When I pray for my fast to be a reminder of the things I am working on in my own life, maybe I’ll pray for that fellow believer across the world, as well.

And perhaps I should also remember to pray for that first-time Lenting Baptist who has no idea what to do. May he or she find a blessing in experiencing the ties that bind Christ-followers over centuries and miles—even if those ties are made with the wrong kind of ashes.

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 board of directors.

He is your praise. He is your God, who has done for you these great and terrifying things that your eyes have seen. (Deuteronomy 10:21)

Steve BeznerI often am stunned at the things that strike me when reading the Bible. In 2008, one of my mentors challenged me to read the Bible in its entirety each calendar year. I practiced regular Bible reading at the time, but I never had read the entire book in that span of time. I now am working on my 10th consecutive year of reading the Bible from cover to cover.

New verses jump off the page each year. I am certain my caffeine intake and alertness levels are culprits. Yet I also believe the Holy Spirit is at play. The Lord seems to draw me to Scriptures that are necessary in the very moment I need them each year. I have not been able to discern any sort of pattern to these scriptural revelations, but they come with incredible timeliness.

Reading vs. slogging

Most recently, while reading Deuteronomy, I could sense my energy and alertness flagging. I once heard a preacher say Deuteronomy was Jesus’ favorite book of the Bible. He supported his claim by pointing out that, when confronted by the devil, Jesus consistently quoted Deuteronomy. His proclamation has haunted me, because I often find myself doing something other than reading Deuteronomy. I would describe my annual journey through Deuteronomy more likes logging.

It was in the midst of a low-energy slog that I read the first bit of Deuteronomy 10:21: “He is your praise.”

I was a few lines past that verse when the short sentence caused my consciousness to suddenly bolt awake. He is your praise.

I read the verse again. And then I read it again. I read it in its entirety: “He is your praise. He is your God, who has done for you these great and terrifying things that your eyes have seen.”

No need for (human) praise

The notion that the Lord himself is my praise was something I never had considered before, and, for some unknown reason, I found it shaking my spiritual core. I have openly divulged to my church and friends that the greatest temptation I face as a pastor is the desire to be loved. I want to be wanted. I want to make decisions others will laud. I want to preach sermons others will compliment. Put simply, I want praise.

And now Deuteronomy 10:21 turned that notion on its head. The Lord himself is my praise.

Why? The second sentence explains. He has done incredible things for his people. He has done these things so we might know that our need for human praise is unnecessary, for his works already have bestowed the highest of praises upon our heads.

This is the essence of the gospel. As a sinner, continually weak and wandering from the Lord, I was stuck in a morass of morality and self-help, seeking to impress others and myself. I was impossible. I was dirty. I was a poser.

God gave himself

And yet, in the midst of that difficulty, the Lord saw me, and he gave me himself. He became human. And he gave himself for me.

God deemed me worthy of Jesus—and that is the greatest praise I ever could receive.

I need no compliments on my work ethic or my sermon. I need no approval on my leadership decisions. I have been given the ultimate compliment of praise in the person of Christ.

When God did this great and terrifying thing in giving me his Son, he made it clear I am worth something—even when the internal voice of temptation might whisper something differently.

God gave Jesus, because Jesus is the highest form of praise I could ever receive.

He is my praise.

And God gave Jesus for you, as well. You do not need the approval of others. He has done this great and terrifying thing for you.

Jesus has given himself for you; he has declared you worthy.

He is your praise.

Steve Bezner is senior pastor of Houston Northwest Church.

Near the end of Deuteronomy, we find Moses nearing his death. The covenant first made at Sinai had been broken before Moses even got back down from the mountain. And now, barred from the Land of Promise by his own anger and impatience, he nevertheless gives some final words to the followers who will cross the Jordan and settle the land.

Ellen Di Giosia

“Choose life and prosperity or death and destruction.”

This feels like a real no-brainer. Life or death? Uh, I guess I’ll go with life. That’s like asking, “Would you rather have a million dollars or a knuckle sandwich?”

What is the people’s response? The text doesn’t tell us, but we know. Although prophets came and went, although tabernacle and temple hosted terrific worship services, the people didn’t choose the ways of life. They repeatedly promised to follow the life-giving path, then wandered off into the weeds and fell into a ditch.

As a reader, I find it infuriating. As a follower of God, I have sympathy.

Blessings, curses & images

Deuteronomy is full of talk about blessings and curses. Deuteronomic theology says living according to the Ten Commandments—and all their attendant regulations—results in blessing, and living in opposition to them results in curse.

This way of looking at Scripture is dangerous. Ultimately, it drives people away from faith. Because God’s honest truth is the rain falls on the just and the unjust, and there’s not a dang thing we can do about it.

But what if we look at Deuteronomic theology as a description instead of a prescription? Instead of seeing blessings and curses as things God does to us, what if we think of them as images of what we become as a result of our choices?

Living in community

The Ten Commandments aren’t simply about personal ethics. They’re about how we ought to live in community. When Moses writes about the covenant demands, he writes, “You shall also love the stranger, for you were strangers in the land of Egypt.” He writes, “You shall not see your neighbor’s donkey or ox fallen on the road and ignore it; you shall help to lift it up.” He writes: “If there is among you anyone in need, do not be hard-hearted or tight-fisted toward your needy neighbor. You should rather open your hand, willingly lending enough to meet the need, whatever it may be.”

The biblical writers say God judged Israel for its unfaithfulness. But I wonder if there’s a bit of deflection there. Because when the Israelite people chose to live in ways that contradicted the covenant to which they had pledged themselves, they weakened the fabric of their communities and of their society as a whole.

They weren’t trying to choose death outright, but in just settling for basic security and a loaf of bread for their own families and not looking out for each other, they ceased to live as a cohesive nation. They made themselves vulnerable to the workings of the large, oppressive regimes that surrounded them.

Path of destruction

We can’t choose life for just us. We have to choose life for our neighbors, as well. Any other way leads to death for us all. If we pat ourselves on the back for not bowing down to a golden calf, when all we’ve done is break it into little pieces that we can shove in our pockets and hoard, that is the path of destruction.

If we demonize an entire religion because of the actions of a few, but stay silent when white Christians perpetrate horrendous violence, that is the way of destruction.

We can discuss the economic and social and political results of immigration, and we can faithfully come to different conclusions about how we should proceed. But if we do not speak out when people can walk into homes unannounced and tear parents away from vulnerable children, that is the path of destruction. It is life for me, mine and ours—and death for everybody else.

Here’s the sneaky little secret about blessing and curse: God doesn’t need to send natural disasters or invading marauders. We’ll take care of the curse on our own, destroying ourselves from within.

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

Ananias and Sapphira provide a cautionary tale of the danger of holding back from God. We can’t claim to be Christian, to have Jesus as our Lord, and then withhold from God. If Jesus really is Lord, he gets everything, including our whole heart.

Eric BlackFor Ananias and Sapphira, money was like a wad of heartworms that stopped their hearts cold. Money so filled and choked their hearts, they would rather lie about their hearts than own up to the truth.

The lie Ananias and Sapphira told involved money, but money was just the vehicle for the lie, like a chip is a vehicle for delivering salsa. The lie Ananias and Sapphira told was about the condition of their hearts. By giving some of the money, they wanted to appear devoted to God. By holding money back, they proved their hearts were divided.

They also insinuated weakness in God. Their actions said God wouldn’t know, God wouldn’t care and God would be powerless to do anything about it anyway.

The reality is God does know, God does care, and God is perfectly able.

Was money the problem? No. God doesn’t need the money. Psalm 50 records Godsaying: “I don’t want or need your animal sacrifices. I own everything, and can get an animal any time I want. What I want is your heart.”

Ananias and Sapphira thought too little of God, and so they gave God too little of their hearts. They thought God was a small god that could be appeased and fooled withsomething so simple as a few dollars. Throw a few bills in the plate, and they could keep the rest for themselves, and none would be the wiser.

God thought otherwise. God knew otherwise. Our thoughts and hearts are not hidden from God.

Ananias and Sapphira thought it was about their money when it was really about their hearts.

The story of Zacchaeus demonstrates the joy Ananias and Sapphira might have known if they had only realized the truth.

Zacchaeus was a tax collector who amassed a fortune by extorting money from his own people. Jesus met him, invited himself over to Zacchaeus’ house for dinner, and Zacchaeus ended up giving back all the money he took from his people—times four.

In that moment, Zacchaeus gave his whole heart to God. As with Zacchaeus, every single one of us, when we encounter Jesus, have our hearts laid bare and presented with the choice of masters. Either Jesus will own us, or something else—maybe money—will.

We will know our master in that moment of encounter with Jesus. When our hearts are laid bare before him, we either will give ourselves completely to him, or we will hide ourselves and squirm away. Zacchaeus gave himself completely to Jesus, proving it with his extravagant repentance.

How extravagant was it? How much money did Zacchaeus give back? We’re not told how much money Zacchaeus gave back, because his story isn’t about his money. His story is about his heart.

Likewise, we’re not told how much money Ananias and Sapphira held back, because their story isn’t about their money. Their story is about their hearts.

What does your money say about your heart?

Mixing God and money leaves many with heavy hearts. For example, some feel guilty about what they give to God, not because they give too much, but because they think they give too little.

Some of these are giving all they can afford to give. They are like the woman Jesus praised for putting all she had into the offering plate. Her two coins were more of her heart than the piles of money given by much wealthier people.

For those who give all they can give, know this: God sees your heart and cherishes your full devotion.

Others feel guilty for what they give to God because they give so little of what they can give. For these, money is clogging their hearts like a growing wad of heartworms. They get agitated when money comes up at church. Some quit going to church altogether so they won’t be confronted with what God wants to do in their hearts. If they only knew God wants to open their hearts and free the flow of life again.

For these, know this: God knows, God cares and God is perfectly able.

If God and money are a recipe for guilt, I have a simple—though not easy—prescription: Give more of your heart to God. The money will sort itself out.

Ask yourself these questions:

• Do I give to avoid guilt?

• Do I give because someone’s manipulating me?

• Do I give to manipulate God?

• Do I give to get God off my back?

If you answer “yes” to any of those questions, ask yourself what it would be like to answer “yes” to these questions:

• Am I giving as celebration?

• Am I giving to say thanks to God?

• Am I giving as an expression of joy?

• Am I giving as faith in the possibilities of God’s future for us?

Don’t let money stop your heart. Instead, find freedom and fullness of life by giving your heart completely to God.

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

America is divided. It’s one of those statements we repeat over and over again because every conversation about our surroundings circles back to it.

Jake Raabe

More than anything else, we’re divided along political lines and ready to take down “the other”—be they cruel, heartless conservatives or ignorant, snowflake liberals. My team is good and always correct. The other team is bad and always wrong. The culture war mentality is strong: We declare a side (“left” or “right”), and we advance its cause against the godless other side at all costs.

In our current climate, it seems nothing is worse than being a member of the other “team.” A quick browse of the Facebook comments on various Baptist Standard articles demonstrates this. Most often, those who want to disparage an article don’t do so with a significant appeal to Scripture or a careful response to the issue at hand. Rather, if the article is perceived to have a leftward slant, words like “liberal” and “leftist” get thrown out as insults. If the article is perceived to slant to the right, the word “fundamentalist” gets used the same way.

Not just here, but across the Internet, Christians are faster to criticize something as being on the wrong side of the political aisle than to examine it objectively according to Scripture. It seems Christians have allowed political identity to become more important than Christian identity.

Not listening

The problem with this culture-war mentality—the idea that my group is the correct one and is fighting the other group—is that it doesn’t lend itself to listening. In war, you don’t stop to listen to the enemy. You don’t hear his or her point of view, consider it and adjust your worldview accordingly. No, in the culture war, there is only attack.

Brothers and sisters, it’s time to lay our arms down. We aren’t at war with each other, and thinking our side is always correct is arrogant.

In my last semester at college, I took a class on Baptist history. The first day of the course, it became clear the guy who sat beside me was about as right-leaning politically and theologically as they come. Recognizing him as an unthoughtful fundamentalist—after all, I used to think like that, before I really studied Scripture—I wrote him off. When he spoke, I didn’t pay much attention; after all, if he were thoughtful and intelligent, he would think the same things as I do, right?

Kind of a jerk

I was kind of a jerk to Matt, but he always was nice to me. Over the course of the semester, I learned he was a veteran, and he volunteered at the VA and did church programming aimed to help veterans suffering from PTSD. I learned he was married and had two young children. And, most importantly, I learned he was thoughtful and intelligent. Today, he’s a great friend whose thoughts I respect more than almost anyone’s.

I assumed that, because he didn’t think like me, I didn’t have to listen to him. I was wrong. I thought I was in a culture war, and he was my enemy. It wasn’t until his kindness convinced me to lay my “weapons” of argument and hostility down that I realized he was my brother in Christ.

I had a plank in my eye, and I was reaching for the speck in his.

Shamefully backwards

We’re good friends now. He’s still a self-proclaimed Calvinist fundamentalist, and I’m writing a book about my Arminianism and got my start writing because of my support for the Jill Stein presidential campaign. We’re on different sides of the political and theological “aisle,” but that’s less important than our shared conviction in the person and work of Jesus Christ.

Too often, we think of ourselves first as Republicans and Democrats who happen to be Christians as well. This is shamefully backwards. We are followers of Christ, children of the one God, who may happen to vote one way more often than the other. The kingdom of God is diverse.

It’s time to lay down our arms and start caring as much about our own personal shortcomings than about others. President Trump got elected because a huge portion of the country felt they weren’t being listened to or were being misrepresented. (My friend Sam wrote one of my favorite pieces on the Internet about this). More division won’t overcome the problems that division has caused.

Take a liberal out to lunch. Get coffee with a conservative. No one person or side has all of the answers. Lay down your arms, and keep your eyes plank-free.

That’s what our country needs right now.

Jake Raabe is a student at Baylor University’s George W. Truett Theological Seminary in Waco, Texas.

The late Jules Verne, author of 20 Thousand Leagues Under the Sea, called the sea the “Living Infinite.” Yet the vast waters that surround us don’t seem as infinite as they once did.

Garrett Vickrey

The world is shrinking. And the increasing lack of headroom is ratcheting up anxieties. These anxieties drive support for President Trump’s “America First” mentality. A new world is emerging, and it remains to be seen how Christians will respond to the challenges ahead.

When Christopher Columbus began exploring the so-called “New World,” his discoveries caused great excitement throughout Europe. Columbus sought a western path to the far east. He found the Bahamas instead.

Similarly, John Cabot believed he had arrived in Asia when he landed in Canada, claiming land there for King Henry VII. Excitement over the possibilities of this new world began to spread throughout Europe. Expeditions were launched under the auspices of diverse flags, all wanting a piece of the new pie.

A whole new world

These early expeditions opened up trade in a whole new world. Ships were launched. Goods were exchanged. Poor swine-herders like Francisco Pizarro made a fortune. The business of exploration was promising enough for Columbus to leave behind his life as a weaver. But not all Europeans experienced the blessing of this new wealth. The very foundation of wealth was changing.

The medieval era was transitioning to something new. The foundation of wealth for medieval Europe was land. Kings had it; the poor worked it. The owners of land lived quite well by renting their lands out and requiring their renters to provide them with service and a share of their crops.

Suddenly, gold and silver, which had been in short supply, began flooding from the new world back into Europe, resulting in skyrocketing inflation. The economy was changing. Is there a place in the new world for old world people?

Many in today’s emerging world can sympathize. The exploration of trade routes to the East Indies has evolved over centuries into globalized world markets, remaking economies and nations worldwide. The conversation about the ramifications of globalization need to be worked out in dialogue. Right now, few of us get beyond sound bites about what this means for “workers” or “corporations.”

Some are trying to return the world to glorious eras where we know our roles. But like 16th century Europe, we know if we ignore the new world out there, it will pass us by.

Faithful engagement

How can we as faithful Christians engage this emerging world in faithful ways? Here are three elements of Christian faith that can help us in this new world.

• First, recovery of the early Church’s understanding of Creatio Continua should underlay our image of God’s relationship to this world.

God is still creating. Creation is continually upheld and sustained by God’s Word through the Holy Spirit. God continually calls forth, dwells in and provides for creation. Whatever new world is emerging is still a world that reflects the image of the Creator.

• Second, incarnational ministry demands that the spiritual practice of empathy be given significant space within the liturgy of the church.

Life in the digital age provides too much space for empathy to dwindle. There is a great chasm formed between what we see on screens and what we feel. We protect ourselves from the emotions of others.

Christ came to dwell with us. To feel what we feel. We must do the same. We must practice empathy. We must, as the hymn encourages us, “Let our hearts be broken for a world in need.”

• Finally, we always must keep the vision of the New Jerusalem before the eyes of the world.

The failure of our imaginations keep us locked into imitations of previous failures. How can Christians in the 21st century help the world grasp images of God’s new creation?

Harmful outsourcing

Far too many churches have outsourced the work of social transformation to the political realm. Too many churches have hedged their bets that simply putting “the right kind of Christians” in powerful political roles will create a more sympathetic environment for people of faith. This cloaked identity politics needs a refresher in the much-maligned doctrine of original sin. G.K Chesterton once quipped that original sin is “the one Christian doctrine that is empirically verifiable and validated by 3,500 years of human history.”

People of faith know their frailty. Often, we fail to espouse our corporate infirmity. Yet even in our sickness, the health of God’s new creation is found. Here, there, every now and again, God’s kingdom bursts forth in beloved communities where the hungry are fed, the naked clothed and the stranger is welcomed.

Churches need not bless everything that comes with the dawn of a new era. There is a time for resistance when the dehumanization of certain people groups becomes normative through political talking points, when fear is lifted as a virtue and greed revered.

We find ourselves again in fleets of small vessels cast out upon the “Living Infinite,” crossing toward some great unknown. But like Jesus’ first disciples, we must never forget the One who is on the boat with us.

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

Take a deep breath. This is my advice to Christians.

No matter what side you are on politically, we can all agree this has been a crazy last few weeks. Executive orders and protests have dominated the news, and every publication is filled with thinkZac Harrel pieces and analysis of what is happening.

This ultimately is a good thing. As Christians, we need to be informed about what is going on, and we need to stand for truth in the public square. There needs to be wise and biblical analysis about what is going on. We must be involved.

But we should also be careful not to ignore our own spiritual lives. We must be careful that in seeking to gain the political world we don’t lose our souls in the process.

When we are consumed by political news and every breaking news story about the next order or the reaction to it, we run the risk of allowing politics to become our idol. The danger is to allow The New York Times or Fox News or talk radio—rather than God’s word and time spent in silence and prayer—to form our hearts.

Heavenly citizenship

In calling us to remember our heavenly citizenship, Russell Moore said, “We are Americans best when we are not Americans first.” The same idea should be applied to our daily intake of news and political information. We are informed best when we are not informed by the news first. Only out of the overflow of time spent in prayer and with the word of God should we come to the news of the day. Only out of a heart formed by time spent with our Father should we speak, write, tweet or comment.

God’s word reminds us all people are created in the image of God, calls us to compassion toward one another, and reminds us our hope is not in executive orders or in opposing these orders. Silence and prayer allow us to focus our hearts and minds on God and his will, to turn off the noise of the world and hear God’s voice.

Therefore, sometimes, we should step back from politics and the minute-to-minute nature of political coverage. The world will keep spinning if we miss a news cycle or if we don’t weigh in with our thoughts. Take a day off from reading the news. Spend the day in prayer and reading Scripture. Take a walk, see a movie, engage in conversation that has nothing to do with President Trump. Take a month off from social media and Internet click bait. Read a book, invest in your marriage or a new friendship, and find a place to make a tangible difference in your community.

Souls need a break

Our souls need a break from the perpetual outrage.

I am not calling for Christians to pull back completely, and I am not asking for you to be uninformed. We should watch the news. We must subscribe and support publications that are seeking to do good journalistic work. Christians should not separate from the wider culture, and we especially should be involved in politics locally, statewide and nationally as we seek the common good.

But politics must not run our lives. It must not dictate the way we think about and treat others, and it must not leave us in despair.

Take care of your soul first. Your greatest need is to know God, to be known by God. When politics gets in the way of seeking God through prayer, through Bible reading, through relationships with other people, it has become an idol. We are in grave danger of making this political moment an idol that will divide the church.

Jesus tells us, “Seek first the kingdom of God” and teaches us all of the commandments boil down to loving God and loving our neighbor. Do our current intake of news and our current conversations about politics help us love God and our neighbor well? Do they show we are pursuing the kingdom of God above all things?

Maybe we need to take a break. Maybe we need to step back. Maybe we don’t need another think piece about the Trump administration this exact moment. Maybe we need to turn off our phones, log off social media and seek the face of God first.

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

Jesus said, “Everyone on the side of truth listens to me,” to which Pilate retorted, “What is truth?”

Eric Black

Indeed, what is truth these days?

What used to be called “spin” has now become “post-truth” and “alternative facts.” Some might say the change in terminology reflects transparency, the willingness of purveyors of spin to be more honest now—although not entirely honest—about what they actually are doing. Let’s humor this idea for a moment.

Three terms

Consider my definitions:

• “Spin” puts the best face, the most positive light, on the facts at hand.

• “Post-truth” suggests the truth is no longer necessary in reporting the facts at hand.

• “Alternative facts” are ideas offered as a substitute for the facts at hand.

“Spin” is the most playful and positive of the three and requires a real craftsman—an “alternative fact” term for “liar”—such as Deputy Mayor Mike Flaherty in the sitcom Spin City. “Spin” used to be good for a laugh.

“Post-truth” is the most nihilistic of the three. “Post-truth” is a bald admission that although truth exists, we don’t care about it anymore. We are more interested in what is true for us, in what works for us, in what we want people to think or know. There is nothing funny about post-truth.

“Alternative facts,” well, that phrase is simply an oxymoron, which actually makes me laugh quite a bit. Similar to “post-truth” in acknowledging the existence of facts—facts being those objective things on which most reasonable people can and will agree—the phrase “alternative facts” and those who use it suggest reasonable people are in fact stupid and don’t know the difference between “actual” and “alternative.”

Be warned

Notice: All three are responses to the facts at hand. All three are used only when one set of facts puts the powers-that-be in a negative light. They never are used when the actual facts—notice the redundancy—bode well for the powers-that-be.

Here’s the truth: I don’t offer the preceding thought experiment merely as an experiment. I offer it as a caution.

Another caution: Don’t let the attractiveness of power, wielded by whomever, seduce you into becoming a purveyor of “spin,” “post-truth” or “alternative facts.”

Believe me, power is seductive, and the tactics of the powerful are very attractive. Lord knows, I’ve been enticed.

Jesus said, “Everyone on the side of truth listens to me.”

Lord, help me listen to you.

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

My grandparents were extraordinary people. I wish you could have known them—my maternal grandparents in particular.

James Hassell

Grandad Hanna was born and raised near Canadian, Texas, and Grandma was reared on a cotton farm outside of Gould, Okla. They were hard workers and had the scars to prove it. Grandad basically was kicked out of the house after high school graduation and wound his way to the Santa Fe Railway yard in Amarillo. There he found Grandma working at the phone company.

The rest is history. They never left Amarillo until they went to heaven and were faithful at Buchanan Street Baptist Church and then First Baptist Church.

I learned a lot about practical theology from the Hannas. I played at their house every Thursday afternoon before kindergarten interrupted the routine. Weekly visits continued, however, until I left for Hardin-Simmons University. Grandad taught me how to fish, tinker with things in the garage, keep a nice yard, play baseball, develop a love for country music, grill a mean hamburger and pull pranks. It was Grandma’s and Grandad’s course in theology that stuck the most.

Memorable theology

Here are a few of the more memorable teachings:

• Treat people fairly by taking turns.

• Don’t hit, but stand up to a bully.

• Be nice to enemies, and if they don’t want to be friends, still be nice.

• You don’t have to yell and pitch a fit to prove a point.

• Be committed to the church, and get yourself to Sunday school and worship unless you’re sick.

• Give food to the hungry by volunteering your time to do so.

• Be a good citizen by voting and committing to education.

• Give away most of your saved-up money, and take care of your family with the rest. The money is God’s anyway.

• Laugh at yourself whenever possible.

• Greet people with a smile and a handshake, never speaking of yourself.

• Enjoy the outdoors, because God created it all.

• And hard times will pass.

Religion and politics

These teachings are just the tip of the iceberg. I could go on a while, but perhaps one of the most important lessons had to do with religion and politics. Yes, we talked about these two things at their house. They weren’t bashful. In fact, I think they would be appalled and outspoken about some of the political problems in our nation today, as well as how those problems have spilled over into some of our churches.

Specifically, they would have balked at both the state trying to increase its control over people and the church attempting to co-opt the freedom of conscience for anyone in our country who is not a Christian. Religious liberty is not liberty when someone has no freedom to worship according to the dictates or his/her conscience.

Keep in mind my grandparents were some of the most patriotic people I ever met. Grandad grieved until his death that he could not go overseas in World War II because a blood disorder kept him from the armed forces. His war service, however, was to drive trains.

Defending freedom

They knew it was patriotic for them to defend the freedom of others who were different than they were. Patriotism did not include wrapping a cross in our churches up in a flag. Both biblical and historical evidence show that when we lessen the tension between church and state, every citizen loses, especially those in the minority. When the tension is pulled too tightly, we snap.

Therefore, let’s take a lesson from the Hannas in Amarillo.

Don’t hit, but stand up to the bully who wants either to keep the church out of the state or to make the state into the church. Stop all the yelling in order to prove your point. Get back into a church that wants to make disciples of the kingdom of God, not the kingdom of America. Give, vote, educate yourself and our kids, greet, laugh, enjoy our land. And remember, these hard times will pass.

James Hassell is senior pastor of First Baptist Church in San Angelo.

A couple of weeks ago, Libby Rankin handed me a plate with broken crackers as I was sitting at the end of the pew at First Baptist Church in Abilene. In a few minutes, she handed me the plate with the tiny cups of juice.

Bob EllisRev. Sarah Greenfield stood at the front of the sanctuary behind the Lord’s table. She had preached an eloquent sermon and now was serving the elements of the Lord’s Supper to the congregation. She took bread and broke it and then repeated the words of Jesus, “Take and eat.” She poured juice from a silver pitcher into a cup and spoke Jesus’ words, “This is my blood of the covenant, which is poured out for many for the forgiveness of sins.”

And we received the bread and cup to eat and drink, to remember. It was sacred. It was life-giving. It was grace.

“Why don’t we …?”

Over 20 years ago, First Baptist in Abilene began ordaining women as deacons. Our church’s tradition before that time was to pass around a list of all the men in the church when it came time to nominate deacons. One year as the process was about to begin, a male deacon asked the innocent question, “Why don’t we have the names of church members who are women on the list, too?”

The question led to a careful process of studying Scripture and discerning God’s leadership. There are many examples of women in spiritual leadership positions in the Bible, including a direct reference to the deaconess Phoebe (Romans 16:1).

After careful consideration, our church determined opening the deacon body to women was an important step for us to take in following Christ. Since then, many capable women have served as deacons, and they continue to do so. In fact, someone called to my attention one year that laywomen were serving as the chair of the deacons and chairs of each major committee in the church. Without any sort of gender-based “affirmative action,” that particular year, our church simply found women were the best choices for leadership in each of those positions.

Barriers come down

We are learning that in Christ, the barriers come down.

Sarah Greenfield, who recently served the Lord’s Supper to us, was ordained by our church in 2014. A graduate of Logsdon Seminary, she now leads our congregation as the pastor for emerging adults. Through the years, First Baptist has ordained a number of other women for ministry, including Venantie Uwishyaka, whom we ordained earlier this year. She is a Rwandan who earned a degree in family ministry at Logsdon Seminary and now has returned to her country to begin a center for Christian counseling and ministry to women and families.

To be sure, Texas Baptist churches are at different points in the journey of women’s leadership in the church. We are familiar with the way in which the Apostle Paul gave instructions to early churches about how to behave within their contexts in order to further the gospel most effectively. At one point, he called for women to be silent in church (1 Corinthians 14:11-12), and at another, he talked about how women who publicly pray and prophesy in church should do so with heads covered, as was the custom of the day (1 Corinthians 11:5). One assumes the ancient context sometimes limited and sometimes permitted women in public church ministry.

A better way …

We remember the profound words of gender-equality in Genesis, declaring God has created both women and men in the image of God (Genesis 1:27). There is the tragic story of human sinfulness in Genesis 3, which led to the divine prediction that husbands will rule over wives in the future (3:16). My view is that the passage is describing, rather than prescribing, what lies ahead for the sinful couple. But whatever one’s interpretation of the statement, the passage clearly indicates male dominance of women is a result of human sinfulness. The good news is Jesus has come to show us a better way: He breaks down barriers; he sets us free. Paul summarizes the gospel lesson so profoundly: “For in Christ Jesus … there is no longer male and female, for you are one in Christ Jesus” (Galatians 3:26-28).

Perhaps we also remember how the book of Joel speaks of God’s dream for God’s people: “I will pour out my Spirit on all flesh, your sons and your daughters shall prophesy” (2:28). Texas Baptist churches are becoming increasingly open to ways in which the Spirit is breaking down barriers and leading women with new freedom to minister within congregations and the world.

I encourage you to participate in the 2017 Women in Ministry Conference sponsored by Texas Baptist Women in Ministry and Logsdon Seminary. The conference will be at Logsdon’s campus in Abilene Feb. 10-11. The event is designed to encourage all ministers, men and women, and especially to provide an affirming context for thinking about how women who are called by God can serve our churches effectively. To register for the conference, click here.

Bob Ellis is a member of First Baptist Church in Abilene and associate dean for academics at Logsdon Seminary.

I was preaching through Ephesians 5 a few weeks ago and came to verses 15 and 16: “Look carefully then how you walk, not as unwise but as wise, making the best use of the time, because the days are evil.” Godly wisdom directs us to watch our lives carefully and make the best use of our time. What does this mean?

Zac Harrel

One answer to this question is found in Psalm 90:12: “So teach us to number our days that we may get a heart of wisdom.”

To make the best use of our time, we should realize how short our time truly is. To live carefully, we should number our days. Godly wisdom is marked by knowing our own frailty and seeing each day as a gift from the hand of God, a gift of his grace.

Shocking reality

Everything around us in our consumer culture fights against this wisdom. We have come to expect to live long, to live without suffering or sickness, to live with no thought toward death or dying. So, when suffering comes or when our frailty is made abundantly clear, we are shocked. We feel cheated. We blame God.

As American Christians, we live in such an affluent time with so many amazing technological advances, we can live without a second thought about our frailty most days, most years. But life has a way of reminding us of our finiteness.

This truth always seems to be front and center in pastoral ministry. There are hospital visits to make and funeral services to perform. I can’t escape the fact of human frailty. It is always right there. There are the phone calls in the middle of the night, the desperate visitor into the office asking for prayer, the congregant who has struggled for years with cancer breathing the last breath, the freak accident and everything else marred by this broken world.

Hard truth

When the Apostle Paul tells us the days are evil, this is what he means. We can’t escape the hard truth of the evil of this age, but we can live with wisdom.

We can number our days, living in the reality we are just a vapor. A heart of wisdom knows this truth, lives in this truth. Foolishness is living as if we are invincible, as if our days aren’t numbered. Foolishness is being surprised at the suffering of these evil days.

Godly wisdom teaches us to number our days and to make the best use of the short days we have been given by living with thanksgiving. God’s grace is all around us. God’s beauty is all around us. In the midst of our fleeting days, we can see God’s grace and beauty everywhere, and we can be thankful always and for everything as Paul says in Ephesians 5:20: “… always giving thanks to God the Father for everything, in the name of our Lord Jesus Christ.”

Godly wisdom

Godly wisdom tells us our days are numbered and instructs us to be thankful for each moment God gives. Be thankful for this day. Be thankful for this season, even if you are walking through the valley of the shadow of death. Be thankful for the grace and beauty of God that makes these evil days bearable.

God’s grace is everywhere. It is there in the middle of the night in your tossing and turning. It is there in the doctor’s office when the tests come back with bad news. It is there when you are on your knees praying for God to bring your son or daughter back to him. God’s grace is there every single day.

God’s beauty is everywhere, too. It is in creation all around us, from the flowers that bloom to the heavens filled with stars. It is in the eyes of my 3-year-old, who sees the beauty of this life in fresh ways, reminding me of God and his presence. It is in the faithful love of a spouse and friends, as well as in the fellowship of your church. God’s beauty is there if we have eyes to see.

This life is short. Wisdom is accepting this frailty and living with eyes wide open to the grace and beauty of God filling each moment of these numbered days.

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

Texas political rhetoric often calls for reclaiming and preserving the American founders’ original intentions for our nation. This rock-ribbed conservatism is at the core of our spirit as Texans.

Charles Foster JohnsonYet, perplexingly, some Texas politicians today continue to attack one of the most successful bedrocks of American culture, democracy and our economy—our public education system.

In 1785, John Adams said: “The whole people must take upon themselves the education of the whole people and be willing to bear the expenses of it. There should not be a district of one mile square without a school in it, not founded by a charitable individual, but maintained at the public expense of the people themselves.”

Clearly, this founding father of our Republic saw public education as central to our social contract and fundamental to the provision of the common good.

Constitutional mandate

Accordingly, the Texas State Constitution ensures public education for all children in Article 7, Section 1: “A general diffusion of knowledge being essential to the preservation of the liberties and rights of the people, it shall be the duty of the Legislature of the State to establish and make suitable provision for the support and maintenance of an efficient system of public free schools.”

True conservatives rally around our neighborhood and community public schools as the primary vehicles for perpetuating civil society, strengthening our economy and ensuring our continued leadership in the world. This is why our Texas pastors overwhelmingly support them.

Public education advances conservative values through early investments to give every student a fair shot and the tools needed to pursue a more prosperous, self-sufficient future. These investments reap significant long-term economic dividends and savings because they produce fewer societal problems, benefiting all Texans.

Furthermore, public schools are filled with many people of faith. These teachers, principals and school staff bow their heads in our houses of worship with us, serve and fellowship alongside us, and model their faith in schools and classrooms. Indeed, public school educators fill our congregations.

Absolute and total obligation

As a state, we have an absolute and total obligation to our children. Not just the few. Not just the privileged. Not just our own. All Texas children. This is the only way “the Texas miracle” can live on.

Ninety percent of Texas children are educated in public schools. The lion’s share of our focus should return to strengthening the only institution equipped to embrace and educate every child.

Voucher and privatization programs that divert public dollars to private entities without accountability, however much they are cloaked in the deceptive language of “school choice,” are not the answer to our educational challenges. Texans clearly do not want to see their tax dollars underwriting the private education of affluent people.

Care for the most vulnerable

More than 60 percent of Texas schoolchildren are identified as economically disadvantaged. Public schools cannot be expected to overcome the challenges created by rising poverty, especially when they are educating more students with less money. The last thing these neighborhoods need is to be stripped of their remaining vitality.

Texas ranks near the bottom in per-pupil spending nationwide. In 2011, devastating funding cuts forced school districts to lay off teachers, increase class sizes and reduce pre-kindergarten programs. In 2013, Texas legislators restored only a portion of the cuts—about 60 percent—leaving a gaping deficit in education funding. In 2015, schools also had to accommodate for student growth, totaling 300,000 more students than in 2011. 

Now it is 2017, and here we go again with the misguided and cynical attempt to privatize this foundational public trust. 

Time for rededication

Let us rededicate ourselves to our Texas children in our public education system. Rather than again debating controversial, unproven policies that further impair our public schools, let us reclaim our collective will to pursue proposals that give our schools the support they need to prepare our children adequately for the economy they will inherit and create.

People of faith all over Texas are rallying to this call. Our close friends in the Baptist General Convention of Texas and the Christian Life Commission are at the lead in this movement.

Jesus said, “Let the little children come to me, and do not hinder them, for the kingdom of heaven belongs to such as these.” Our neighborhood and community schools obey this command each and every day.

Charles Foster Johnson is pastor of Bread Fellowship in Fort Worth and executive director of Pastors for Texas Children.